The Here and Now

Did you ever have one of those days...?

Where you'd rather be somewhere else, with someone else, doing something else?

I felt like that all day yesterday, with the result that to keep my mind off of it, I worked from 8-4, then came home and scurried around until 1am. I took down my Christmas tree, unpacked the 12 boxes of books sitting in the corner of the dining room (finding a boat-load of socks, underwear and bras that the packers used for filler in the boxes), moved and filled a bookcase, redecorated the empty spaces my absent Christmas decorations left, cleaned up the kitchen, reorganized my sock, underwear and bra drawers (see above), and drank 2 glasses of wine.

Finally, at 1:17am, the 29th was over and I could go to bed. I think I fell asleep immediately, but slept restlessly and woke up with the same brooding thoughts that haunted me in my sleep. There is still much to do, and Dillon comes home today (Mac not until the 2nd), so I need to get moving. I'm hoping that the constant activity will help keep my mind off of what I'm missing and on the here and now.

Oh, Edna Mae...

My mom is a hairdresser.

She has some Crazy clients.

Enter into evidence "Edna Mae":

Edna Mae returns her corn to the the store when the end of it is chewed on by bugs. The rest of us just cut that part off.

Edna Mae has returned bananas to the store because they turned brown.

Edna Mae has returned meat because she decided she didn't need all of the meat she purchased. You return sweaters when you buy too many - you don't return meat.

But today! Today my mom had a story that tops all the rest:

This morning, Edna Mae came into Mom's shop and told Mom about how, on the way there, two deer ran out in front of her car and she almost hit them. And she couldn't get her hair done yet because she had to call 9-1-1.

Mom said, "911?"

Edna Mae said, "Yes! Someone needs to know about those two deer! The could have caused me to wreck my car! Someone needs to do something!"

Mom tried to discourage her from calling 911. Mostly because Mom didn't need the aggravation of the Fire Department pulling up in front of her place of business with their Ginormous Red Fire Engine in response to Edna Mae's call.

But Edna Mae wouldn't listen. She called 911.

And she told them about how she was driving in her car and two deer ran out in front of her and how it was a dangerous situation and how someone needs to do something because someone could be killed.

And I asked Mom, "What did she want them to do? Send two cops out to talk to the deer? Did she want them to cuff them and haul them downtown? Did she think they would execute a man(deer)hunt? WHAT, EXACTLY DID SHE THINK THEY COULD DO ABOUT IT???"

Mom was speechless.

The dispatcher told Edna Mae that she had the wrong number.

And Edna Mae gave it up.

But now I feel so insecure that there are two rogue deer in town willy-nilly running in front of cars, recklessly trying to forage for food and risking my life for their own self-preservation!

I should call someone.

"The Time Has Come, the Walrus Said..."

I didn't want to write because I didn't want to sound sad.

And I'm not sad, per se. (How do you spell per se?) I'm just a little weirded-out.

One year ago today I asked my husband of 15 years for a divorce.

Today, the kids left for their first visit with their dad since the divorce.

And I did not cry. (Mostly, anyway.)

I did:

• balance my checkbook
• pay bills
• put plastic on 2 of the 8 windows in my living room (sexy)
• corral dustbunnies
• gather up Christmas paraphernalia
• organize my office supplies
• make Mackenzie's bed
• eat all the peanut clusters and chocolate-dipped pretzels
• take a bubble bath
• go to bed early (but not fall asleep)
  
• read (The Virgin's Lover)
• catch another cold
  

I didn't know what else to do - I just knew I needed to keep moving. Mom called me and asked if I wanted to come over for dinner. But I ate leftover Gumbo at 3:00 so I wasn't hungry for dinner and I feel like crap, so I went to bed instead.

Tomorrow will be better.

Happy Holidays!

From Paige, Dillon, Mackenzie and Taiko...

So I've Been a Little Preoccupied

First, I bought this:



Then, I cut this:



Now I'm doing my damnedest to survive this:



All while working 6 days a week.

I'm open for suggestions.

But scratch the wine. I've already tried it and it doesn't really help.

Schooled By A Toddler

So. I'm driving through Americus, IN.

There is a truck trying to make a left-hand turn into The Restaurant in Americus. I could pass on the shoulder on the right, except for the chicken...


...pecking at the side of the road.

A few hours later, I had a two-year-old girl-baby in my car that I was transporting to a visitation. We were chatting away, when I said, "Look, K*****! A green tractor!" (It was a John Deere out in a half-harvested corn-field.)

"Yes, a green Tractor!"

A half-a-mile down the road, I saw a red one:

"Look, K*****! A RED tractor!"

"That's not a tractor. That's a combine."

And she was right.

The Low-Down

Seriously. Can we talk about how you working people do it? How do you work and cook and read and hang out with your kids and go to dive meets and clean the bathroom and do laundry? I haven't read a book since I started working. I haven't knit a scarf and here it is Winter (or at least Fall, and getting damn chilly). I should be balancing my checkbook right now. I have no idea how much money is in there, but I am certain it isn't much. I've been working 5-6 days a week, and usually house-hunting on one of my days off. But I can't make a damn decision so I'm still just hunting and driving my realtor batty. I thought I forgot to pay my my Verizon Wireless bill, so I paid it twice. Now I'm ahead. By $130. Someone hit Dillon's car in the parking lot of his school, while he was in class, and his car's been in the shop all week. Two-thousand dollars damage (rear bumper, tail-light, and fender). The police can't do anything about it with no witnesses.

Seriously. The kid has the Worst Luck.

I have to do two visitations and a transport tomorrow, to the tune of 13 hours and 230 miles. I've put almost 2,500 miles on Lucy in 6 weeks, and am almost due for another oil change. The kids both need teeth cleanings, but I haven't gotten around to checking my calendar and making the appointments. It's on my short list - to do this week (assuming I remember).

I keep thinking of great subjects to blog - funny things I saw, things that made me laugh.... But by the time I get home, I can't remember them. At. All. By the time I get home, my mind is blank. Maybe I'll get one of those Little Tiny Voice Recorders. Like on late night AsSeenOnTV commercials. Haven't you seen them? Because I can't write notes while driving on a two-lane country road. I've tried.

I'm still just hanging on by a thread, but my issues are less Emotional Hullaballoo and more just Regular Old Busy at the moment. I'm spread thin, but feel stronger than I have in years. I'm tired as Hell, but happier than I can remember being. I have a deadline in my head for a move-out date, whether it's into my Own Home or into a Rental. I haven't exactly concluded where yet, though I'm getting closer to a decision.

So it's all good.

A little crazy, but good.

So You Can Breathe Again...

I picked Fergie's "Big Girls Don't Cry."

It's A Puzzler

I can't decide if my new ringtone should be
"Big Girls Don't Cry", Fergie
or
"Save A Horse (Ride a Cowboy)".

John Deere Traffic Jam

Remember how I said it was Harvesting Season around here? (Don't let my sniffing and coughing bother you...)

Can you believe that the past two weeks I've been driving my circles around Indiana, frequently stuck on a two-lane highway, behind this Combine, or that Sprayer, sometimes even a Tiller, making it nearly impossible for me to pass, while miles and miles passed slowly by outside my window. And during each day of said past two weeks I have been without my camera at the most opportune minutes.

So I concentrated and concentrated, and today I remembered to grab my camera on the way out the door. But do you think I saw a single John Deere on the road? No. There were plenty in the fields, but what's special about a green tractor in a field? And as I drove along today, I recalled that last week my drive was in a corridor of brown corn stalks. By contrast, this week, the crops are gone and Indiana plains have returned. The farmers have been busy harvesting their fields since I last drove today's route. I may have to wait for next year to get you a photo of a Combine on the highway.

Makes Me Laugh

Only In Indiana

I guess we're assimilating to Indiana. Mackenzie asked me yesterday, after we upgraded our cell phones, "Mom, can I download the Nascar game to my phone?"

And yesterday, I only bitched for 10 minutes after getting stopped by the second train in less than 5 hours. One of which also made Mackenzie late for school after we sat there for 12 (twelve!) minutes as the train went back and forth and started and stopped until I almost lost my mind. That NEVER happened in San Diego or Washington, DC.

Also, I'm less than impressed with the pollen and sundry crap floating around in the air here. Everyone's allergies have been worse the past week or so. Why, you ask? (For it is not blooming season....) Well, my friends, in Indiana (and most of the midwest, I suspect), we have something much, much worse than Blooming Season. We have Harvesting Season. And when the farmer hauls out his ginormous farm equipment and starts cutting down the brown stalks of corn and tufts of soy beans, the Hayfever... it goes Haywire.

Work is going well. I spend a lot of time doing this:



...and looking at stuff like this:



...and this:



But so far, I do like it. It appears to be something I was made to do. We'll see. I have odd hours and it requires some nights and weekends, which I don't love, but hopefully that will decrease as time goes by.

And I spend a lot of time in the evenings writing reports, so everyone to whom I owe an email, phone call, or text message, please be patient. I'm still trying to manage my schedule AND my sanity.

I'm A Big Fat Liar

I started working Today.

Observing a co-worker during home visits.

And tomorrow too.

Now I have to go to bed because the 6 am alarm is killing me.

Bringing Sexy Back

I couldn't find any Hydrocortisone. But I was desperate, so I went back to that bottle I'd been ignoring. It brought back so many memories of my childhood - hikes and camping trips that frequently ended up in Poison Ivy. Is there anything more distinctive than the color and smell of Calamine lotion?

I didn't want to have to go there, but my ears are burning (and not in an oh, someone's talking about me sort of way) and red and swollen; they are scaly and bumpy and itchy (sexy, I know), as is the surrounding 2 inches of skin and the back of my neck. It's bad. It started yesterday morning and has gotten worse and worse over the past 2 days until tonight, when I was ready to rip my ears off, just to rid myself of the discomfort.

I wracked my brain, trying to figure it out. All I could think was that I had my hair returned to it's natural state (minus 4 inches (!!)) on Monday. Maybe my ears were a reaction to the chemicals? But my scalp was fine... not to mention the fact that Omm used the same haircolor she's been using for the past 13 years...

Then all of a sudden it hit me - sometimes, when I wear my glasses, the skin behind my ears is raw and itchy the next day (which for most people, would make them think they were allergic and they would stop wearing the glasses - me, not so much as I am Stubborn). I wore my glasses Monday night whilst studying for my Tuesday morning interview. Duh.

Unfortunately, this "A-Ha Moment" didn't solve the problem - I was still uncomfortable and distracted and whining like a big fat baby to anyone who would listen.

So back to the Tub-O-Pharmaceuticals I went, zeroing in on the Calamine Lotion. But when I picked it up, I noticed how it had the distinctive air of "Flea Market". The bottle actually stated, "Shatterproof Bottle" in big letters, right on the front. Remember when plastic bottles were considered an evolutionary advance for humans? I turned the bottle over, not expecting to find an expiration date. "1/88." January 1988. (Which probably means it was purchased about 3 years earlier.) Seriously. Think about it... what were you doing in 1988? That was a DAMN long time ago.

Regardless of this scary fact, I was desperate (remember the desperation?) ...so I shook the antique Calamine Lotion up. I smelled it. And as it smelled exactly like it was supposed to, I grabbed a cotton ball and now I'm sporting chalky pink ears and neck, the scent unmistakably Eau de Summer, 1985.

The News, It Is Good

I got the job.......

(!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

I start training on Monday.

In the nutshell, I'm an Intervention Specialist, working with families in need of services (parental education, coping skills, general life skills...) referred to my company, from the Department of Child Services.

Thanks for the well-wishes, crossed fingers, and prayers!

Girl, Out of Her Box

This was written last week, when I arrived early for an interview at Purdue and waited in the hallway, in a chair, outside the doorway of an English classroom...

It's been 16 years since I sat in these hallways. Back then, in my early 20's, I had on some old, ripped-up Levi's, sneakers, and a sweatshirt (probably inside out).

Today, at 40, I have somehow traveled full circle and am back where I started.

I sit here in my favorite designer suit with the kicky pleated skirt, wearing black slingback pumps of the same designer, my hands shaking slightly, my too-long hair pulled back in a sensible black barrette.

I am early. By 30 minutes. So I decide that a scan of the job description I am interviewing for and a quick study of my resume might be prudent at this point, but I am distracted. Young students, Dillon's age; grad students, barely older; and professors pass me in the hall, giving me a sideways glance, no-doubt wondering why I am looking so spiffy and uncomfortable in their hallway on a rainy Thursday afternoon.

The job I am here to interview for is something I don't really want to Do. It's a secretarial position. Of all the things I never wanted to be, "Secretary" was near the top of the list - I worked hard in college, my motivation avoiding having to be a secretary some day. (Ironic, isn't it?) But as life goes on, priorities change and at this point, being free of a dysfunctional relationship far outweighs taking a job that falls short of my career goals and in the end, after talking myself in yet another circle, I really do want this job.

So I take a deep breath, put on a smile, and return to studying my resume.

But I keep eyeing my watch, my stomach feeling tighter with each passing minute.

Finally, it's time...

Precocious, Personified

If you look up the word Precocious in the dictionary, you will arrive at a 2-page spread with this face grinning out at you:


This is my beautiful niece, Isabella. She is five ("Five-and-a-half!"), just started Kindergarten, and I have no doubt is schooling her so-called-teachers on anything that happens to come up - you know - reading, writing, coloring... She is smart. She never shuts up, and the things that come out of her mouth keep us in hysterics and shaking our heads. ("DON'T LAUGH AT ME!") For example:

Yesterday, in the car...

"Once, when I was three, I had a disease."
"What?"
"Once, when I was three, I had a disease."

Mac looked at me, laughing, and said, "That's what I thought she said."

Me: "You had a disease?"
"Yes, and it made my feet crinkly and my hands crinkly and my body crinkly."
"Ok." (If you say so...)

And later...

"When I was at Wago & Papa's when you were gone, me and my mom rode the scooters all the way to Indiananakolis. And to China."
"You did?! And you didn't run out of browdy*? (*The way she used to pronounce 'battery.')
"AUNTIE. It's BROWWWWNIE."

Which made Mac and I lose it.

And really pissed her off.

Then I had to apologize.

She is sassy and she makes stuff up. She is certain, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that she is right and will argue until most people say, "Fine", and walk away defeated. But not me. I will argue with this 5-year-old. Behold:

(While driving through a newer section of my parent's neighborhood last night.)

Bella: "This is my neighborhood."
Me: "No, baby. This is Wago & Papa's neighborhood."
"No, this is my neighborhood."
"No, Honey, your house is about 3 miles away. This is near Wago & Papa's house."
"No it isn't."
"Yes it is."
"No it isn't."
"Bella, I am older than you and I know where we are. Your neighborhood is nowhere near here."
"Yes it is."

While realizing all the while, how absurd it is that I'm arguing with a sassy-pants kindergartner, now I'm starting to get pissed:

"Now you're just being sassy."
"No I'm not."
"Yes you are."
"No I'm not."
"One more word and you're taking a timeout when we get back to Wago & Papa's house."

And in a classic reverse-move, she changed her attitude and the subject and became all sunshine and roses, a little Shirley Temple.

I don't for a second think that she truly thought we were in her neighborhood. I think she just likes to argue and likes to win. What she doesn't know is that I like to win too and I'm bigger, I am smarter; I have the ability to make any chair a Time-Out Chair, and have the Parental Coup-de-Gras, the "Because I Said So" Rule to trump any BS she tries to fling my way.

Workshop As Reality Check

FYI:

If you happen to file for divorce in my county, and you have children under the age of 18, you will be required to take a four-hour, State-Mandated Workshop for Divorcing Parents. You will sign in, fork over $35, and wait eagerly to learn something that you didn't already know. Chances are, if you are a bright, (mostly) fortunate woman, nothing that comes up will be a surprise.

Most of the lecture was Sheer Common Sense: Don't talk bad about your Ex in front of your children. Don't discuss Child Support with your children. Don't scream at your Ex in front of your children... Bottom line - think about the children before you act.

There was a bit mentioned about the process of divorce: Custody, Child Support, Mediation vs. Lawyers. (All of which was irrelevant to me as this class is a prerequisite for the final hearing but as I am Special, my divorce was actually final months ago and I had to do this in retrospect.)

We watched a documentary about divorce from the children's point of view. Besides the obvious white-bread kids and their parents, the only problem I had with the video was the frosted blue eye-shadow, wide belts, and feathery hair that screamed 1987. Why did no one think to update this film in the past 20 years? I was so distracted wondering how these children turned out and if they were ok today. (And by the bad fashion choices - let's be Real.)

Bottom line: This class was not terrible. It was information that even if you KNOW it, it's worthwhile to hear it again. (You know - For The Children.)

...And if that wasn't enough, hearing the other women's stories was enough to send me home thinking how fortunate I am: I have no Restraining Orders against my Ex. No No-Contact Orders. I have no files full of X-Rays of broken bones. I have no threatening letters to show The Court, or bruises from my mother-in-law, accrued during a child-transfer. My car hasn't been repossessed because my Ex was irresponsible enough to not pay the bill, and I know that when my children are with him they are safe.

Life could be wrapped in a prettier bow right now, but whether dressed up in its finest, or examined under a microscope, my Life is Fine. It's progressing. Slowly, but surely. And Safely.

Annie Report

I've gotten several requests for news about Annie, and as I'm part of the reason she's been MIA for so long, it only seems right that I let you know that she's ok. I haven't talked to her in a couple of weeks but she sent me a text message while I was in my Court Mandated Workshop for Divorcing Parents* yesterday.

She has not posted since July 8th because since that date, she's been running around like a chicken with her head cut off (except for the week she was flat on her back with the Migraine/Sinus Extravaganza). First, her sister-in-law and husband came to visit for a week. Then, the day after they left, I came to visit for 2 weeks. Then the day after I left, she went to the East Coast to visit family and old friends. If I'm not mistaken, she's flying back to the West Coast today and should be back in the saddle shortly.

I'll let her know that you all missed her.

*Seriously. More on that later...

Self-Portrait Saturday

Apparently, the midwest can only do extremes. We went from 100 degrees a couple days ago to the 60's today. And it was cloudy and 'tut-tut looked like rain' all day long. And the kids are both gone, and I'm tired as hell as I only slept for 3 hours last night, so I spent most of the day lolly-gagging about.

Behold:

The full glory of my laziness can be seen here.

Overheard After Dinner

Dad: "Maybe that's why I can't keep you married; you're not so dainty."

On the Other Hand...

I could be this guy:

"Dear God. Not only am I unemployed and homeless, but I also have a pregnant woman, bereaved dog, elephant, and eleven horses to take care of."

Jacob Jankowski, Water for Elephants ~Sara Gruen

Something to Think About

"Love is a temporary madness, it erupts like volcanoes and then subsides. And when it subsides you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the promulgation of promises of eternal passion, it is not the desire to mate every second minute of the day, it is not lying a wake at night imagining that he is kissing every cranny of your body. No, don't blush, I am telling you some truths. That is just being "in love", which any fool can do. Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away, and this is both an art and a fortunate accident. Your mother and I had it, we had roots that grew towards each other underground, and when all the pretty blossom had fallen from our branches we found that we were one tree and not two. But sometimes the petals fall away and the roots have not entwined. Imagine giving up your home and your people, only to discover after six months, a year, three years, that the trees have had no roots and have fallen over. Imagine the desolation. Imagine the imprisonment."

Dr. Iannis to Pelagia, Corelli's Mandolin ~ Louis de Bernieres

Overheard

Mackenzie: "Hey Mom, look! I arranged my hoop earrings to represent the planets: Here's the sun, Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune, and way out here is Pluto."

"Cool! But Pluto's not a planet anymore, remember. They changed their minds. I feel pretty sorry for him; I bet it really hurt his feelings."

"Well, the good news is that he won't find out for a hundred-million-years."

Like an Out-of-the-Blue Hug

Yesterday afternoon I was in my room reading - I had, minutes before, picked up "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows" when the phone rang (and if you've been paying attention at all, you know that due to an unreasonable, debilitating, and just plain stupid Phone Phobia, I cringe every time the phone rings in my direction). I heard Mom pick it up and then exclaim in delight to the caller on the other end. As I sat there, still as stone hoping to go unnoticed, I could hear her approaching my room, "How ARE you? ... Yes, it's been a long time! ... Yes, she's right here."

And then she handed me the phone, a big grin spread across her face. If there's one thing I hate more than the sound of the phone, it's a surprise person on the other end...

"Who is it," I hissed to my mom.

Still grinning, she shook her head. She wasn't talking.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Paige! How are you?"

"FINE," I exclaimed with false enthusiasm while mouthing to Mom, "WHO IS IT?"

Still grinning, she whispered, "Mich." (Short for Michele.)

At which point the room dropped out beneath me and my vision became a tunnel of swirling memories, some happy and warm, some regrettable and humiliating.

She was talking on the other end, "... we were all together this weekend and you were in all the pictures with us. We started to wonder how you were and I vowed to find you and call. So how are you?"

We talked for about 25 minutes. The unhappy circumstance to prompt her phone call was the death of one of our old friends. At the funeral last weekend, her family had memorialized her life in photos, and smiling back at all those old friends from Central Indiana, were college-era girls and boys having the time of their lives. Apparently, in many of those photos was a ghost from their past, looking very much like me (but younger and skinnier). And as they relived those times, Mich vowed to track me down.

And now here she was, on the phone, sounding exactly like she did the first time I heard her voice drift down the hallway in our Freshman dorm 22 years ago. Her room was only two down from mine, and we hit it off immediately. I started hanging out with she and her roommate which progressed to going home with her on weekends where I met her amazing group of childhood friends (who are still as close as they were back then), and shared all of the normal college experiences with her - roadtrips to IU, hangovers, all-nighters, bars & boys.

But that was a rough time in my life and while we tried to hold a friendship together through all of my personal issues and bad decisions (seriously - if I had the power to do it over again...). Anyway, our lives eventually drifted apart. The last time I talked to her, before yesterday, was 16 years ago, just before T and I got married, where we met she and her husband at a local bar for drinks. I don't remember that meeting going particularly poorly, but we didn't talk again all the same. I have thought about her often during the years, and always regretted letting her go. I even tried to find her more than once, but as both her maiden and married names are fairly common, I was sadly unsuccessful.

We talked while she was in the car, catching up on our respective broods, my multitude of husbands come and gone, where we've been and what we've been doing, with plans to email, call, and meet the next time they come down for a football game. I can't begin to tell you how great it was to hear her voice. She is my oldest college friend and I've missed her so much during these long, weird years.

Let's Get This Out of the Way First...

Before we get this party train back on track, I need to backtrack a bit:

San Diego

San Diego was wonderful. I was able to relax and read and just chill out for a bit, which was the intention in the first place. We went to a BBQ at Brain and Lisa's, and had a Cherry Girl Reunion at Angie's. I played with Sam, learned about The Backyardigans and the Wonder Pets, took walks, went to the beach, and ate in all my favorite restaurants. The only thing to dampen our spirits was the fact that Annie came down with a combo sinus infection/migraine, which TKO'ed her for 5 days. But she's ok now and we still had a great time. (Even though I missed seeing Emily. But I'll see her next time.) Oh. And I had to stay an extra day because the brakes on my plane broke and there were no other flights home. So BACK to the airport Annie came, she rescued me and we went shopping instead. Also, I have no photos to appease you with because I forgot my camera. You'll just have to use your imagination.

I got home on Tuesday, the 30th, turned 40 later that week, and...

Missouri

...remained in town until Saturday the 4th, when Mom, Dad, Alison, Sydney, Mackenzie and I all piled into Alison's van and headed to a camp near Branson, MO, where we dropped Sydney off for the week. We stopped in Rosebud, MO (Population 364) to visit dad's friend, Will and his daughter, Renee, and I was bitten by a horse. It was just a nibble, though. The bruise is almost gone now. I do have a (slightly blurry) photo of that:

School

Dillon is signed up for classes at the Comunity College and Mackenzie is registered for 7th grade. They both start on August 20th, and both seem to be looking forward to it.

Work

Dillon has found a job at the local Pizza Joint.

I have found nothing. But I'm working on it...

Play

Dillon has been hanging out with his friends Big Tony and Number 19, and bought his first car after we got here:


Mackenzie has had dive practice every weekday where she has met several brand new friends and she dove in her first meet here on the 1-meter board (placed 5th out of 19) and the 3-meter board (placed 5th out of 6) and had a great time.

When I'm not scouring the web for a job, I have been lurking around with my camera taking pictures, playing with my mom and my sister quite a bit, I saw the Harry Potter movie yesterday, and had lunch today with Joyce and Christine, 2 (I almost said "old" but we are Not Old) friends from high school.





I think that's it. Do you have any questions before we move on?

I'll post my birthday photos soon, but most of them are on Dad's computer because my camera battery was dead and I'll need to transfer them to mine.

OH! And also, Happy Second Birthday, Lauren! I just realized it was the 11th today! I love you!

Self-Portrait Saturday Returns

It's blurry. Clearly, I'm out of practice.

Birthday Thanks

Once upon a time, there was a Girl who was turning 40. While she was not especially depressed about this circumstance, she was a bit down that all of her friends were residing in Far-Away places and couldn't share her day, a few laughs and a cocktail (or so) with her.

Fortunately, one of these friends was a Super-Thinker and a Super-Planner and she concocted a strategy to execute a Super-Secret-Virtual-Birthday-Party for this lonely, displaced Girl. And on August 3rd, after her family took her out for the Traditional Chinese Dinner at Szechuan Gardens (where they should by now qualify for the Frequent Diners Discount because Girl is nothing if not predictable and she picks the Same Restaurant for her Birthday Dinner every single year), her Super-Sneaky family made a plan to distract her (ohhh, shiny!) while they piled presents from Far-Away Friends on the table so that when she moseyed into the dining room, she had to look twice at the mountain of boxes and envelopes surrounding the gorgeous flowers from Super-Thinker and a Super-Planner Girlfriend. She was thunderstruck (for she knew that her family loved her, but she didn't think they loved her quite This Much)!

With a puzzled look on her face, she moved closer to the table so she could read the return address labels: San Diego, England, Oregon, Virginia, Michigan, Maryland ... she only made it through a few before she started crying at the realization that she may not have friends in Indiana, but she has a wealth of friends circling the globe.

After she dried her eyes and the Fantastical Nature of the Situation set in, she sat down to start the Great Unwrapping. She discovered Starbucks Cards, a Pink (Breast Cancer Awareness) Blender, Cherry accouterments, Flamingoes, a Tiara, Earrings, Shopping Cards, Wine, T-shirts, Martini Glasses WITH Mixers, an Ann Taylor Loft Card... a multitude of brilliant gifts! She opened them all, all the while amazed at how Incredibly Awesome her friends and family are.

At the end of the day, she had a belly full of General Tso's Chicken and cake, an abundance of great new stuff in her room, but the most valuable gift she received was the knowledge that she was the Luckiest Girl, with the Best Friends and Family, in the Whole Wide World.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart, to each and every one of you exceptional and extraordinary friends, with a special thanks to Annie, Super-Thinker and a Super-Planner Girlfriend.

Hugs and Kisses, Paige

Another Rare Sighting

Really, it’s not that I don’t WANT to write, it’s just that there is no Time. First of all, since my computer is Mac’s main way of communicating with her friends, it is usually Her Turn and rarely My Turn. I’m working on that problem...

And then, there’s the Job Situation. The Job Search is on, but no bites yet.

...Which is kind of good, as I am leaving in an hour to go to San Diego for 10 days. To visit with Annie. I’ve escaped to her house before. She’s my Hero.

And then there’s the fact that I’m living at home with Mom and Dad (THANKS, BTW!), and with 5 people in the house, there is rarely any private time (we won’t even talk about how many times my phone rings during the day - Hi, Ali!). And since my favorite time to write is in the evenings, when everyone is in bed and it’s dark and quiet and since it doesn’t get dark here until almost 10 and since it’s rarely quiet... you get my point. It’s a puzzler.

Also, I’m just not exceptionally thrilled with this new blog*. There are a few inconvenient glitches in the publishing and limited (for me, anyway) control over the template, and I’m just not Super Duper Thrilled with this whole new setup. Unfortunately, I haven’t found an alternative yet. And there’s little time to research....

Catching on? Anyway, if you’re looking for me, you can find me with Annie, the Evil Queen. I’ve got to go get dressed.

*This post transferred from Old New Blog. It didn't work out.

Since We Last Talked...

• Mackenzie started swim and dive practice
• Dillon had his last day of work
• Dillon went to his senior prom with his girlfriend Sam
• both of my babies Graduated (Dillon from high school, Mac from elementary school)
• I had MY last day of work (did you hear the celebration from there?)
• Mac got Pink Eye AGAIN as did Scott, Debra, and Sam (Dillon's friends)
  
• Chris has come and gone for the last time, taking half my stuff with him ;)
• my parents visited and saw Dillon’s graduation
• and we toured Manassas Battlefield
• my sister, Alison, visited and attended Mac’s “promotion ceremony” with D and I
  
• after which Mac had a 6th grade dance (where Alison and I schooled them on the Electric Slide)
• and then I took her on my “Nazi Tour Guide Lady”™ Tour of DC - 10 miles in ONE day (My right hip STILL hurts. That was last Monday. No joke.)
• and we went to Wiley’s birthday party AND out to dinner in the same night
• on Tuesday and Wednesday I packed out and moved out (well, almost - we’re sleeping in the house on an air mattress until tomorrow, when we will go to Jeff & Lisa’s until Wednesday morning)
• I vowed NEVER to live in a 3-story house EVER again
• I have cleaned my house from top to bottom, including windows, chair rails, floor boards, and fan blades
• Mac and I had dinner with Beth and Sheila last night at the Greek Restaurant in Old Town where our bill came to $200 (!)
• Mackenzie had her first Swim Meet of the year
• AND ROCKED THE HOUSE! She swam free, back, and back in the medley relay and is now the proud owner of 3 new Blue Ribbons!!!
• Mac has her first Dive Meet tomorrow
• and I bought* (ACTUALLY purchased - it’s a Done Deal) a ticket to San Diego for 10 days to visit with Annie in July for some much-needed R&R

*Which reminds me... Mom & Dad, will you watch Mac while I’m in SD? That’s why I was calling you tonight while you were in Americus trying to eat dinner (where the magical Verizon Technology has apparently not yet been discovered). I bought the tickets anyway, so I hope you say yes.

The End.

I Do Wash Windows...

When Mac walked into my bedroom tonight and saw the ironing board, she said, “Oh, my God.” And then doubled over, trying to catch her breath.

When I mentioned that I might even pick up a needle and thread and do some mending, she started hyper-ventilating.

I don’t usually buy things that need to be ironed, I hate it so much, and I do have a plastic bin to store the things that need to be mended - not that I actually ‘mend’... (Who am I? Laura Ingalls Wilder?) I usually just store these skirts with ripped seams and shirts with missing buttons until they go out of style and I can throw them away. I have this Ralph Lauren khaki mini skirt that has needed the button sewed back on for the better part of 4 years (5 might not be an exaggeration). But since there is a drawstring on it, does it really need a button? It’s button has lived in the pocket of the skirt this whole time - except when it’s in the wash - then I rest it on the washing machine.

I have even carried this skirt (and it’s button) from Japan to Indiana, twice, with the intention of asking my mom to sew the button on for me, but then I remembered I was an adult and was too ashamed to ask. So I took it back home, sans button.

But as it’s time to pack up and move again, I am seriously considering trying this thing you call ‘mending’. So if you happen to catch on the news that Hell has frozen over, you can assume my skirt has regained it’s button.

The Break-Up Conversation

Exactly one month after my divorce was final, I had to have the Break-Up Conversation.

With someone I was not only NOT dating, but someone that I wouldn’t date in a million, zillion, kajillion years.

He is my neighbor. We’ll call him Eager Beaver. EB for short. He came over on the day that Ann-Marie and I were putting the For Sale sign out in front of my house. And like a couple of girls, we couldn’t get the job done. He muscled it into the ground for us and when he asked about the move to San Diego, I let him know about the divorce and the Indiana Plans. Before he walked off, he mentioned that he wanted to take me to lunch before I left for putting up with his extensive crap while I worked at the Association. While he was not the worst Resident, he was a pain in the butt... with some rage issues. But he was always polite to me. And not thinking much of it, as he is not the only one to make such an offer, I said yes.

But then like a date, he opened every door for me (even after I told him to cut it out). And during the course of lunch, he suggested that we:

1. go hiking
2. go hit golf balls
3. go to dinner
4. go shopping because he “needs a woman’s opinion”
5. go to the beach

All of which I politely refused. (This is also the Lunch Date that did not eat.) He did not get the picture because about a week later, he called me and asked me out. I told him, “I’m sorry, EB, I’m just not ready to date and the kids aren’t ready for me to date yet.” Somehow I got him off the phone that day, but then later, he came into my office to ‘chat’. Then I saw him driving past the back of my house several times (in 2 years I have NEVER seen him drive by - he lives in the building perpendicular to mine and doesn’t have to drive down the street behind my house, where I park, to go anywhere.) Then last week, he called to ask me out again, at which point I reminded him of my earlier “I’m-Not-Ready-To-Date” Speech, to which he responded, “It’s not a date. I just enjoy your company and you’re leaving in a month anyway, so it’s not a date.” I told him I was just not comfortable with going out no matter what he called it, and he would Not Take NO for an answer, prompting me to reach in the deep, dark, recesses of my memory and drag out what I remember of The Break-Up Conversation - I even think I threw in a, “It’s not you, it’s me” or two. I apologized, I told him I was flattered but just not ready, and it was just not going to happen. There was an awkward moment where I said, “I’ll see you around.” A stunned silence during which I said, “Bye”, and hung up in disbelief. And I thought it was over. That was last Friday.

But it was not over:

EB came into my office yesterday to pay his HOA Fee, and looked right past Beth and Julie (new girl) who were sitting there, and said to me, “You’ve got to come outside and see what I got.” I was hoping it was a bunny or maybe some cookies. I like cookies.

It wasn’t. It was a car. A sports car. A Black, Toyota Supra WITH A GIANT FIN ON THE BACK. Folks, it is physically impossible for me to get worked up over a car. And as far as cars go, while I don’t judge a person by what they drive, I do believe that what you drive says a lot about you. And a Black Toyota Supra WITH A GIANT FIN, on a 43 year old single guy says, “I may be 43, but I’ve never matured past 23.” Holy Crap.

Then, while we were standing there, he asked me out AGAIN. I said no AGAIN. He BEGGED. He said he was “smitten” with me (I swear to God, I am not lying. I couldn’t MAKE this stuff up!) and that I was “his type”. How could I possibly be His Type when he is the Antithesis of My Type?!?!?! He was literally standing in the middle of my parking lot, with his arms out, asking me what he had to do to get me to go out with him.

And because I am WEAK, I told him that I will not change my mind, but if I do, he will be the first to know. So he gave me his email address. And home number. And cell number. So that no matter what time of day it was, if I decided to go out with him, he would know immediately.

Dear God,

Why does Hell look like Northern Virginia?

Paige.

In the Pink

It will surprise no one that Mac has Pink Eye and if Dillon and I (can Taiko get Pink Eye?) manage to escape uninfected, it will be a miracle. When I called the Base Clinic this morning, I was number 19 in the hold queue. I took that to be a bad sign. I was right. No appointments for today or in the foreseeable future (assuming that June 14th is the “foreseeable future”). But the Duty Nurse “referred us to Inova Urgent Care at [DeWitt Army Hospital’s] expense”. When we got there to check in, the lady at the front desk had no idea what that could mean. We’ll see....

So after sitting in Urgent Care for 2 hours, I took her prescription to CVS where they told me it would be ready in 30 minutes. We ran errands for 55 minutes, after which we returned to CVS where we were told that it wasn’t supposed to be ready until 5pm, wasn’t even in the computer yet, and I should sit down because if I wanted it now, it would be 15 minutes. As my patience for Virginia is shot, and I had already wasted my afternoon away with some of Fairfax County’s most infectious, I didn’t take that well. And unfortunately, the Pharmacist didn’t quite understand the finer points of Customer Service (because you all know I am an Olympic Gold Medalist in Customer Service - ahem), and instead of just apologizing for the mix-up and filling my prescription ASAP by putting the damn eyedropper in a bag, she just stared at me, did not apologize, and had the nerve to tell me that it would be a while because they were just now putting it into the computer and there were CUSTOMERS AHEAD OF ME.

I did sit down, and I did wait patiently, but don’t worry, I didn’t leave before s-l-o-w-l-y and gently explaining to her why it was not acceptable for me to be told 30 minutes and then to expect me to wait longer with a sick child because someone in her department made a mistake.

I still don’t think she got it, but when I turned around to leave, the elderly gentleman behind me looked right at me and smiled and said, “Good job. I don’t blame you.”

Don’t poke the Mama Bear.

Photo Credit - Mackenzie

Weekend At Candi's

About a week ago, I started to panic when I realized that while anxiously waiting for My Time Here To End, My Time Here To End snuck right up on me. I had about 4 weekends left, and about 3200 friends with whom I wanted to hang out. I added and re-added my remaining free time, but the math wouldn’t work out - there’s no way for me to do everything and see everyone I want to see before I go. But what I could manage to work out was seeing two different friends this weekend:

For the past 7 years, I’ve had this friend, Nicole. We’ve watched each other’s kids grow up, we’ve been there through each other’s moves, we’ve (along with Bec) rooted for each other through exercising, laziness, and thick and thin (literally, thick and thin). Unfortunately, we had never met. Until yesterday. She was spending the weekend with her sister about 40 minutes away and invited Mac and I to their family BBQ so we could finally meet in real life. And exactly as I expected, as was the case when I met Bec last summer, I felt like we’ve known each other for years. There were no awkward lulls in the conversation, no personality differences, no watching the clock, waiting until I could gracefully exit. It is a fact that you can meet a True Friend on the internet. I know because I did. Twice.

When I left Nicole’s sister’s house yesterday afternoon, I headed on down Southern Maryland to Pax River to see Jes (the Candi to my Brandi) and the Babies one last time. It always amazes me, how much we can find to talk about every time we’re together. Mac was with me this time and she was very patient with the little kids - you know how intolerant she can be with the preschool set. So the kids watched “Footloose”, the moms drank Caipirinhas, and everyone was happy. Until the next morning, that is. I woke up at 4am to vomit (I only had 2 Caipirinhas - it was not the booze), after which I felt fine, Mac woke up with her eyes crusted shut - when we finally pried them open, they were bright Pink.


And despite the massive wipe-down I did with the anti-bacterial wipes, I don’t expect to be invited back soon. (And thus the reason I’m risking life and limb by posting a photo of us. Hi, Jes, Love You!)

So as I type, we’re sitting in my bed, watching Season 3 of M*A*S*H, and being generally useless.

Welcome, Summer!!!

Silenced

So. Lately, the writing has become a chore. What was once an escape for me has become tedious. What I started in 2003 to keep in touch with my friends and family while I lived overseas has recently made me feel as though my privacy has been compromised.

I used to post thoughts and stories that I would have been comfortable sharing at a dinner party or over coffee with friends, but lately I've felt a greater need to edit my thoughts and what I share with the internet and it has made my writing disengenuous.

Therefore, I am taking a hiatus from writing and will make Cartwheels At Midnight completely private by Monday.

(I will continue to make updates regarding The Journal at its Blog.)

Serendipity

While Mackenzie and I were taking our walk today, we passed a home with a picket fence, which brought to mind a long-ago picket fence I used to walk by while pregnant with her. And as we were walking, I told her the story of that picket fence (which was white, I think):

Back then, we rented a little 1920's bungalow in a little neighborhood in San Diego called Golden Hill, which resides at the southeast corner of Balboa park. The neighborhood to the south of us was a little sketchy, sprinkled with old unkempt Spanish-style houses, century-old cottages maintained with love, and what were once mansions, now made into pink stucco apartment buildings. To the north of us was a neighborhood aptly named South Park. It was a little wealthier, the homes a little bigger, the streets a little safer.

And every day, Dillon (who was still not in kindergarten) and Dakota (our Alaskan Malamute), and I would take a walk in South Park among the turn-of-the-century mansions overlooking the park and the stately craftsman-style homes. One of these homes was a big yellow house (it's yellow in my memory, with white trim), with a porch big enough for a table, on a corner lot, surrounded by a white picket fence. At 26 years old, I thought this was the perfect home and I would sometimes wave hi to the woman who lived there. There were children's toys strewn about the yard, sometimes a magazine or glass of tea left on the porch: others, there was evidence of recent gardening, and a dog that lived here who loved to play fetch. Every day, as we passed his house, he would greet us, and if there was a ball near enough to the fence that we could stick our arms through and grab it, he would play fetch for as many times as we would be willing to throw his ball.

Eventually, one day when we walked by, the mom was outside with her son, who was a toddler. Their dog came running up to us, and we stopped to say hello and play a little fetch. There were big yellow construction vehicles over at Balboa Park, which was close enough to see from where we stood, and the mom told me how ever since they had arrived, she had to stand outside several times a day with her son, who could never get enough of the "trucks." We talked a few times after that, but soon enough, my family and I moved up to a new, safer, less eclectic, but more school-friendly neighborhood called UTC. But I never forgot about that little yellow house, in the beautiful old neighborhood, with the little perfect family.

Five years, three apartments, one house, and one country later, we were living in Japan where I met a new friend who had also come from San Diego, and serendipitously, was the mother of Mackenzie's New Best Friend, Eliza. And one day while the girls were playing, she was telling me about her family, and her sister who happened to live in a little neighborhood on the southeast corner of Balboa Park. I could not believe the coincidence! I told her about how we used to live near there, and how I used to take a walk every day and how I loved this house with the mom and the boy and the toys and the dog and the white picket fence.

And while I sat and described the Home of My Dreams, a look of recognition came over her face. I was describing her sister's house. I had talked to her sister. We had to move all the way to Japan to reconnect with the family we never really knew, but loved anyway.

Happy Feet

So Jes went to Florida.

And she bought me these.

I love her.

HGTV Should Totally Give Me a Show

...in under 8 days.

Just Some Stuff

Stuff I Don't Like:

• When I go out to lunch with a friend, who happens to be a guy (it was NOT a date), and he eats WAY less than I do. I'm not ok with that. (You know who you are - if we happen to go out to lunch again, you need to eat more so as to make me feel comfortable. :) )
• My job. (31 days and counting!)
  
• When I make a Smoked Turkey Sandwich for lunch but neglect to pull the little wax paper off the slice of Muenster Cheese. And I also don't like how it took me more than half the sandwich to realize I was eating paper. (I was hungry. Probably because I didn't get enough to eat at aforementioned lunch.)
• Stone lions at someone's front door. (Unless you live in a palace. Or a temple. Then I'm ok with that.)
  
• When two different realtors call to tell us they are each going to make an offer on the house last Friday, and then don't.
• Ironing.
  
• Women who call my office all riled up and complaining that the landscapers mowed her grass today and did a "terrible job and left the grass bumpy". (I don't even know what this means! How do I fix it? Especially when I don't care...)
• Realtors who leave my front door unlocked after showing my house.
  
• Receiving my final divorce papers in the mail today. (It was final as of April 24th.) "Hello, Paige, here is tangible evidence of yet another failed marriage. One more and you're eligible for the Frequent Divorcer's Discount."

Stuff I Like:

• When two different realtors, who saw the house Saturday, call us today to say they are writing an offer tomorrow. (If only to validate my feelings that I have an awesome house and one of these days, someone is going to want to buy it.)
  
• Women who call my office and complain that the landscapers mowed her grass today and did a "terrible job and left the grass bumpy" in a really thick spanish accent so I can make fun of them for the rest of the day.
• Cookies.
• When I'm having a crappy day at work and my friend Julian calls because he's having a Really Crappy Day (new transmission - $4,000) and said he just needed to hear a happy person so I tell him, "I'm sorry, you have the wrong number". And it makes us both crack up and by the time I hang up a few minutes later, we are both smiling.
• My boss. (Hi, Beth!)
  
• Veterinarians who don't blow me off saying, "Oh, it's a reaction to some [mysterious] allergy," when I ask her about Taiko's skin-ick. She FINALLY has an idea what might be wrong with him. Fungal infection. Nasty. (Miss Jackson...)
  
• When Dillon is eating something he Really, Really likes and looks up and me and says with the intensity of a two-year-old, and the seriousness of a judge, "This is delicious."
  
• My super-freaky-clean-house.
• Taking Taiko to work with me because A) he can jump over every baby-gate ever made, and B) when I double baby-gate him in the laundry room, he cries for longer than socially acceptable. Though my neighbors are awesome and haven't complained. Yet...
  

• Getting a card in the mail from Omm with five dollars in it, and Mother's Day Cards from Annie and Jes.
• Watching Mackenzie sing in a chorus of 900 6th graders.

• Opening my fortune cookie to this fortune: "You have a strong desire for a home and your family comes first."

Stuff I Don't Like But Still Makes Me Laugh:

• This photo:

...and this one...

Janet Jackson Keeps Calling...

...but is too shy to say hi when I answer the phone.


What do you suppose she wants? Decorating tips? Parenting advice? My Lasagna recipe? The down-low on the Caipirinha? To borrow a bra? Perhaps some bangin' dance moves?

The next time she calls, I'm going to invite her to come hang out. I don't have much going on these days and from what I hear, neither does she.

What's Better Than Multiple Orgasms?

Multiple offers.

Weekend At Brandi's

Well, there was The Shopping on Friday. Don't get me started again.

But after all that shopping and cart-battling, we were starved. I gave her the choice: Taco Bell. Some little Italian Joint. Subway. Friendly's. (Isn't there an age restriction on Friendly's? I think we may be too spry.) Or the Chinese Joint next to the Italian Joint. Guess what she picked:


You should not be surprised by this. I don't even know why I wasted my breath giving her all the options.

We slept in slightly on Saturday morning because I was paranoid that the Realtors would be knocking my door down First Thing in the Morning wanting to see my beautiful house. They didn't. No one came and we could have slept until noon and then sat around all day in our underwear eating ice cream out of the carton, spitting sunflower seeds on the floor, and not cleaning up after ourselves. I was a little sad.

But then it was time for the Quinceanera party that Mac was invited to by her friend, John-Doe, and with all of the wondering if this was Mac's first date, I forgot all about my despair that no one wanted to buy my house on the very first day and how it was going to sit here rotting and empty and turn into a money pit; the weeds taking over the backyard and the spiders taking over the inside, and refocused on Mac. And her date. John-Doe's cousin was turning 15 and weeks ago he had invited Mac to go with him. No other kids in the class had been invited. I was a little concerned about this, as the Dating Age in our house is 16 (but we all know I will give in at 15 if she wants), but at the same time, is it really a date if she goes with his family? And she's 12? And there's little chance of making out in the front seat? I got a grip and decided it didn't qualify as a date, but asked her anyway. Her response was clear. She had been wondering too, "I don't know! I hope not!" OK! Good to know! So off she went...



...in my shoes...


And then called me later from the party to tell me how much these shoes were killing her feet. I laughed. And told her, "That's the price we pay. Welcome to the sisterhood." She didn't laugh back. ...I hear her feet still hurt.

Meanwhile, I tried to think of non-messy things to do. I made popcorn, watched Deadliest Catch, and began to look forward to living at home with my parents so I have someone to hang out with on Friday and Saturday nights. I'm a wild one, I am.

The Open House was on Sunday. We needed to make ourselves scarce so I invited myself, Mackenzie, and Taiko over to Singing-Lisa's house for the afternoon, where she fed us, Taiko sniffed her entire house, and we chatted for a bit. I was a little distracted and not a good conversationalist, I fear, because I was afraid no one was going to show up back at my house and was silently lamenting the crappy, crappy Market and my decision to price high. Please refer to aforementioned despair and imagine me just knowing that my friend/realtor was sitting in my house alone all afternoon. I told her that in case she got too bored, the Porn was in a red box in the attic. To please help herself.

The stress was for naught. Good things happened, which I will not talk about yet so as not to jinx myself.

(Even though I scoff at those who believe in the power of the jinx. And those who "knock on wood." Especially those who use their heads for said knocking. I double-scoff them.)

Also, I made chicken salad. With grapes:

It was delicious.

Shopping, How Do I Hate Thee? Let Me Count the Ways...

There are several reasons I don't take Mackenzie shopping anymore:

1. She hates everything in the store. It doesn't matter if we're at the Gap, or Target; Limited Too, Nordstrom or Abercrombie. The clothes are too long. Too short. Too loose. Too tight. Too many seams. Too many pockets. Weird buttons. Bows? (Are you kidding?) Too dorky. Too scratchy (She comes by this honestly. I am the Queen of "Too Scratchy" - sorry, Omm). Too pink. Too many flowers. Too "grandma". (Should all of these "too's" have two "o's" in them? They all look funny to me now.) Too matching. Too "Little House on the Prairie"...
2. Turns out, she's much like me and doesn't really care for shopping. Get the two of us together and we can talk ourselves out of shopping any day. (I know. We're an embarrassment to women everywhere.)
3. She's hit the Age of Modesty. When we're in a dressing room together she will contort her body in ways I've only seen little Chinese Acrobats do so that I won't see the Developments. (I don't know how this happened, as up until 3 years ago she was still jumping into the shower with me.)
4. And then there's the Funding Issues. And buying her something that she hates, just so she'll have something to wear is no longer in my budget. From now on I only buy things she LOVES. Sucks to be her.
   

But after school on Friday, we did have to go buy her something to wear on the bottom of her body as in the past month she has grown out of Every Single Pair of Pants and Shorts she owns. She came home from school on Monday in a pair of jeans that were painted on in a way that only Gloria Vanderbilt circa 1981 could be proud of. I don't know how this happened, as I've been feeding them only about half of what I normally do (Annie, I can hear you saying how they would have starved on more than one occasion in Japan if not for you and Carolyn. True Story.) as the new budget only allows for less than half of the old food allowance. (Who wants to come over for lunch? We're having Broth and Stale Bread. We call it "A Tribute to Oliver".) (Shut up! I'm joking! Today we went to Lisa's for lunch.)

OH, the distraction!

Anyway, we went to Kohl's. Friday, we went to Kohl's. She came away with a black skirt (needed for her Chorus Concerts), a dress (needed for the Quinceanera party she was invited to this weekend), a pair of shorts, and a pair of capri pants. And a couple of tank tops.

I came away with this:

Where she ran into me with the cart. (It doesn't look like much, but that's the side of my leg, right where there's a little bump of a bone that sticks out just under my knee... and it hurt enough to make the pretty colors sparkle before my eyes.)

Which leads me to:

#5. Shopping with Mackenzie can be harmful to your health.