Midlife, Martini’s and Me
November 8, 2006
When you reach a milestone such as your 37th birthday, you tend to look back and reflect on your life. Realizing you are knocking on Mid-Life’s door, one might take inventory of her life. Pondering the events that led her to where she is now. Birthdays can bring out the nostalgia in many women. In fact, a mature woman would take this time to ponder life’s amazing blessings.
Yeah right! Good thing I am not one of those women!
I chose to celebrate by going out with my husband where I ate greasy, fried food and drank eleventy martini’s. Well, maybe not that many. But I tried several. Apple Martini. Toasted Almond Martini. Chocolate Martini. And then blah blah blah martini and yada yada yada martini etc but only the bartender, the waitress and Clint know what followed because I was just the one drinking them, not ordering them.
A mature woman would call her family to just connect and feel that sense of togetherness family brings. Perhaps a mature woman in her late 30’s would call her business partner and friend and just let her know how much she means to her.
I am SO NOT that woman. I called my sister–after my fun dinner out– and left her a message that went something like:
“Okay FINE don’t call your sister on her birthday. I mean your BABY sister who looks up to you and sat by the phone all day long waiting…waiting…waiting! No, I am SO kidding. I love you man. I do. You’re my hero. I am sooooo messing with you!” Then dissolve into a fit of giggles and hang up.
But wait, while I have the phone, it is absolutely vitally important that I call my friend and partner and discuss the deepest meanings of life…
“Hi! I know it is late and all but I totally felt like dishing with you. Tell me the gossip. I mean it. I need some serious dirt on someone. Make it up. Do NOT talk business because that is such a buzz kill…..I love you man. No really, I do…Do I tell you enough that I appreciate all you do? You ROCK…”
The call lasted so much longer than those few sentences, but really, neither you nor I need to hear what was said. Especially when you call said friend and partner the next morning and her first words are, “How’s that headache coming along?” (For the record, I have no headache. At all. Jumped out of bed at 6:00am good to go. So there!)
Anyway, thanks for the birthday wishes. Thanks for the fun times. Thanks for knowing that I am SO not the woman who is going to do a retrospective of her life but rather tell you about martini’s and “not as clear headed as I normally am” phone calls. It’s for that reason that love you, man! No, I really do!
[Update: For the record, here is a link to a huge list of various martini’s…made with vodka. They may not be by definition “true” martini’s but vodka martini’s. Call them what you want, just buy me one next time we meet! Ha!]
[Yet Another UPDATE: If you know me, you know my fun love of exaggeration. That would be this entry. Relax. I have not slipped back into making drunk calls, acting like a sorority girl and completely losing my mind. I didn’t think I needed to qualify that, but here I am doing that. Just an FYI]
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10:47 pm | |
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Guess what I did!
August 16, 2006
Go on! Guess. I started another blog. (Shuddup, Amalah! I can so add one more!) It is not a typical Mommyblog, but it does have Mommyblogishness to it. Go on over and check it out. Please. I mean, begging is not above me, but come on people, as of this moment, I have not had more than one cup of coffee, so if I get down on my knees to beg, I just may fall asleep down there.
Go meet Marama and at my new Mom Gamer blog: Aggroqueen.
Did I mention that you are my favorite reader? Don’t tell anyone else, but really….you are my favorite!
tags: gaming, parenting, world of warcraft
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7:56 am | |
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Never say never, but also never say always (or something like that)
July 17, 2006
Hear me, dear Internet, because I think I have figured it out. I am going to have to take some drastic changes in my life in order to get things under control. Here they are in no particular order. No, wait, they are in some particular order, I just don’t happen to know what that is. Okay, so onto things.
1. I am going to stop saying (out-loud, in type or in my own head): “I am going to devote more time to my blogs. I can SO take this thing to the next level.” Why? Because inevitably the Fates hear me and laugh that maniacal laugh that makes the Earth tremble and my car feel the need to drive to Houston with me in it. Because someone, somewhere is crying out: Damn the Fiber Optic connection! Get her down here with dial-up! Slow computers! And tragedy! (Sticky fingered children included!)
2. I will no longer say “Sure, I can do that. I have enough free time.” Why? Because the Time Sucking Vacuum switches on to full suck wattage mode and any “free time” becomes manic-oh-no-now-what-am-I-going-to-do time. (Complete with sticky fingered children!) As I go running frantically to and fro looking for free time, my free time is sucked away. Sucked. Slurp! The more I look, the higher the suck wattage power indicator goes. So, no more saying I have f-r-e-e t-i-m-e.
3. July will be wiped off of future calendars. Of course, this means figuring out how to nudge BlogHer to another time or time warping just into those few days. Otherwise, July sucks. People go into the hospital. Friends freak the hell out. Finances implode. Wait. That should be IMPLODE with great implications of explosive noises and shrapnel going everywhere. Boom! July. Not so much fond of you. I shall make a new month and call it “Nothing Bad Happens Because Jenn is Sick of Crisis and Chaos” (NBHBJiSoCC for short. Or maybe just SoCC. We’ll discuss.)
4. Finally, I will never say never. Always say sometimes. Never say always. But frequently say whatever. Because, really, at this point…
WHATEVER!
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2:25 pm | |
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And the world exhales
May 29, 2006
The baby. (Perhaps the most gorgeous baby ever created if her parents are any indication.) She has been born.
You may now resume your regularly scheduled lives.
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4:37 pm | |
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I’m here, there and everywhere!
May 15, 2006
I know! I know! I totally owe you a real entry with real thoughts and feelings. But honestly, I had a rough weekend. I am working on that post now. In the mean time, I am going to send you to a few fun places to read some really fun things that I have been able to get written. You know you want a piece of the Jenn.
Over the weekend, in honor of Mother’s Day, Mommybloggers had a HUGE Q&A Cagematch! We had more Mom’s participate in this version than ever before. (I know. I read them all and helped format the answers!) Some of the funniest, most reflective and insightful women participated in this. You do want to go check it out. It is a fun read.
I am also over at BlogHer where I am talking about the kinship between Moms that passes time, distance and any generation gap that could exist. I was inspired by Chris of The Big Yellow House. (Does she rock or what?)
And finally, I want to send you over to help me out with my new gig. Remember when I told you that I was now blogging for ClubMom? Well, I am there. And, well, frankly, I have not seen a lot of you there. You’re breaking my heart, here, people. Okay, actually I wanted to tell you about a new feature I am staring at Hip Mom and Trendy ‘Tweens. (They had the final say in names, so hush!) Anyway, we are starting up a Q&A where if you submit a question or ask for an opinion, you get a two for one kind of deal. You will get not only the Mom side, but the ‘tween side as well. You can be a fly on the wall of your ‘tween’s world. Come over and submit something. Don’t leave me hanging. You all have been with me for ages. They don’t know me there yet. Show them that I am not the total dork that you have come to know and love. Help me Club some Moms! Let’s all pretend I AM that Hip Mom. Deal?
In return, I will be back here with the real entry I am working on for you. It was just one of those that come from the heart and it takes some time to get it out. You’ll be back, right? Because I would miss you. Yes, even YOU. The one who reads and never comments. The one over there who thinks I don’t know you are here. And even that one over there who comments, but only when I don’t post. (But not you over there with the penis enlargement pills. I won’t miss you!)
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It’s getting hot in here, so cut off all our power!*
April 17, 2006
I have checked, rechecked and triple checked my calendar. Yes, it is ONLY April 17th. Can someone please tell Mother Nature. She is in one bitch of a mood right now. Today, in Dallas, we hit 101 degrees. IN APRIL! APRIL.
The temperature hit 101 at DFW airport Monday afternoon. That broke the old daily record of 94. And it also broke the record for the hottest day ever in the month of April. On April 18, 1925, our temperature hit 100 degrees. So Monday was the hottest day ever in April, and also the hottest ever so early in the year.
Oh, but not only do we get to swelter in the temperatures of hell, but we also got to play that game of Rolling Blackouts! I think they roll the dice and decide who gets to have their power go out for 15-30 minutes. No warning. No set reasoning behind it. Just la la la going about your business and BAM power out. (Did I mention I hate heat and sweating and no power?)
Sidenote (because I am all about going off on tangents): After reading my post on making a suggestion to the power company about cutting-off the power for a while so I could spend time with my freakishyly geekish family and get them off of WoW, there was a brief moment where my boys and husband looked at me in horror. Bwahaha Slight justice in the feeling that they thought I had that kind of power!) It was all funny until I started to sweat. No longer funny.
So really, all of you people in the north that I sent my sympathies to while you were digging out from under your few feet of snow (though completely incomprehensible to me!), you can commence feeling sorry for me now. Go on. I’ll wait.
Thanks.
In other news….ummm…I am sure I have other news but my freakin brain has melted and oozed all over my keyboard. Tomorrow, tales of going back to Houston again and the unexpected hurdles that I had to tackle. I will also share with you the fun mommy guilt that comes when you need to try to find the best ways to help your kids with an issue we are dealing with and there are many ways to go and each one has people who will tell you how wrong you are.
Tonight, not so much. Melted. Brain. Remember?
*With apologies to Nelly for the horrendous rip off of his song. Hey, I could’ve gone with “My humps. My humps. My melting, sweating humps.” But really, that would be wrong for all of us. Or how about “Since It’s So Hot…I can’t Breathe when I walk outside!” I could do this all night. But I won’t. But really, feel free to join me. Beat me at this game. I am too hot to be parodious (adj: the ability to use parody without making others vomit too fiercely)! What can you give me?
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I’m just saying
April 14, 2006
I am going out of town with 2 of the kids this weekend. Which means that Clint and Brandon (and Doberbutt) will be left here. Whatever will they do? (Yeah, can someone remind them to stop playing WoW at least every few hours to eat and see if the sun is out and maybe, perhaps, take a breath of fresh air? That would be great! Thanks!) But before I go, I thought I would leave you with a nugget or two of wisdom.
1) You know those open letters that some people post online that NO ONE actually reads, because come on who really wants to read the rants of someone who feels they are all that that they are going to post an open letter on the Internet thinking they will be heard? Well, yeah, umm people read them. I’m just saying. (Hi guys! Mwah!)
2) Never tell two 12 year olds and a 10 year old (in an arrogant ‘I know better than you do’ way) that “Sure you can TRY to stay up all night if you want to” All the while in the back of your head knowing they will hit the wall by at least 4am. Because they totally will prove you wrong and be going strong at 9:00am. And certainly don’t agree to take one of them in the car with you for 6 hours. With a 5 year old who only had 5 hours of sleep. I just see it as a disaster waiting to happen. I’m just saying.
3) Don’t ever say…and I mean never ever say this…don’t say, “You are such a geek! I would–key word coming up–never play that game, you big overgrown role playing geekified freak who needs to breath more fresh air!” It will come back to bite you on the butt. I’m just saying.
4) Speaking of butts…also don’t offer to moon an extremely large group of people. They will await photographic evidence of your mooning. Especially when you arrogantly include the phrase “so you can kiss my ass”. I’m just saying.
I hope I have left you with enough wisdom to see you through the weekend. Have fun. Be good. Play fair. And for the love of all things normal, log off and breathe some fresh air people. Or I will be forced to moon you. And you do NOT want that!
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Wal-Mart forgive me for I have misjudged thee
April 8, 2006
Yes, I am still here. The past two days were rough on me. Thursday was the 3 month anniversary of Mom’s death. Yesterday would’ve been the 14th birthday of our stillborn son, Jacob. Having those two back to back were kind of brutal mentally. (And I got vomited on as well.) So, I allowed myself a day to wallow in my self-pity, moan about poor me, complain about how everything sucks, then announce that I was going to cry and go to bed early and NO one will disagree with me. (In other words, I put the fear of Crazy Mom into the hearts of my family and they let me be.) But I am feeling much better now. Why? Because today I grabbed my car keys, my purse and my favorite CDs and told the family I would be back in a few hours.
What did I do? I am glad you asked. First I went to go see a movie. (Do you really think I can or would resist a movie with Sarah Jessica Parker and Matthew McConaughey in it? Absolutely not. I owe Matt more than to ignore him on the big screen.) But this is not about them or the movie. This is about the Post Movie I Am All Alone High that led me to a place that terrifies me. A place that strikes fear into my heart and causes me to take anti-anxiety medication before going there. Oh, yes, after an hour of Matt, I lost my senses and went to…..Wal-Mart.
Let me tell you straight up, I hate Wal-Mart. Hate. Loathe. The aisles are too small. It feels like it is sucking the life out of me when I am there. I get mean. I get anxious. No matter how clean it is, I leave feeling dirty. I hate going there. I cannot recall a time where I have not left a Wal-Mart with verbally losing my cool with at least one dull-witted employee or feeling the intense need to beat the every loving snot out of at least one person. It brings out the very worst in me. However, when it comes to saving money, there are just some times I have to suck it up and go. ONLY during the week. On an off hour. But nooooo, I was all brave and ready to conquer the world Wal-Mart.
It is the “All New” Wal-Mart. Built to impress the Stepfords. The creme de la creme of Wal-Marts. Yes, I was skeptical. I was. I mean a Wal-Mart is a Wal-Mart is a hellish-torture-pit Wal-Mart.
I saw it as a good sign that I found a parking place right in the front. On a Saturday. (Impossible, people. Unheard of!) So far, so good. No twitching or anxiety yet. The outside looked huge, but surely it was a trick of the eye. Then I walked through the doors.
I stood a few feet into the store with my mouth agape and my eyes so wide they almost popped out of my head. There is NO WAY this is a Wal-Mart. People, let me just tell you about this place. H-U-G-E! Hard wood floors. To my immediate left was a section that overflowed with books. Aisles of books. And magazines. Bestsellers. New books. Lots of them. Like a mini-bookstore. I began to wander the store. (Did I mention the hardwood floors?) There was room in the aisles. I mean, I could dance if I wanted to. I had room to twirl and dance and get all jiggy with it if I wanted to. (I didn’t. But I could have.) I walked in a state of wonderment to the home decor area. I might have blacked out for a moment. I came to in a most bizarre place. Standing in front of a sushi bar. Yes, you did read that correctly. A sushi bar INSIDE a Wal-Mart. And it didn’t even look scary or like the fish came from discards at an old restaurant. If I liked sushi, I would’ve dropped to my knees right there and kissed the sushi case. But I don’t, so I didn’t. Oh, and right by the sushi bar was a beer and wine selection one would expect to find at a liquor store with 1,200 different varieties available! 1200! And it even has a computer that can tell shoppers which of the hundreds of wines go with which foods.
And they had….wait for it…a full service (with tables and Starbucks like atmosphere and coffee-shoppish snacks) COFFEE BAR. In WalMart. You could get a cappuccino or a latte and can sit inside the coffee shop in a big cozy chair and surf the Internet on the store’s Wi-Fi system. In a Wal-Mart.
And It had a spa. And nail salon. And a big photo studio without that crappy-ass backgrounds, but real professional looking ones. And an optometrist. And a hair salon that didn’t even look like a SuperCuts, but a real salon. In the electronics section, there’s an entire wall of the latest flat-screen TVs. And there just might have been a small house of worship, but I became too overwhelmed to look anymore. It was sooo good. I might have even had an orgasm or two just being in such a place.
I feared that if I did not buy something, the fates of Wal-Mart would curse me and make this place disappear, so I raced back to the back of the store and grabbed Dr. Pepper and wine. (No, not to consume together.) Oh, and of course a book. Must have a book. I thought that might be enough sacrifice to the gods of Wal-Mart.
I kid you not about this people. It was not post-good-movie bliss. This place exists. I just pray I don’t fall out of the wardrobe only to discover I was in Wal-Narnia with no way back in. That would crush me. But, I think I can find my way back. It is across the street from the full-size, always stocked Super Target. I have found the intersection of heaven itself. (Though, I fear that Clint will be installing a roadblock there to ensure I am unable to spend every cent we have on my two new meccas.) But fear not. I will return. You can’t keep me away from such an intersection as this. Oh no. It is my calling to go there. Often.
Wal-Mart, forgive me for I have misjudged thee.
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6:38 pm | |
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The things I will endure for a Slurpee
February 23, 2006
Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays I spend most of my day hauling children to and from school. I wonder at times if I actually live in my car. Seriously, I could be stranded in my car for days before I started to miss the comforts of home. In fact, if I were to get stranded alone, it would be longer than that. (This is the point I should add pictures, but for the life of me I cannot find the charger for my digital camera so we are all out of luck.) There are days when I have considered not even bothering to get out of the car between drop offs and pick ups. What’s the point? I can become the infamous car blogger. (Note to self: Look into hooking up laptop to steering wheel.)
So yesterday being a Wednesday, I was all over town as always. But with a twist. I had my husband’s car. It just was not right. My radio stations were not programmed. I didn’t have any of my own CDs. And there was not one Diet Coke, one cookie or even a piece of candy to tide me over. The biggest horror is that there was not ONE extra pair of shoes in the trunk. Who lives that way?
So at 9:00pm, much to my dismay I had to once again jump in the Car That Is Not Mine and run to the store. Across the street from the store is a 7-11. Suddenly I realized I MUST HAVE a Slurpee. I haven’t had a Slurpee in probably 20 years, but I really needed one RIGHT THEN. My only dilemma was that in order cross this street, I had to maneuver across 6 lanes of traffic under construction. One lane open. One closed. One open., Median. Open lane. Closed lane. Open lane. Then the Slurpee Haven. Normally, in my second home own car I would whip through that kind of car dodging situation without blinking an eye. But remember, I was in The Car That Was Not Mine. And it is a standard. The last time I owned a standard was about the last time I had a Slurpee. Could I be brave enough to slalom through the barricades and cars in a car that was not as familiar to me as my own?
Must. Have. Slurpee. I ground the car into first. (Hey, I told you it had been a while since owning a standard.) I dodged and ducked and whipped around barrels and flew past cars to safely arrive at the 7-11. I grabbed my money and dashed into the store. Just as the door was closing I hear that horrifying sound. The unmistakable sound of metal smashing metal, glass shattering in wreckage just outside in the parking lot. I couldn’t look. I grabbed the guy standing beside me and begged him to look and make sure my husband’s car was not hit.
“What kind of car is it?” he asked.
“Red. It is red. See if the RED CAR WAS HIT!”
He went outside and returned to reassure me that the red car was in fact fine. However.
“NO! Don’t say however!”
“However, they are locked together about a foot behind you, so you aren’t going anywhere for a while.”
After grabbing my Slurpee (which had lost a lot of its appeal by then), I leaned up against the counter and started talking to the 7-11 counter-boy.
“So, Johnny, does this sort of thing happen often here?”
“Uhhh, my name in not Johnny. Why are you calling me Johnny?”
“You have no name-tag and ‘7-11 counter-dude’ seemed rather odd since we’ll be hanging out for a while.”
“Works for me,” he shrugged. “This usually only happens on weekends when the teenagers are acting like idiots. Those two look like adults acting like idiots.”
Then the guy I grabbed to make sure that it was not The Car That Is Not Mine was not involved offered to take me down the corner and buy me a beer to wait it out.
Sure. I am always into jumping into cars with strangers to go grab a beer while waiting out a couple of cars that look to be copulating.
“That is so nice of you, but Johnny and I here have plans to hang out. I can’t just drop him. It would be rude. You know. Like leaving a party with someone other than the one who brought you. But really, the offer is so appreciated.” (I think Johnny choked back a laugh, but I couldn’t look at him for fear of laughing.
After about 15 minutes of really idle and quite boring chit-chat, I look at Johnny and say, “You know what movie line keeps going through my mind over and over?”
“Let me guess. ‘Of all of the 7-11’s in all of the world, I decide to stop at this one?’ Or a variation of some Casablanca line?”
I stare at him. This kid certainly didn’t look to be someone who would quote Casablanca. Now I felt stupid. “No, ummm…not so much. Actually, I was thinking of the infamous: ‘Strange things are afoot at the Circle-K’ but of course using 7-11 instead.”
Now it was his turn to stare at me. “No. Way. You did NOT just pull out a reference to Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure. Dude. That is so lame!”
“Is not. It is totally appropriate here. Admit it. You’re thinking it now too. HA!”
It was then that we saw the copulating cars separate and move out of my way.
“Well, Johnny, it’s been fun. Stay cool!” And in the lameness of the moment we high-fived.
The moral of the story? Seriously? You think anything that pulls a quote from Bill & Ted has a moral? Not even.
But the Slurpee was kind of good.
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Posted by Jenn @
4:22 pm | |
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Shadow of Doooooooom
December 5, 2005
For as long as I can remember, I have suffered from insomnia. (Unlike the insanity in which not only do I not suffer from it, but I enjoy every moment of.) So, for me to say I’m going to bed that usually means I will hit the pillow about 45 minutes or so from then. Even then, I will most likely still be awake for at least an hour. Most nights I will read or write. Generally something non-disturbing to my slumber-loving husband. When he says he is going to bed, he is usually catching some serious Zs within moments. All things being equal. Unless of course you introduce the A-B theory.
The A-B theory pretty much involves A (me) annoying the every loving crap out of B (him).
Case in point: An hour after announcing I was going to bed, I actually made it to bed. He had just crawled under the covers and closed his eyes ready to sleep. (Silly, silly man!) In my defense, I had every initial intention of just reading. With my book light. But then the giggles hit.
“Clint. Hey, Clint look!”
I begin to do that thing where you hold a flashlight up to the ceiling and then take your hand and slowly cover it as if the Shadow of Doom is descending upon your room. Sound effects extra.
“Yeah, cool.”
“Hey! You didn’t even look! LOOK!”
“I’m tired. I don’t want to”, but he still pops one eye half open.
Eagerly, I begin again with the Shadow of Doom (complete with the spooky ghost-like sounds effects.)
Both eyes pop open as he raises up on an elbow and stares at me.
And stares.
“What?! Come on now, Clint. No one can resist the thrill of The Shadow of Dooooooooom!”
*stare*
“Tomorrow, I am totally going to show you how when I shine a flashlight on my hand you can see the blood vessels and bones of my hand.”
“Shut up.”
“Pfffft! You used to be fun.”
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10:32 pm | |
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