splish

damp
Originally uploaded by Somebody's Mom.

Nice day to cruise the creek with my

new camera and my family at my side.

Today.

Today I am thankful, as everyday.

I have a wonderful loving family, an incredible son, a great home in a lovely town, my health, good friends, and everything I truly need. I can step outside and revel in the beauty, filling my body with crisp air.

One little part of my heart just can't let go and be free to soar on the winds of my good fortune. Damn war. Damn president. Damn greed, corruption and sleaze. Damn.

While I'm looking forward to some damn good pie, I'd really prefer a bottomless cup of peace and goodness. I hope that someday you will join me as we celebrate that true feast.

...and another thing...

Saturday. A birthday party for a six year old. So, my son is bouncing in the bounce house. I wander over there to see how it's going. I'm standing next to one of the net windows and some little girl, about 8, bounces over. She stops bouncing, puts her hand on her hip, glares at me, and says, "What're YOU lookin' at?" in a totally snotty voice. I was totally taken aback. Why would this little girl be so rude to a friendly, smiling stranger? And I, unprepared, did not answer in a nice mommy way. Instead of saying, "Excuse me, would you like to try asking a little nicer?" or "I'm sorry, but did you know that's not a very polite way of asking?" I just responded with the first thing that came to mind, which, unfortunately, was, "My son. You got a problem with that?" issued with a snide but amused look down my nose. She froze for a second, gave me a nonplussed glance and bounced away.

Hangover Helper?

No, I haven't been drinking. I'm recovering from Consumer Sunday. I shopped. I got a new bed for our son, a coffee-maker, two lamps, and some miscellaneous crap. I thought I was gonna keel over from the sensory overload of it all. Lights and noise and idiots and ads. Everywhere. Are there really people who shop all the freaking time? How do they do it? No, no, no, WHY do they do it? Do they really need more CRAP?

Just getting it home (thanks, Dad!), assembling it all (thanks, Pootie-Pie!), recycling all the boxes, disposing of all the resulting trash... dang, it's a lot of work! Especially when it's on top of a day of dealing with stupid selfish shitheads in a stupid goldurn mall who 1) can't drive and 2) are buying so much ridiculous unnecessary poorly made consumer victim crap it makes me cringe and wonder if evolution has shifted into Reverse. And, speaking of reverse, if you're gonna haul all your new crap home in a giant, polluting, death-on-wheels, road-blocking machine of doom and destruction, LEARN TO F'ING DRIVE.

Thank you.

And, umm, perhaps next time I won't test drive the new coffee maker quite so much before posting.

Fly like an eagle, little man

The training wheels came off our son's bike the other day. "Dad just took 'em off and I got on my bike and rode away!" My husband notes that he heard the phrase "I can do it, I can do it..." being repeated softly during the entire bike riding session. Hubby says he told his son, "Well, actually, you already have done it!" "I know," came the reply, "I'm just givin' myself a little encouragement!"

don't tell my mom...

I went to a sex party. No, they weren't selling sex, they were selling sex toys, lotions, potions, lingerie, basically anything you'd need to have sex. Oh, wait! I already HAVE everything I need to have sex! It was included in the package at birth. Sure, it was many years before I opened the package, but I was relieved to eventually discover it was all there.

Imagine my surprise to learn from my friend, the Romance Consultant, that I've been doing it wrong. It seems to have worked so far, but apparently my hubby and I are missing out on thrills that could be ours for a mere couple of hundred bucks. Sigh.

I've pondered this. Ya know, I didn't use the disposable diapers that felt "most like cloth." I used cloth diapers. I don't buy the foods that are advertised as tasting "most like homemade." I just make the food at home. So I guess I just don't see the need for something "made with exquisite Virtual Touch CyberSkin!" when, well, the real thing's already reclined on the sofa with no batteries needed, no additional shipping fees, and no delay if UPS goes on strike again.

My one request for those of you buying these things... please remember your mother. Mother Earth, of course. Use rechargeable batteries and be sure to recycle the plastic packaging.

I still don't know...

... how it happened.
I can't believe he's our president.

I'm sorry. And I'm not alone.

See?

In the words of Twisted Sister, we're not gonna take it anymore.

okay, I admit it, I like it

I like the gym. I wanted to hate it. I dragged my lazy ass in there prepared to hate it. It's brand new and fancy and looks like it belongs in Orange County. I hate Orange County. I only went because Jack LaLanne told me to. It was his 90th birthday and he lives near here and they interviewed him on the news. And he basically said, "Get off your ass or die." So I sashayed my hippie ass down to the emerald city, parked my economy car among the BMW SUVs and mini-vans, and took the plunge. I wanted that brand spankin' new pool and maybe the other stuff.

And, well, it's pretty damn nice. The pool rocks. The spa is nice. The machines are clean. They give you warm towels. And it's almost all old ladies when I go. Friendly hilarious old ladies.

I'm getting stronger and I don't hate it. And it's near Trader Joe's, so I get my shopping done without complaining about driving out there. Go figger.

Funny side note: I bring my headphones and plug them in on the cardio machines so I can hear the tvs. I use the little heart monitor thingy every now and then. When they talk about fucknut George or his insane war, or when I watch Faux News, my heart rate goes up. When I choose a different channel, it goes back down.

We're in for a nutty time.

I've decided to take it out on you. Sorry, but I expect the next four years to be rough, and with George as president, I'm too afraid to spend my money on therapy in case I need it to flee the country. But this blog is free and accessible around the world!

Join me on the wild ride that is my life.
I bid you peas.