Not in Bed Yet

"Other customers who bought this item also bought this, this, and that."

It's the Amazon Swirling Vortex of Death. How in the world can I not look at EVERY OTHER ITEM EVERY OTHER CUSTOMER JUST LIKE ME PURCHASED?!

God help me.

Obsession

Online Christmas shopping. Is it convenience? Or the work of the devil? Because I'm sitting in my chair at 12:30 AM, my eyes are about to fall out of my head, the dogs are farting and snoring at my feet, I have the faint beginnings of an explosive headache, I have to get up for work at 5:00 AM, and yet...

I CAN'T STOP.

And the saddest part? I haven't even whipped out the plastic yet. I'm simply creating the lists. I know. I have a problem.

I'm forcing myself to go to bed. NOW.

Peppermint Peril

Andi called me yesterday from the CVS parking lot in a bit of a quandry. Truman has the Final Ear Infection Before Tubes and she was waiting for his antibiotic. We talked a bit about ENTs because Mary Claire has gone through the whole 2 sets of tubes, tonsillectomy, and adenoidectomy rigamarole. I recommended Dr. Ball to her, who incidentally, is the identical twin sister of my OB/GYN, Dr. Ball. No kidding. They look exactly alike. They talk exactly alike. Their mannerisms are exactly the same. When I took Mary Claire to her pre-op appointment, I looked for the stirrups for my feet. That's how much alike they are. But I digress...

Anyway, Truman is screaming inconsolably because his eardrums feel like they're being poked with a sharp, fiery cattle prod, but Andi and I have a much more urgent concern.

All the local Starbucks have run out of peppermint syrup.

What?! It's not even December, and there's no peppermint syrup?

How in the hell am I supposed to add to my waistline while soothing my need for caffeine with a steaming hot Peppermint Mocha when THERE'S NO PEPPERMINT SYRUP IN MY DISTRICT?!?! Hey, Starbucks!! This happened last year! Remember? I'm no java expert, but it seems to me like there's a run on peppermint during the holiday season. Could we stock up? I mean, really--it shouldn't be as hard to find a Peppermint Mocha as it is to find a Wii! Isn't there enough stress during the holidays without having to settle for a white chocolate mocha? It's. just. not. the. same.

The day after Thanksgiving, we had a brand new Starbucks open in town. Andi decided to try her luck there today. The conversation went something like this:

Andi: Dude, I've been told there are no bottles of peppermint syrup in the district. Is it true?

Barista from Fancy Brand Spanking New Starbucks: It is true. But because we're new, I have a secret stash. All the local managers have been trying to get me to give it up, but I'm hoarding it.

Andi: No way!

Barista from Fancy Brand Spanking New Starbucks: Yes, way! I had a district manager actually take three bottles from me to divvy up, but I'm not letting any more of them go.

Andi: It's like Peppermint Prohibition.

Peppermint Prohibition. And thus begins the Christmas Journey 2007.

Thankful For...

1. My beautiful kiddos even when they're screaming at each other on Thanksgiving
2. My renaissance man who's done all the cooking and Thanksgiving day prep
3. Two dumb, lovable dogs--even the one who keeps peeing all over the carpet
4. A good, strong dose of Vicodin for my old-woman back
5. Cabernet sauvignon (not necessarily mixed with Vicodin)
6. My best buds (you know who you are)
7. Homemade crescent rolls
8. Direct deposit
9. Pam's pumpkin bread
10. Good jobs, good health, good lives

HAPPY THANKSGIVING!

A New Entry for Webster

Chris and I agree wholeheartedly that sometimes there's just no substitute for the word "fuck". When you're really angry, nothing quite compares. When you're hackles are up, nothing says it more eloquently. Now, don't get me wrong. We NEVER say it in front of my mom. Sis does not abide. There are two words in this world that she cannot tolerate: fuck and piss. Piss, I can live without. In fact, I find it rather crude. But, fuck...well, that's another story.

I haven't always been a potty mouth, but I discover that the older I get, the less refined my speech becomes. I'm not sure why, but I definitely fill in the gaps with profanity more often than not. Charming, I know.

The great thing about the word "fuck" is that it can be used in such a variety of ways. As a verb, as a noun, as an adjective... (Look it up--"fucky" is in the dictionary. Next to the word, you'll see a picture of Mary Claire when she's told she can't play Webkinz. The picture label will read "fucky girly girl who doesn't get her way".) The one disappointing thing about the word is that there's no adverb form. So Chris and I decided to pioneer one. Next time you see him, tell him he's looking rather fuckly. He'll be glad you did.

Do I Really Seem That Old?

Mary Claire asked me today if there were grocery stores when I was a little girl or if I had to hunt for my food.

Hamster Alert

Jack is MIA. Someone left his cage open and he's been gone for over a week now. I think we're on a Search and Recovery mission versus a Search and Rescue. Mary Claire asked me this morning if we could put some water out for him, and I gently explained that Jack probably wasn't alive anymore. She bawled hysterically and was inconsolable. What the hell kind of mother am I?! Couldn't I have just put the damn water bottle out?!

R.O.C.K. in the U.S.A.

Sam turned 11 yesterday. Here's how our conversation went:

Me: Aren't you excited about being double-digits?!
Sam: I was double digits last year.
Me (in a lame attempt to think on my feet): Yes, but now you're double-same digits.
Sam (walking away, shaking his head): Mom, sometimes I worry about you.

Me too, Sam. Me, too.

We took Sam to see his rock idol, John Mellencamp, at Conseco fieldhouse Saturday night. I actually joined the Cherry Bomb Club to get presale tickets. With my official Cherry Bomb Club membership, I was also eligible to enter a contest to win band "Meet and Greet" passes. Believe it or not, I won! So, Sam and I were sitting in the stands waiting for the Meet and Greet to start while Chris and Amber sipped lattes in the nearest Starbucks and waited for us. These rocker gals walked up to us and offered us backstage passes (apparently because Sam was so cute and I said it was his birthday). Before I continue this story, did I mention that I am madly in love with John Mellencamp? He's on My List. You know, the same list John Mayer and Dave Mattews are on. The List of men I would leave my beloved husband for if they came knocking. It could happen. But I digress...

So, we sprinted to the backstage party room (well, I did the sprinting and Sam was merely dragged along behind me). When they let us in, we were surrounded by very darkly tanned men with very diamond-clad necklaces and women who had bigger collagen-enhanced lips than my ass. Seriously. We sat down and tried to act cool. Before I knew it, Elaine Irwin Mellencamp had sidled over beside me. Okay, so she doesn't actually sidle. She glides on air. She is the most beautiful, graceful, stunning, head-turning human being I've ever laid eyes on. And her ass is as big as my big toe. No, it's as big as my middle toe--no bigger. I pointed her out to Sam (discreetly, of course) and told him to drink her in. Assured him that he'd never again have this opportunity. Then we saw John. He stood outside the party room door and I was afraid to breathe because I didn't want to scare him away. Long story short, he never came in. But he came close. Within 20 feet. And if I'd had a few drinks, I might have thrown myself at him. But instead, I just stared. At him. And at his wife.

Did I mention that she's on My List now, too?