Milk Breath and Margaritas

BlogHer?

2008-07-18T06:00:00.000-07:00

So, why am I not at BlogHer and why is it kinda sorta OK with me not to be there this year?

First, I'm clueless. As a new blogger, I didn't know what BlogHer really was until May.

Then, it took me until June to realize that the entire North American continent of women bloggers attend BlogHer. Well, damn. Nearly everyone goes? Really? (joiners...)

Still, I thought, "I'm not nearly a big enough Blogger to go to something like that."

And then she said, "What? Of course you are! Maybe next year we'll room together!"

And now I know more stuff about BlogHer, thanks to the attendees ~~gloating~~ posting about it: there are parties, swag bags from corporate sponsors, massages and mani-pedis, parties. And parties.

But, no last minute plane reservation for me. See, we were at the beach in May with the kids, P and I were in Boston twice in June, and in the next 5 weeks I'll travel out West two times to get me some Rocky Mountain highs in this place.

Images courtesy of RockyMountainNationalPark.com

That's a lot of travel folks. A weekend in San Fransisco, a city I just love, doesn't fit. (Even though there are two hundred and eighty six and one half bloggers I'd love to meet!)

But next year's BlogHer better be in a rockin' locale, cause social ineptitude and subscriber counts be damned, I'm coming!

I'm thinking this post will echo off the blogosphere like none other as all the bloggers are in San Fran, wasted already and not checking Reader (cause why would they??).

If you're here reading this, you must be sitting this one out like me.

So what's your excuse?

Edited to add: Check out BlogHerNot'08!!

Today: The First Day of the Rest of Your Life

2008-07-17T06:44:00.000-07:00

Mr. P and I were talking not long ago about something related to retirement. It was a passing conversation, not a big discussion.

He mentioned my eventual retirement from the company I work for, where I've been for 10 years, and blah blah about my pension benefits and retirement account.

I walked away thinking, "Oh wow. Another 20 or so years and then I retire. Another 20 years... Can I do that?"

I mean, I know this is "the plan" and has been for some time. Yet, I felt a little upset.

Let me clarify: I love my workplace. I've been there for 10 years and have never dreaded going to work (and that is saying a lot). Ten years sounds like a long time to people today, many of whom change jobs so frequently, but it's gone by so quickly! I have no desire to leave.

But looking up ahead at the real possibility that I won't do anything else sort of crushed my spirit.

It's like a romantic relationship in a way. Once you've invested so much time and have built up a level security and comfort (i.e., retirement funds and a nice salary), it gets harder and feels riskier to think of walking away from it, even if it might not be what your gut tells you is right for you. Will you be jumping from the frying pan into the fire?

So, I've had to ask myself, "What do you really want to do ~~when you grow up~~?"

I don't have an answer yet.

I do know that I'm doing what I want to do right now. I'm happy and have no intention whatsoever of leaving my super awesome job.

But I see myself, when my kids are older, wanting and needing something -- more. Something different. A new kind of challenge.

As a child I wanted to be a veterinarian. Then in grade school I wanted to be a lawyer (I know - we all have a lawyer phase! Mine was totally inspired by Susan Dey's Grace Van Owen on LA Law). Then as a teen I wanted to be an actress and a dancer. Then as a young mom in college I wanted to be a professor.

Then I became a ~~trophy wife~~ woman with a nice career in research and publishing.

And for now, that's a fine progression.

And for later, we'll just have to see.

I'd really like to know:

What did you want to be?

What did you become?

What have you yet to fulfill?

Nearly Wordless Wednesday - Angel Fluff

2008-07-16T06:03:00.000-07:00

His first haircut. I waited as long as I could. That soft angel fluff brushing his chubby neck; how many times a day did I bury my nose there?

Some of you know exactly what I mean.

And I remember having a baby boy a few years back transformed into a little boy by a few small snips. I was sad about this milestone for my Bear.

He was not convinced himself that this was a good plan.

He remained concerned, but allowed it to continue.

When he decided he'd had enough, he received his first sucker. After that we could have shaved his head. He was all about the sucker.

And here is my little boy! And his hair still smells like it's fresh from Heaven.

And he does look a wee bit older.

They say the curls are usually gone after that first cut.

But look:

Bear's curls are undaunted by our attempts to shear them!

(Insert Mommy's big smile right here!)

Mommy Bloggers / Organization Expertz Needed

2008-07-14T13:33:00.000-07:00

So, we cleaned this weekend.

I scrubbed ~~at the dirtiest patches of~~ my kitchen floor. I cleaned all four bathrooms, no cheating. (Note: Having a house with 4 freakin' bathrooms guarantees you two things: a place to pee near where ever you are in that house, and the inability to find reliable cleaning people to clean them for you.)

Mr. P did all sorts of things too. Laundry, picking up toys, cleaning up Shark's room, picking up toys, etc... Did I mention the toys?

As he was cleaning out the pantry, asking me when this and that ~~fossilizes~~ expires, he suggested that I do something "worthwhile" with my blog and ask other moms how they organize their pantries.

(Ouch. In answer to the question in your head right now: I was embarrassed by the blog remark. And it would have been unbelievable to say that I was about to use the blog for advice on the ear tube thing, so I didn't. It's fine though. I know he just adores Milk Breath and Margaritas. Clearly. A-dores it.)

He is right in thinking that Mommy bloggers must be a goldmine of clever ideas for organizing things.

So, I want to hear some of the things you do to keep the pantry organized, straightened, and purged of old stuff.

And how you keep clutter under control.

And how you keep toys organized.

Cause we need help people. Lots and lots of help.

Do your part to prove the value of blogging - comment!!

Help Us Decide! Ear Tubes

2008-07-14T06:53:00.000-07:00

Honey Bear (18 months) has chronic ear infections. He's had 6 (maybe 7) in the last 11 months.

My other two kids had ear infections too, along the lines of one or two per year. In a bad year, maybe three. I never had my other babies in the doctors office as often as The Bear has been. We take him to the doctor before leaving on a trip just to have his ears checked, so we can take his antibiotic with us if he needs it.

The pediatrician said it is time to consider tubes and last week we saw the Ear Tube Doctor. I know tubes are not all that big a deal. But, Bear has no problems with balance, hearing, or speech. When his ears get infected, his appetite falls off a bit (a HUGE sign something is wrong with Bear), he's a bit cranky, and his nose runs. But he sleeps just fine and is generally good.

The Ear Tube Doctor said it's up to us to decide, since he's not suffering any damage, just basically the inconvenience of how often they recur. He'll outgrow this on his own (and that could happen next month or next year).

I know a lot of you have probably done ear tubes. Help me! If his speech or balance were being affected, clearly the Ear Tube Doctor makes some money here. But he's actually fine, they just come back so frequently. The thought of any type of anesthesia when not strictly necessary makes us nervous.

Please give us a little insight here. Would you recommend tubes, or let him outgrow this?

(Additional note: the doctor said there is no concern about him cycling through a bunch of different antibiotics because the dosages are not enough for him to become immune to them. And his symptoms disappear very quickly - within two doses of the medicine - so it's very far from being days of misery for the little guy. If it were, obviously we'd do the tubes.)

Wife Swap

2008-07-11T07:13:00.000-07:00

I mentioned last week that ABC inquired about my interest in being on their TV show Wife Swap, and I was surprised at how many people were like, "Well? Are you doing Wife Swap??"

Three Reasons I Should Do It:
1. I suspect P would really appreciate me when I got back home, even my shortage of cooking, cleaning, remembering stuff, and general lackadaisical nature. It would not be hard to stick him with someone who'd drive him insane. Basically, anyone besides Reese Witherspoon.
2. They told me I don't have to have sex with the other guy. (The hell? I had just assumed that, thankyouverymuch.)
3. OH THE BLOG FODDER! Humiliation and life upheaval on national television. Damn fine fun, people, damn fine.

Three Reasons I Should Not Do It:
1. $20,000? They can't afford me.
2. If P's other wife was even half-way decent looking it would make me insane and the real fireworks would start when I had to rip off her head for looking in his direction and wanting to violate ~~him~~ the no sex rule.
on the other hand...
3. He, I predict, would be so unhappy without me he would be insufferable to live with and he'd make her so freaking miserable and frustrated she'd stab him and go to jail.

(As soon as you've typed the words "I don't have to have sex with the other guy" you know something has gone terribly, terribly wrong with your efforts to feed the blog.)

(But not as wrong as "I have to have sex with the other guy.")

Wife Swap wants an assload of personal information. All your basics: are you married? to each other? kids? pets? occupations? bikinis or thongs? organic or mutated? one lump or two? leprechauns or gnomes?

Who takes care of ~~spending a frazillion dollars on sitters, day care, and summer camp~~ Childcare, Shopping (wait, there's shopping involved?), Cleaning (what, like the house?), ~~re-heating~~ Cooking, and ~~THE POWER~~ Money.

Who wears the pants and why? He wears pants and he can have them because I need lovely dresses for my FIERCE shoes.

What makes my family unique? I'll go with "We consume great quantities of fish oil."

Does religion or alternative lifestyles/practices play a part in my family's life? So, they lump religion with alt lifestyles huh? I forget, living in the Bible Belt where "Where do y'all go to church?" is in the top 5 opening questions when you meet a new person, that for many, religion actually is an alternative lifestyle. For us there is no alternative about it though. We are Catholic and lovin' every minute of it, baby! We even go to Mass when on vacation. (Ha. That's probably unique.)

So maybe this will work for them: I do not see inherent conflict between creation and evolution or between religious practice and use of sex toys.

What pushes my buttons? Only Mr. P is allowed to push them. Heh.

How am I different from when I was in high school? My dreams ~~died~~ changed. I have stretch marks. I know stuff now. I own appliances.

Is there any feuding in my immediate or extended family? Um, does passive-aggressive count? Does totally passive count? Cause, I'm all about the unspoken, non-confrontational, keeping it in like a ticking time bomb. Until I scream and then melt into a puddle of self-loathing and helplessness. Good times.

Have I ever been in therapy? HAHAHAHA!! Have you seen the previous question? Have you seen my blog? Dudes, that's just a fraction of the stuff I can write about on the Internetz!

Past felonies? Run-in's with Family Services? Ever been in jail? Current restraining orders? (What do you think they're looking for here - yeses or nos?)

I think we're too ~~boring~~ normal for Wife Swap. I've never watched it, but looking at the web site this week, the current participants are a family of magicians and a family of OCD neat freaks. And they are looking for someone who is a pole dancer/exotic dancer. (How'd ya like to be the wife whose husband gets her.) If you don't have a sliver of desire to watch a TV show, you probably don't need to be on it.

So I decline ~~dragging my family through instigated melodrama so I have something to write about~~ Wife Swap.

Shows I would TOTALLY be on: Scrubs, Desperate Housewives (cause they are older, like me, so I'd fit right in), Dirty Jobs, Project Runway (as a judge), and, if it were still on, The West Wing. I would so rock The West Wing.

So tell me - would you consider Wife Swap? What shows would you love a guest appearance on?

Oh and - she's NOT wearing any of my shoes. And she totally would try.

Wordless Wednesday - Peek A Boo!

2008-07-09T09:01:00.000-07:00

Prepare to die of the cuteness. Click -- Honey Bear at 17 months.
By Jessi Walton Photography.
Photographed at Vanderbilt University, Nashville, TN.

More Wordless Wednesday from around the blogosphere.

I Cheated on The Man with The Other Man

2008-07-06T15:20:00.000-07:00

The Man - Manolo Blahnik, here featured in National Geographic for his works of art.

"Yes, only a shoe, but if I provide escape for the woman who wears it, if for only a few minutes, it brings a bit of happiness to someone, well, then, perhaps, it is something more than a shoe."

A new pair of Manolos was my birthday gift of extreme happiness from P this year. We arrived at Neiman Marcus and we circled the tables, looking at rows of Manolos. P suggested a pair he liked and I picked up a few more to try.

It happened while the sales girl was in the back fetching shoes in my size. I continued to walk around (shoes by Christian Dior, Chanel, Yves Saint Laurent, - O.M.G.) and came to the table of shoes by...

The Other Man. And just like that, I cheated on Manolo.

Christian Louboutin, with his iconic red soles and skyscraper heels, stole me away.

"Owning his shoes is just a wonderful wink for a woman." -- Diane von Furstenberg

And an expensive wink, P might add. They are like jewels. They are the shoes you leave in your will to the women you like best.

"I'm not thinking of a specific person or catwalk. I'm just not thinking of clothes at all. I'm always thinking of a naked woman, actually."

Now, how can you not feel sexy when this amazing Parisian fellow designed your shoes while thinking of you naked?

Each pair is totally handmade. In Paris. And mine are comfortable. (And I would wear them even if they were little gilded torture chambers.)

You can't even tell how high this heel is in the photo. About 5 inches, which is another reason you are never not aware that you are wearing them.

So, here is the newest addition to my ~~addiction~~ art collection. What do you think??

PS:
To see a nice array of Louboutin's, click here.

And here is video of Oprah's segment about Louboutin. When they are interviewing him and showing some of the shoes, look for the pair with the peacock feather heel. Oh they make me weep!! And when the models come out, the pair with the giant bows is amazing.

PSS:

I will be posting on the Wife Swap thing!

You Wanna Know How Bad It Is?

2008-07-03T06:00:00.000-07:00

Well lemme tell ya.

It's SO bad, I read everything in my Reader (oh yes I did) and then kept going back yesterday over and over, looking to see if someone, anyone, had posted something new.

It's not like I have nothing to write myself. Oh no. I owe probably four posts/articles to various people right now. I compose the start of some really good things in my head and sometimes even manage to jot a note on a napkin, but by the time I get to a computer it has evaporated from my mind or I've wiped a snotty nose with the note.

I have lots of work (my actual day job) stuff to write too, including a piece of fiction that I'd be very excited about working on if it weren't for...

I don't feel well. Nose drips. Sneezes. Sore throat. Dry eyes. Stupid doctor's office not calling me back.

Dinner tonight: slice of frozen pizza, peanut butter right from the jar, a Claritin, and a vodka tonic. (Don't worry. I fed the kids something else.)

I got the most interesting offer yet this month - feelers from ABC to see if I would be interested in being on their TV show Wife Swap. Did they blast the whole mommy blogger world or somehow single me out? Anyone else get this offer? I hope we all got it so I don't have to wonder any more why on earth my blog set off their Google alert.

Even though I can't get much out of my brain at the moment, I really do love blogging. Sometimes I question it like her. And sometimes I just love and appreciate it completely like her.

playgroupie just twittered using the word "sporked" in a sentence and I smiled when it came up on my phone. this would never have happened without blogging. a cool new word and a smile when i feel like crap.

I vacillate between wanting to be good at blogging and just using the blog as a giant public dumping ground for my innermost "i am completely losing my shit" moments and, you know, memories of the kids. What a lovely combo.

What I really need to do is post a picture of my new shoes. That's about what I'm capable of this week. The shoes are so amazing, they are probably better than anything else I could come up with anyway.

Shoes. Coming up.

Wordless Wednesday - Outside

2008-07-02T07:38:00.000-07:00

Edit: This is my baby boy. It isn't a girl (he is a really pretty baby).
I know I know - he needs his precious angel fluff cut. Ahh - how can I do that?

Click here to participate in Wordless Wednesday or see who else does.

My Wordless Wednesday Archives:

A Boy and His Dog
Parenting
Parenting Tip (Teens)
Crop Circles
Ocean
Flutter
Hanging In My Crib
Sam
We can skip the one of me first thing in the morning.
Sugar and Shark
Chubber
Willow Wakes Up
The Beach
About Disney
Who's in the Middle Again?

Well that's enough of that. I thought it would be fun to see the whole list but it's too much linking!
Happy Wednesday Everyone!!

At Sea

2008-06-29T06:00:00.000-07:00

I mentioned that I had thought of a really good gift for Mr. P's birthday this year.

Here it is:
A sailboat! Brilliant!

OK, I didn't actually buy the whole boat. I bought a few hours worth of the boat. I chartered it for a private sail in Newport, Rhode Island, a short trip from our hotel in Boston.

It was wonderful! He very much enjoyed it.

And now I want one. For our very own.

I'm a natural! (Ignore the very serious, sightly concerned expression. It's just the way my face falls. I'm having a blast. Really.)

See how we're heeling over? (I've already mastered the lingo.) It looks like the water is about to enter the boat, but it doesn't.

Hey sailor! Pass me a Summer Ale, please.

Um, does that BIG yacht know to move out of my way, or am I going to have to spin this thing like I'm playing Wheel of FortunePleaseDon'tLetMeDieAtSeaIHaveChildrenToRaise!?!

Newport is absolutely charming.

The boats with colored flags are former America's Cup winners.

We met a sweet furry resident named Milo.

This is Hammersmith Farm, the 28-room summer home of Jacqueline Bouvier's parents. She grew up in this quaint hut. She & JFK had their wedding reception in this backyard. (Still privately owned by some lucky schmo.)

This next house (yes, that whole thing is one house) was built by the people who brought Worcestershire sauce to America. There are about a dozen chimneys and each is shaped differently, each being the shape of a different type of Worcestershire sauce bottle neck. I thought that was very clever and lighthearted of the super rich sauce people.

Peaceful, sailing is. (uh, remarked Yoda.)

More heeling. You dizzy? Have more beer.

This lighthouse is a Bed and Breakfast on a little island. They ferry you out there and leave you. And you have to actually work the lighthouse while you're there.

Picturesque New England.

I think P liked his birthday gift, and I hope he isn't too worried about me bugging him for a sailboat. (Besides, I've got Shark Boy to sic on him about buying a boat. Heh.)

Happy Birthday (again) P. I love you!

The Green Monster Asked for ID

2008-06-27T13:01:00.000-07:00

When in Boston, there are a few things you must do, and on that list is catching a Red Sox game at Fenway Park.

We had great seats, right down close on the first base line. We got a great deal on these ~~scalped at the gate~~ completely legitimate tickets.

This is the Green Monster. Yep, it's just a giant green wall. But it's famous. Even I knew about it.

Now that I've been to Wrigley Field for a Chicago Cubs game and Fenway Park for a Red Sox game, I want to go see the New York Yankees. (Sh-hush. You canNOT mention the Yankees in Boston.)

This is Manny. P said he's their star player and I responded that he needs a haircut. P said, "You're my kind of girl."
The Sox lost, but we enjoyed our beer and sausages, and had a few laughs with the big burly Boston dudes behind us.

Speaking of beer, P got CARDED when he bought our beers. CARDED! He had to show his ID to buy beer. (I know you know what carded means, but he was carded. At 41 years old.)

Now look, I hate to go putting that in ALL CAPS like it's just so freakin' NUTS that he's getting carded in HIS 40's. But like, no one is carding me. And he looks very damn good. I know other women would love to take him off my hands. (Jealous much?)

This little incident only affirmed my suspicions that he is getting hotter and I'm getting, notter. I mean, "not hotter."

I plan to post on this injustice soon.

Wordless Wednesday - A Boy and His Dog

2008-06-25T06:00:00.000-07:00

I'll Be Back Around

2008-06-24T06:00:00.000-07:00

I am not really around here at all. Milk Breath and Margaritas is on auto-post and has been since last week.

I'm traveling with P. I hope I'm having a blast! I'll post about it, with pictures and stuff. I gave him something really awesome for his birthday and I'll have to tell you about it. It isn't a "thing," it's a memory, an experience. (I know what you're thinking, you trashy thing you! He doesn't need to have a birthday to get that, so you'll have to read the post to find out what it was.)

But anyway, I haven't been around to all your fun and sassy blogs and I'm real sorry. I'll have a frazillion posts in Reader when I come back!

Keep checking me out - I'll be back "live" on Thursday.

xoxo darlings!

The Performing Bear

2008-06-23T06:00:00.000-07:00

I walked into the kitchen the other day and P said, "Check this out. I've trained him like a circus animal."

There was Honey Bear, standing in front of his father. He would dance in a circle and then P would feed him a blueberry. Over and over.

It was hilarious. And what could I say? I use dog commands with my kids. "Sit!" "Come!" It's what happens when you have a dog first.

Yes, I'm saving for their therapy bills.

Big Boy

2008-06-20T06:00:00.000-07:00

Six years ago today, Shark Boy was born. I remember lying in my hospital bed watching Mr. P cradling our tiny boy in his strong arms and smiling the biggest smile I'd ever seen on my husband's face. And little Shark was scowling the fierest, most hilarious scowl ever seen on a person who is 2 minutes old. Baby Shark wasn't crying, but he was clearly peering out with much disapproval of his new surroundings.

That it was 6 years ago is very hard to believe.

We had a swim party with a shark theme. What else?

The invitation:

The cake:The kid:

My handsome boy. Those blue eyes with their thick fringe of long black lashes will make the girls feel faint one day. You are so smart, so tall and strong, confident and cool.

At six years old, you still sleep with Bonaire, your stuffed sea turtle. You still want to snuggle with me when you're sleepy and you hold my hand willingly when we walk along together.

Yet, despite these glimmers of a smaller boy, six is an age that is fixed determinedly in the direction of those higher numbers. What I see most in you is what you are becoming.

And I am so proud of you.

Naked Bits

2008-06-19T06:00:00.000-07:00

Shark Boy is six now and we are all still pretty comfortable with nudity in our house. But the last few times I've stepped from my bathtub when Shark Boy was fishing things from his toy bag or barging in to ask me a question, I've wondered.

So, moms of sons, what do you think? Should I never worry about it at all? Is it time to be careful? Should I have started thinking about this 2 years ago? Does it matter if I have a Brazillian?

I know you've got opinions. Let 'em rip.

More Sex Please

2008-06-17T10:17:00.000-07:00

I'm surprised. I loved Sex and the City, the movie. It was hilarious.

I'm surprised. I loved Samantha. She was wickedly funny.

I will SPOIL NEARLY EVERTHING with this post. You've been warned.

Maybe I'm a Pollyanna and I loved it because all the ends tied up neatly, with a large sparkly pink bow. In a way, there was a plain vanilla quality to the happy endings that seems to work against the grain of the whole 6 years of the TV show. But I do love happy endings.

Charlotte

Charlotte is the one who doesn't fit. I'm not convinced the other three would have really been friends with her. In the movie, she and I had this in common: fear of happiness. She is so happy and her life is so perfect that she is afraid something will happen, that something will just inevitably crash land in the middle of her sunny picnic. I'm happier than I've ever been, and I do dread what might happen to mess it all up again. So I could relate to her on that level. But really, she's just sweet and boring as ever. (I suppose that's me too. But I'm about to fix it. See Samantha below.)

Miranda

Miranda says one of the absolute worst things you could say to your man in the middle of sex. I cringed and maybe audibly gasped. She's just F-ing tired. But still. Wow. And they proceed through hell from there. But I love their ending. I love that she runs to him with the city rising behind her, but in the end she turns and doesn't look back.

Samantha

TBS apparently gutted Samantha. She was my least favorite on TV and the one I loved in the movie. I'm renting the real TV show now just to watch her. Smith, ah Smith. If Brad Pitt and a young Clint Eastwood mated, the result would be Smith. I love that he was happy with Samantha, and that she leaves him and not the other way around. She is 50 years old and God I only hope I'm that brand of 50 ~~in 9 short years~~ many years from now. I'm plotting what "next steps" to implement now in my mid-life crisis to put myself on that trajectory. Well, in terms of style and sexual appetite. I'm happily married (see Charlotte above), so the promiscuous stuff, the younger men, and the commitment-phobia are not applicable. But style and sex? Those I can have, baby.

Samantha keeps only the $60,000 "ring with diamonds," the humping dog, and her independence. Not a bad haul. Her story line also includes a smokin' hot next door neighbor, whom she valiantly resists, despite some impressive full frontal. (So there. Fandango a ticket. Now.)

Carrie

Sarah Jessica Parker needs to not let the movie people put bright red lipstick on her. She is not a pretty woman (cute, attractive, and if you like super-skinny she's got a great body, but she is not pretty) and this looked dreadful. I give her credit though, for letting the movie people allow her to look like absolute hell in the scenes in Mexico, with no make-up on and really actually looking like we might look if Mr. Big Dumb Ass dumped us at the alter.

Carrie's story highlights some reasons why I'm not a good feminist. I adored the first part of the movie, when he calls her "Baby," buys them the gorgeous apartment, hires contractors to build her the most amazing closet and helps her place the first pair of Manolos on the floor to ceiling shoe rack. And he says he just...wants...her. Wedding or no wedding, marriage or no marriage, he just wants her. However he can have her. He just wants to be with her. And he kisses her like he really means it.

He spoils her and I love that part. It's what makes a man a Mr. Big. It is THE differentiating factor between "guys" and a real man. The ability to make a woman feel special and adored and well taken care of is manly. Only a Mr. Big can do it.

Then she missed his cues, and he freaked out like a big whimpy pussy and fucked up everything. Again.

But in the end, the make-up sex was good and the shoe fit. Anti climatic perhaps, and you have to wonder if they'll really make it, but for now, ~~relief~~ happiness.

The most striking part for me personally about Carrie's story was the proposals. The first time, he suggests over dinner that they just get married. No diamond, no going down on his knee, no candlelight. Carrie even touts it as the perfect proposal because it was more business-like, simple, and not couched in archaic romanticism.

I sat there thinking that it was quite progressive and cosmopolitan of P and I (unwittingly) to have done the same thing. No diamond. No knee. No special evening out and "popping the question." Only a telephone and a sort of assumption that crept into our conversations. Who needs a formal proposal of marriage?

Then, in the movie, all the rose petals flutter to the pavement, crushed.

In the end, Mr. Big corrects this blunder. He goes down on one knee and proposes to her. He does it "right." Que Happily Ever After.

Well crap. Whatev.

The Message

Love will conquer in the end. Eventually anyway. Despite the movie's saturation with designer labels, Carrie ends up married in a plain suit with no label. They break bread as an extended family. With kids and everything. More simple, less glam.

The End.

Thanks to Blonde Mom for going with me. We had Pear Cosmos at the Bistro before movie time (yum!) and really enjoyed the movie.

Leave comments about what you loved or hated the most about Sex and the City, the movie!!

One Wild and Crazy Girl

2008-06-16T11:30:00.000-07:00

I'm going out to see Sex and the City tonight with the super awesome and expertly coiffed Blonde Mom! So I've been remembering...
********************************************

I had a friend once who was straight from Sex in the City central casting. Her name was Janet and she and I worked together. We were an unlikely pair. I was married and had a young daughter, we went to church each week, I liked to cook, we lived in a little starter home suburb.

Janet, who was about 32 at the time (4 years older than me) had been divorced 3 times and had no children. She had bleached blonde hair, big blue eyes, eye popping cleavage, and was loud-mouthed and brash. She went out every night of the week, ~~had sex with~~ dated lots of guys (including married ones), and drank most of her dinners.

Why she befriended me I never quite understood. You would think I was the absolute standardized measure of boring to her.

One day she flew into my office first thing in the morning, backed herself against a wall, legs spread, and said "Can you tell I'm not wearing any underwear?" I peered at her off-white skirt and assured her I couldn't tell. "Oh thank God. Holy f*** I never made it home last night and I don't even know where they are. Do you think Floyd (her boss) will notice I'm wearing the same dress as yesterday?"

I doubted seriously Floyd would notice.

Not that Floyd was oblivious to Janet, mind. He passed over her for a promotion once and She.Was.Livid. She asked him to stop by her office and when he did, she proceeded to pull a dildo out of her drawer, stood it up on the desk and yelled, "If I had one of these would I have gotten that job?"

She threatened to mace my boss once. He was in her face about something or other and she pulled the can out of that same drawer and told him to back off and get the f*** out of her office or she'd mace his ass.

She had balls. (You have to love that. Especially if you've ever worked in a place that is an Old Boys All Boys hold-over and had a sneaking suspicion you were hired at least in part as eye candy.)

Another time I stopped by her office as she was frantically flipping through piles of paperwork on her desk. She had opened her personal mail one day that week at work, and now she could not locate a note from her gynecologist regarding an, erm, infection of some very personal sort. She was freaking out that she had accidentally mailed it in one of our customer's statements.

Then there was the day we were going to lunch in her convertible, and as I opened the car door she said, "Oh hang on. Let me get that thing out of your way," and picked up the leather whip from the passenger seat and tossed it into the back. I didn't even ask.

She told me once that she never wanted kids. She said she'd no doubt show up at school in a leather miniskirt, with a cigarette, bleached hair, and a hangover, and the kid would be mortified to say, "That's my mom."

I think Janet sought me out because, like her, I didn't do the expected. I didn't judge her. I've no doubt she initially thought I was probably very hoity-toity and the type to look down at someone who acted out the way she did. She got to know me a little and she felt accepted by me. I did not accept all of her behavior and I questioned some things (I had to choose carefully, there was so much material), but I think she liked that I would just, well, go out to lunch with her.

Much like blogging, you see what the other person lets you see. She was showing the world things - sex toys, her panties, alcohol breath, and such - for some reason that I knew I'd never understand. And we weren't ever close enough for me to ask real questions or offer serious advice.

One day though, she asked me out of nowhere if I really loved my husband. I said of course I did. She looked at me and said, "No really. Do you really love him?" A rare serious moment.

I slowly told her that yes, I did love him, very much. "That's great," she said, looking away. "It's really great that you have that."

As I've noted before, Sex and the City can be fun. And it can be lonely and sad. (Why can't they make a movie about Sex and the Hot Marriage? I know a lot of women bloggers who would go see that.)

I'll post my skeptics movie review this week.

Reality Is Dirty and Wet

2008-06-13T06:17:00.000-07:00

If I Did Not Work Full-Time
*************************

Yesterday, on my husband's birthday, I would have pulled the gifts from my closet and wrapped them. Then, I would have made a cake from scratch and let the boys help me decorate it. I would have dusted something with lemon pledge to make the house smell clean. I would have prepared a nice, home cooked meal for dinner. And I would have showered and worn something cute, so I could greet him with bouncy hair and a fresh, smiling face. When he walked in the door after work, the table would have been set and the kids cleaned up and waiting for Dad. And the celebration would begin!

Since I Do Work Full-Time
************************

I ran to the mall at lunch because I still hadn't bought anything for the boys to give him. After work, I dashed into the grocery for a cake and when I emerged 5 minutes later the sky had opened and was pouring buckets of rain. I was running late, so I took my shoes off and walk-ran to the car. My car has been doing this thing where when I try to unlock the door the alarm goes off and it won't unlock. So I stood in the driving rain trying to get in the car. I got soaked. I raced over to pick up the baby and get home as fast as possible. I arrived just before Mr. P got home. I loaded the dish washer and put a frozen pizza in the oven. One kid was in swim trunks and one was in a romper he'd spilled something on. No time to change them though. I went to wrap the present I bought at lunch, and remembered that I left my present for him - my special present - at work. My whole spirit fell. I left it at work. I couldn't believe I did that.

I was stressed, rushed, and disorganized. My hair was still damp and starting to frizz. I looked like I needed a nap. Or a drink. I wanted him to have a really nice birthday, but I just wasn't home to make it happen.

This is when my job makes me feel like a big failure in my personal life. I'm always just squeezing things in around the edges of my work day. And losing track of how much time I have to get things done. Things that should be important, like having a real meal and a wife and kids that aren't dirty and wet to greet you on your birthday, and without some lame "Oops, I left it at work" for a gift.

I don't think P cares that much (I hope not anyway), but I do. He is the hardest person to buy for and I think he'll really like my gift. It should be a perfect gift. If it's not, I just give up.
*******************

Ironically, my new article "Finding Balance" is up at Mommy Track'd.

Every Whipstitch

2008-06-10T05:00:00.000-07:00

Every whipstitch the planets line up just so and a fun opportunity presents itself.

I spent this past weekend in the beautiful city of Boston. One of my favorite bloggers lives there, so after an e-mail or two I had a lunch date lined up with Sarah from In The Trenches of Mommyhood, one of the blogs I have been reading since forevah, and my vote for Best Mommy Blog Header EVAH. (Really - go look at her blog header.)

Meeting someone you Internet-Know IRL can be a little nerve wracking, but I was just pretty excited this time.

OK, Mr. P was with me and he can talk to anyone, right on the spot, no stress. He's the cool one and I'm the social retard.

So, with my ~~crutch~~ handsome husband in tow, I was confident about grabbing a cab to Faneuil Hall to meet Sarah for some clam chowder and Boston scrod. (Whoever thought that was a good name for a food dish?)

On a side note: I'm a wretched and indecisive packer who inevitably regrets her choices. I did have one solid insight however, going over my options in the car on the way home the night of The Great Packing. Mentally browsing my summer dresses, I placed the turquoise Lilly Pulitzer with the little green palm trees and pink birds in my suitcase. (Just mentally. I'm in the car, remember?) With a pointinelle, palest sea foam cardigan if needed. And my pearls.

Wait. (shakes head) This is Boston. I can't meet Sarah looking like I just stepped off the plantation. All I'd need is a large hat, a mint julep, and to call her "sugar" in the first 5 minutes to complete the picture. I'm actually a Yankee. So back to my roots...

Scratch Lilly Pulitzer. I packed basic black and white mix and match pieces so I wasn't all "Hey y'all! Where's the Junior League Showhouse?"

Then it was too cold for everything I brought. (So the next day I dressed a little warmer, and it was a sauna at 90 degrees. Boston, you're killing me.)

Anyway, meeting Sarah was so much fun. I found out we both gave our youngest boy the same name! Sarah is a tiny person (I felt like a large towering tree standing next to her) and she looks a lot like Diane Lane. You don't do much better than looking like Diane Lane. I used the word "whipstitch" in a sentence and she was like "whipstitch??" But she was smiling and I'm sure still thinks I'm sophisticated and that I did not at all just stumble out from between the hills in Tennessee.

Sarah and Me

Faneuil Hall

Mr. P and I demolished a walnut encrusted warm baked brie with fruit chutney.

Boston, cold and overcast, from the top of the Prudential Tower. The large green space is the gorgeous Public Garden (Make Way for Ducklings!) and Boston Common.
Mr. P and I spent time in the North End (Boston's Little Italy). Wonderful part of town - adorable, great restaurants, with pastry shops dropped from heaven. We went to Mass Sunday morning at St. Leonard's, the first Catholic Church in America founded by Italian immigrants, 1783.

Each little blue paper heart is a prayer intention. Mine was for Jenn.

One word - gelato.

Back in Nashville, this is what the wall behind the baggage claim carosel looks like.

Monday morning out and about, the first thing I saw was a large man wearing a tee shirt that said, "Paddle Faster. I hear banjo music."

Home.Sweet.Dixie.

(Thanks Sarah! I'll ring you up next time we're in town! And if you're ever in Nashville, we've got, well, a lot of Jack Daniels.)

Keepin' It Hot

2008-06-09T08:34:00.000-07:00

Mr. P and I were walking along a street in downtown Boston yesterday when he said, "Check that out," and pointed to my right.

It was an elderly couple, both with snow-white hair. They were closer to 80 than not. They were leaning on a railing overlooking a park, and he was feeling her up.

Yes. The old man was feeling her butt. On the street, in public and everything.

It wasn't an "ewww" moment. It was more like "Awww, how sweet!"

I told Mr. P I hoped that would be us when we're old. It makes me smile to think that 30 years from now, and 40 years from now, we'll be walking along in Boston, or Rome, or Bangkok, and he'll still want to give me a grope so bad it can't wait for privacy.

That's a retirement plan.

Thailand, Lonely Planet photo.

More to come on the Boston trip, including my meet up with one of my favorite bloggers!!

Stay tuned!

Out of the Closet

2008-06-08T06:00:00.000-07:00

There is a blog I read called Ashely's Closet. I have a small girl crush on Ashley cause she says stuff I would think but not think to say. And she's funny. And I'm SO sure she's pretty too, even though I've actually never seen her.

As much as I adore Ashley, Big Kid is the true source of my addiction. Click these links and see if you aren't smiling from ear to ear, or laughing until you pee, or commenting to see if she'll let you adopt him for a month.

Extravangaza

No Big Deal

Big Weekend

Just Now

Interrputed From Pantry Cleaning

A Challenge

Big Kid is just good clean fun!

And her little kid is a riot too, btw.

It's I heart Ashley Day! Click on over.

Google's My Pimp

2008-06-06T06:00:00.000-07:00

It's amazing and creepy the way Google's algorithms work. I'm a Google whore - I use Blogger (tho I curse it regularly), gmail, Google docs, Picasa, and their spreadsheet thingy too. And the Google SMS text tool that will send addresses and phone numbers to my phone. And I use Google for all search, of course. Yep, I'm pimped out with Google.

I love to look at the side bar ads that Google puts up when I'm reading e-mail. Here are some recent ones that caught my attention.

Quality Milk Snake Cages
Muscle Milk
Tummy Tuck
We Need Writers!
Freelance Writing Jobs
Tell Your Story - Publish
American Children
10 Skinny Rules
Have You Written a Book?

(Tummy tuck? Well thanks Google, you smartass. I've never even blogged about tummy tucks.)

So what did Google, Master of the Universe and Stuff, deduce about me on that particular day?

I need to write a book (emphasis here apparently) about being a skinny chick who drinks Muscle Milk and got a tummy tuck so she could dance in a cage with snakes. Moral of my story: Children of America, don't let this happen to you.

Blog Rolls Are the Sixth Circle of Hell

2008-06-05T06:00:00.000-07:00

I had a Milk Breath Blogroll. It was a terrible pain to create and it was really hard to remember to update it.

One day, I realized that I had had people in my Google Reader for months that had never been added to my blog roll.

So I took it down.

Is there an easier way? Is there some sort of widgety thing out there where you can add someone as easily as you can add to Reader?

Please tell me the bestest way to have a blog roll.

I hate not having one at all...