Why is it....

cyclists can't just put on clothes and go for a ride?  Why do they have to put on ridiculous clothes and get together with 19 of their closest friends, like some kind of parade for anorexic clowns??

New York, New York

So we were in New York City over spring break, walking through Times Square, which is really fun the first time.  The first time it's lights, and excitement, and oh my god look over there!  After that it's just way too many fucking people between you and your hotel.  And there's scaffolding everywhere making the sidewalks even smaller, and guys trying to hand you things and, oh my god, are you really going to stop right there and have a conversation? Idiots! I turned into a true New Yorker in one day, grumbling and snarling at everyone.

Well, kinda.  Definitely not the day we were heading back to the hotel and there was this guy leaning against a store front smoking.  As we got just about even with him, he threw his cigarette across the sidewalk onto the grating.

John, "If we were back home, we'd have glared at him."
Me, "I know, but instead I'm just glad he didn't hit me with it."
John, "I know."
Me, "It was really close."
John, "Just keep walking."

Maybe we're built more for suburbia....

The Book Challenge Continues

"A Book That Scares You"

Didn't really know where to start with this one so I googled 'scariest books for 2014' and found "Horrorstor: A Novel" by Grady Hendrix.  I didn't find it scary but it was a very entertaining read.  It takes place in an IKEA ripoff store.  I tried to explain it to the boys when they asked why I was laughing, unfortunately they hadn't been in an IKEA store since they were 5 and you just can't appreciate it from the on-line photos.

Next, I googled 'scariest books of all time' and found "Hell House" by Richard Matheson.  It is considered the mother of all haunted house stories.  Unfortunately it was written in 1971 and the last 43 years have done a lot of desensitizing to the modern day horror fan.  It is definitely a classic but that category requires the book to be 100 years old.  I was bummed that my second Scary Book wasn't going to count for anything until I got to the final page and discover that the story ends on Christmas Eve.  Or Day.  I don't remember but regardless I was able to check off "A Book set during Christmas"

I don't really remember how I stumbled across book #3 but I'm sure it involved googling of some sort.  It was "The Troop" by Nick Cutter.  It wasn't entirely a 'scary' book but it was truly horrifying.  John and the boys could tell when I was reading it because of all the squirming and face scrunching.  I think I was covering my eyes at one point.  I'm sure I was quite the sight at the gym as well. Up on the elliptical, eyes half closed, reading with only my peripheral vision.

I was sitting on the couch today reading the climactic ending when Alice walked into the room.  She's rather small and her nails don't click-clack on the floor like Abbeys so I didn't notice her.  Not until she came over beside me and gave me a nose-boop on the leg.  I screamed.

Me, "AAAAAHHHHHHH'
Alice, <jumps, all four feet off the ground>
Me, "Alice, you scared the shit out of me!"
Alice, <farts>
You know how some dogs will pee on the floor when they are scared? She silently farts. Just a pfft and it hits you a few seconds later.
Me, "Oh my god, Alice!!"
Alice, <farts again>
Me, "Holy shit!!"

This challenge is killing me.

Spring is Here

And it's mocking me.

This is our fourth spring in Northern California.  When we moved here, I planted irises in the back yard.  All purple because I don't like the white ones and I really don't like the yellow ones.  Mini ones, if I remember correctly.  They've never bloomed.  All I get are green stalks and leaves.  No flowers.  Ever.  

Except for this one single flower, sticking up like a sweet little 'fuck you'. If you listen closely, you can hear it laughing.

And it's all sickly looking to boot....

He's a Keeper

Do you have favorite books from your childhood?  I hope you do.  Ones that stick out in my mind are, of course, Nancy Drew, Trixie Belden, and From the Mixed Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler.  But the one that I remember most is The Wednesday Witch by Ruth Chew.  I've looked for a copy in used books stores over the years but without any luck.  I finally broke down and ordered a copy online but it arrived with a different cover than the one that I remembered. The story and illustrations were the same but the cover just didn't ring true.

Well, unbeknownst to me, John had been trying to track down a copy with the original cover.  Through the glories of the internet, he got ahold of the lady who manages Ruth Chew's website.  She was in Singapore. She didn't have any copies but gave him contact information for Eve Sprunt, Ruth's daughter, who just happened to live 10 minutes from our house.  John arranged for us to go over this morning and talk to her and see a bunch of Ruth's artwork, and I was able to buy an original hard backed copy of The Wednesday Witch.  It was the last autographed copy she had.

Betty and Bernie are Eve's aunt and uncle.  Isn't it funny how everyone has an aunt betty.

It's my prized procession.  I'm calling Lloyd's of London on Monday. 

So I pulled a muscle in my back

Not sure how. Everything seemed fine and then suddenly everything wasn't so fine.  I remember breathing, and sitting, and drinking a diet coke.  Headline: Woman injures back in freak sitting-breathing-diet coke related accident. Could you be next?"

John and I used to pull out our backs all the time when the boys were little.  All the low back strain from lifting and carrying babies in buckets.  This was new.  It was localized around my right shoulder blade.  It helped to reach over with my left hand and press down on the spot but that was causing my bra to ride up and creating additional underwire problems which couldn't be solved while sitting in the school parking lot.  Not without involving the police. And we mostly didn't want to involve the police. Only a small part of me wanted to involve the police. The part that thought he might drive us all home.

Once we got home, the boys kicked into Survival Mode.  Bless their little hearts.  They got their homework done, took care of the dogs, made dinner, kept the fighting down to a minimum. Even got an ice pack for me. Unfortunately, they also kept trying to hug me.  Yes, I love you too. Now please stop.

The only comfortable position I could find was laying flat on my back on the bed.  Which actually worked out well because I'd be contemplating repainting the bedroom ceiling with a reproduction of the Sistine Chapel and now I had an opportunity to plan the project down to the smallest detail.  Sigh.    And, boy, is there a lot of bad t.v. out there.  Cruel Intentions 3? Deepak Chopra: The Future of God?  Whatever happened to that channel that showed Law and Order reruns all day? Double Sigh. After a few hours, I realized that the ice pack had been leaking and there was a huge water spot under me.  Great, now I've wet the bed.

I found some questionably acquired pain pills in the bathroom.  To think, I made it all the way through college without taking unmarked pills found in a plastic baggie. Yet here I am.  It would have less dangerous back then. What's the worst that could have happened?  A revoked drivers license?  An unplanned pregnancy? Oh, please.  Look at me now.  I'm laying here with severely decreased inhibitions and access to KateSpade.com  This could end in disaster......

Alice ran away again....

I'm starting to get used to it.  I didn't even get off the couch this time.

The boys were unloading groceries from the car and left the front door open.  In their defense, if Alice hadn't broken the garage door, the car would have been parked in the garage instead of the driveway and boys wouldn't be using the front door so really this is her fault.

After about 10 minutes, John noticed that the door was opened.  Abbey was laying on the floor in the sun room, sound asleep, because she's a good girl.  Oh, yes, she is. Yessheis!  Alice was nowhere to be found.

John hollered at the boys to get their shoes on and go find the dog.  Who, by the way, doesn't have any tags on her collar because she went into the backyard one day in December and came back inside without a collar.  "Where's your collar?" "What happened to your collar?"  "How did you even get it off?"  nothing.  Dog completely ignored me.  (But she did get a brand new collar; maybe I should try this tactic with my car...hmmm...) In February, the collar turned up, missing the tags. It laid on the back step for something like two weeks because I'm not playing these games, dog!

Before I got up off the couch, the boys returned, carrying the dog.  Wow, that didn't take long.
Tom, "She was coming up the driveway."
Me & John, "She came back!"

Later that night,
Me, "You know, I think she came back because she knows this is her home and she's safe here and this is where she belongs."
John, "She was probably hungry."
Me, "Well, that works too."