Sunday, May 10, 2009

Happy Mother's Day!

Number One Son told me he had planned to buy me a dogwood tree and plant it in my yard for Mother's Day. I thought it was a lovely idea but he said he'd been shot down by his dad.

"Why?" I wanted to know.

"Because Dad says our yard isn't big enough for another tree."

Number One and I surveyed the landscape and had a good chuckle over the lack of room for a tree. What with the wood splitter, the tractor, non-working hot tub, dirt bikes, in-need-of-repair jet ski and ski boat, cars waiting to be fixed up and resold . . . yeah--no room for a beautiful tree.

"I wanted to plant it in the front yard by the gate," he said.

"I think that's a lovely idea."

"Okay," he agreed, "I'll plant it and you and Dad can duke it out from there."

"So," I summed up, "what you're giving me for Mother's Day is a divorce?"

What a sweet, sweet boy : )

Tuesday, May 5, 2009

Icky x Gross = Disgusting

I've mentioned my friend, Bob, from the produce department before. In addition to his fine work with fruits and veggies, twenty-five year old Bob is going to school right now to become a nurse.

Passing through his department the other day, I stopped to ask him how school was going. He mentioned that they were preparing for their clinicals in which they would practice on their classmates.

"Oh," I asked--which was truly the beginning of my problems, "do you mean taking blood pressure and pulse and things like that?"

"Actually no, we're going to be doing things like sponge bathing and clipping nails."

It was then that I gagged and he had the most impish grin on his face.

This, naturally, segued into a discussion of Things Which Skeeve Me Out.

Things like the hot tub at the gym Bob and I both belong to. The hot tub in which I have seen enough hair to braid a friendship bracelet and upon whose foam I have seen a scum of body oil and dirt such that I will not go near that place ever again. But the real capper was when I saw a large toenail piece lying by the side of the hot tub.

Laughing at my squeamishness, Bob promised to fill me in on all the gritty details of his clinicals.

Seriously, Bob, thanks. A lot.

After a conversation like that, it is but a certainty that more nastiness would follow. Am I right? I was just asking for it.

Later that evening at The Gym Which Is Expensive Enough That It Ought To Be Pristine, I went to the pool for laps. The pool is tiny. Approximately 8' x 10'. Two other people were already in the pool, but they were in separate corners of the shallow end doing exercises, leaving me the middle "lane."

Careful not to swim into their spaces, I was using a little white thing at the edge of the pool as my spotting and turnaround point. Up close, it turned out that the little white thing was a band aid.

I thought maybe instead of trying to do laps without getting in the other folks' way and avoiding the lifeless (one hopes) band aid, I could do laps crosswise in the deep end. I started on one side and when I reached the opposite side for the turnaround, guess what was sitting at the edge of the pool? Anyone? Yes, another band aid!

And a few feet away--what's that? Oh tell me that isn't a cond . . . Nah--I'm pretty sure it's just a latex glove. But why? Why is there an abandoned latex glove at the edge of the pool? Some questions are better left unanswered.

I spent the rest of my 20 minutes not counting laps, but counting every single amoeba in the pool. Yes. I was that freaked out.


That was last night and I still feel like I need to shower. Again.

Friday, May 1, 2009

Does this dog make me look fat?

Three months until my lovely daughter's wedding and I'm dreading how I'll look in the photos. I am not photogenic. At all. I'm an attractive enough woman in person (well . . . attractive for my age . . . ) but I do not translate well to 2D.

Also? I weigh 20 (or 150--but who's counting?) more pounds than I'd like to and what with me being short anyway and photographs making people look even heavier . . . It doesn't bode well.

I'm thinking of getting that Valerie-Bertinelli-in-the-bikini People Magazine cover made into a life-sized cardboard cut-out from the neck down and standing behind it because really she and I are built about the same with similar coloring and face shape. As long as I'm going that far, I might as well just leave her head on the cardboard cut-out and stand it next to the wedding party. That's subtle, right?

But I've gotten off track.

So. I am perpetually trying to get rid of these 20 (or 150--but who's counting?) pounds and now I'm totally ramping it up because I only have three months!!!!

I've been working out a lot and eating really well and have shed a few pounds. And I feel great! Well, I did feel great until that thing with the dog happened . . .

My daughter has a dog. I hate that dog. He's really not a bad guy--just a big puppy who doesn't know his strength. Somehow he managed to poop on my daughter's pant leg the other day just before she got into her car to come to my house. (Yeah--on her pant leg. How does that happen?)

When she got to my house I loaned her a pair of my smallest denim Capris thinking they might be a bit loose on her but they'd be fine.

They weren't fine.

I saw my daughter swimming in my cute little Capris. My little Capris! The waist didn't fit at all, there were huge gaps where her butt didn't fill them out and they were all loose on the legs.


I know what my daughter weighs. And I know exactly how much I have to lose before I can look as good as the girl who just had a baby! And now after all my hard work and determination, I am completely let down.

It's the dog's fault.

I hate that #$%& dog.