Suburban Bliss:: Birth Control Via The Written Word

Two Quick Things.

If you need to buy a gift for a one year old any time soon, here you go.

Lots of great ideas at Mighty Junior. (Click on the image to go there.)

Or you can read about chapter books to read with your kid at the Buzz Off.

Today is supposed to be the only beautiful day here this week. So I'm going to spend it writing, picking up the, now fixed, parts of our trampoline (Logan's act of JackAssery), getting my passenger door fixed on my van (my act of Jackassery continues to flare up) and trying to convince AT&T that they shouldn't fix my Blackberry but should instead just cough up an iPhone.

I think they're going to go for it.

Feeling a lot older than I am.

We're hanging out, describing our visit to the 80's Night at a local club to a friend who wasn't there.

"There were all these creepy guys on the dance floor. They'd come up and rub up against you until you gave them a look."

"Yeah, and even worse the guys who lined up around the dance floor staring at everyone."

"Right! And as the night went on the girls were wearing barely any clothes. It was, ugh. Weird."

Pause.

"So wait, what you're saying is that you were at a club, where people dance and try to hook up with people?"

"Right.....and then? All these women were dancing suggestively and it's like everyone was there just to meet someone to have sex with. Or something. My God. What kind of place is that!?"

"Yeah, that's what the kids call a 'Club'."

"....Well, yes.....I sound a thousand years old don't I?"

"Pretty much."

Portland Mighty Finds

First, let me set your mind at ease. Gary the cat came back. Of course the neighbors didn't try to eat him, but don't think that means they won't at some point.

Back in February, I went to Portland with Maggie and then all the ladies came at the end and it was very fun. The only problem is we bought all this stuff and then I left it in Maggie's apartment for her to deal with. Which was understandable, I only had two bags to get home with, but still not very fun for them.

We bought a lot of stuff.

We also learned that Portland likes a)pottery and b)green things

I finally got around to listing all our fabulous finds over at our Etsy shop. You should go, take a look and see if you can't find something wonderful for your house.

I bet you can.

Here's a slide show, it makes me miss the Ace Hotel room where we took all the pictures after shopping for hours.

I think the Bad Neighbor is serving my cat for dinner.

Life is awfully slow in the interesting ways around here.

Here's a quick story. There's one neighbor here that nearly everyone hates. Which is refreshing because in our old neighborhood I was the one neighbor everyone hated. When I try to explain why everyone has feelings for this person that range from "FUCK YOU, YOU HORRIBLE WOMAN!!!!"*** on to "Enh, I wish she'd move."

Every time I try to explain this, I fall into a blood pressure raising discussion that spans over 10 years of stories and interactions with this person. She is....awful is too nice a term to use when referring to her. I mean Liver and Onions is, in my opinion, awful. She's more like Head Cheese. Head Cheese is repugnant. It defies explanation. It's something you wish you didn't know existed.

***Clearly I fall into this category.

We've started letting Gary The Cat outside in the new house since we've lived here for nine months now. Not sure why that makes a difference but in my mind he's more committed. Tonight, we let him out and I haven't seen him since. Usually he hangs out by the door and runs inside the minute I open it. Also, coincidentally (or not) I noticed the husband of the neighbor I like to think of as Head Cheese out rolling around a heavy wheelbarrow.

Now if Gary comes back tonight I'll probably think this was a stupid thing to think. But I think Husband of Head Cheese had Gary, knocked unconscious,  in his wheelbarrow and they're currently burying him in their trash cans for the Friday pick up.

I'll keep you posted.

In less bad energy inducing news, I wrote about Mother's Day Giveaways at The Buzz Off. You could win stuff and telling you about it lessens my chances of winning so maybe I just earned back my karma.

Probably not.

Also Maggie closed out the Mother's Day Gift guide at Mighty Goods and Mighty Junior. We combined our efforts (meaning I contributed three gifts to the guide and Maggie did the other stuff). Considering that my siblings and I are buying my mother a privacy fence for her back yard (as a Mother's Day + 60th birthday gift) this makes a lot of sense. For Christmas we bought her a new stove.

We're very thoughtful as a family. Actually the members of our family who do not share DNA with us are thoughtful. Actually, everyone in our family who is not me is very thoughtful. I did give you that Giveaway link and that gives you access to my new favorite source for dresses. So I am thoughtful....in a way. Too bad my brother can't exactly use that link.

I love the 80's.

This is what I did this weekend. My friends went to prom and I tagged along.

It was my friend's 35th birthday celebration and in spite of myself, and my week long round of whining about having to find something to wear which would remind me of probably the most painful and miserable decade of my life, I had a really good time.

I didn't look like this in the 80's though. In fact, I never actually went to prom. I looked more like this.

I hated it even then, note how I'm flipping off the camera. Still, if I thought I hated the 80's, check out my sister's look. Holy Shit.

In other news Pam from Union Station contacted me and I put her in touch with the people I needed to. Thank you for your emails!

Help!

Remember that time I went to New York City and chased my husband through the streets while he ran a marathon? Remember how I sat in a bar for two hours waiting for my husband to show up after the race, pondering how I was going to tell my children their father went to New York City to run a marathon and apparently just kept on running away from us.

That was a really fun time. Remember that?

I bring it up, not for the usual reason (I enjoy beating the shit out of dead horses). I bring it up because that night after the marathon we had plans to go to Union Hall in Brooklyn for drinks after the race because the very nice lady who owns it, invited us to come? (But then we couldn't because we ended up in The Meadowlands watching a Lifetime movie....good times. Good times.)

I'm bringing this up because I have lost the email address (and the name) of that nice person and I'm wondering if she still reads this website and can shoot me an email. I need to get her in touch with a friend.

It's all about the odds.

Lost, driving through Rutgers campus a few weeks ago before I fell deathly ill and tried to die in Alice's guest bedroom.

Susan: "Weren't a group of students from Rutgers on the Lockerbie plane?"

Me: "I'm dying."

Chris: "Hmm...I don't know. Actually I went to Africa in college and one of the girls on the plane had a sister who died on that flight. Her parents were terrified for her."

Susan: "Oh God, that would be so scary."

Me: "I'm dying."

Chris: "Sure, but I was really soothed by it, I wanted to sit right next to her. Because really what are the chances one family would lose two daughters in international plane wrecks? There was no way our plane was going down with her on board."

Susan: "It's true. I mean kind of sad, but true. Their loss, your gain."

Me: "I'm dying."

If only you could pick your family.

We went to a funeral for a friend's grandfather this morning.

Logan gets antsy about funerals. Barring a tragic death of any sort, I generally like funerals. I love hearing stories about older people who have passed away. I love seeing the pictures of them growing up. I love seeing how their lives have touched so many people. To me, though it's sad to say good bye to those we love, a funeral is an oddly satisfying way to celebrate a life.

My friend's mother stood up to speak about her father and said something that really touched Logan and I.

"I feel fortunate to have had him as my dad."

And with that my tears started (the other reason I like funerals: excuse to cry.)

I know a lot of people who would say the same thing about their own fathers. Unfortunately, I know a lot of people who can't.