Friday, February 15, 2008
I have two really great friends. They are always by my side. They constantly tell me how great I am, and never notice if I'm showered--or even dressed for that matter. And they must think I'm a terrific cook because they really love whatever I am eating. I know this because they nudge my arm to knock it off of my fork. Over the past few months, they have taught me that I have to play often--at the park. They are park addicts I tell you. We have to spell the words "d-o-g p-a-r-k" in the house, because the second they hear those two words together, they are at the door waiting to jump in the car. I took some shots today while there--to show you what it's all about.
The kids gave my husband and I some adorable cards for Valentine's Day. They take it so seriously that I have to pinch myself to remind me how lucky I am. The hubster came home--late--for a change, and pulled our cards out of a white drugstore bag and handed out them out. The youngest's had a picture of a ferret on the front--which is great cause she wants a pet rat in the worst way and we will not back down on our standards to get her one, and the oldest has a puppy on hers, which is great, cause it was just a little over a year ago, that she looked at her father and I with teeny tiny Ginger in her hands and said, "please, daddy" (note that Ginger is now 80 pounds). She is our dog lover! My card is beautiful, it is embroidered with the word 'love' across it. Which is sweet, cause I love anything that is sewn, and the sentiment was beautiful--he even added his own words to personalize the message. But something was missing. When I was a kid, Valentine's Day was something almost like Easter. I would wake up, and find surprises at the end of my bed or on the floor in my room, etc. I do the same for my kids. When they sat at the table for homework yesterday, I had on the table a four-pack of Stewart's root beer (their favorite which I hardly every buy cause it is soda and they seem to think they have to guzzle every bottle within an hour), and a box of Little Debbie's (again, which I hardly ever buy cause they seem think they have to eat all 12 in one sitting). They were thrilled!! It was so wonderful to see their faces and to watch them drink the whole 4 pack in 15 minutes. The empty bottles are still in my sink waiting to be brought out the recycling bin. At this point in my life, I send surprises to my parents for the big holiday. I sent them a box of chocolate covered strawberries. How wonderful that I can do that for them. I love being able to return at least a portion of the surprises they gave me when I was a kid. Of course I'll never measure up, but I'm passing the love on to my kids. So, at this age, I realize that in fact, nothing was missing. I am able to give the girls the same Eastery feeling that my parents gave me as a kid. I'll never forget the Valentine's morning that I woke up and there was a cute little pink flamingo hanging from the pull string on the ceiling fan in my bedroom. I was 16. I remember it like it was yesterday and will always hold it dearly.
Thursday, February 14, 2008
This just cracks me up, and I must share it. I was doing a little online browsing for the upcoming seasons' new bathing suit, and I could not get over how much this models' body looks like mine. A few years ago, I pinky promised my right hand with my left hand that from that moment on, I would only wear the 'skirtini' suit. It hides EVERYTHING, and I feel comfortable enough to spend the day at the pool with the kids and actually swim too, if I want. The only thing they are missing is an UNDERWIRE!! Why do designers think that my boobs can fit in a shelf bra? What is that all about? However, if you are the SLIGHTEST bit concerned about how you look in a suit, this is the style for you. I can play volleyball in it (if I wanted to, and if it were made with an underwire to accomodate DD's), chat with the ladies, comfortably walk the entire length of the pool to the snack bar--without once picking my suit out of my butt, dress it up with heels (if I wanted to), wear matching jewelry like the model is sporting (if I wanted to), dance (I sometimes do this even though I sure miss the underwire), do laps (if I wanted to--but I'd have to stick the shelf bra back under my boobs BEFORE I get out of the water), dive off of the high dive (if I wanted to, cause these suits don't come with underwires), slide down the water slide (I actually do). And the best part of all is that I really don't have to suffer from razor burn anymore, cause nobody can see what is under the skirt except for little kids wearing goggles while I'm in the pool. And, frankly, if they are that close to me it is only because I stayed in after the whistle blew for all the kids to jump back in the water and that rarely happens anymore as my kids do their own thing in the pool--at least they did last summer. Soooooo, with all that being said, I'm still chuckling to myself. Okay, so her body does not look exactly like mine, I'm a bit shapelier and definitely much, much whiter. In fact, I'm so white that I'm blue. Which happens every winter. You can see a lot of veins, whiteness and long black hair on my legs. Which reminds me. Buy your razors now, ladies. After February all the razors in pink, lilac and peach drastically increase in price for 'vacation' season. This happens even if you are not going on vacation. If you rush out now, I'm sure Target still has some left at a decent price. If you wait a minute longer, they will be $10 a 3-pack for your basic ladies disposable.
This is strictly for Jules a lifelong friend of mine
who asked me to add some words to my blog. Here are the words. I love this phone!! It's totally new made to look old. The receiver has some substantial weight to it too. The bad part about this phone is that when I talk on it, I feel as though I may have well be in a phone booth. I feel like I'm tied to the wall when I use it. I'm a multitasker, so the cordless is really a way of life for me. Without it, I'd get nothing done. And, I don't need anymore else donothingness in my life.