So there I was, pushing a shopping cart full of pumpkins, Grace in tow... when it happened. I hurt someone with my the power of my mind. Well... to be honest, I'm still not sure if it was my mind or my boobs, but either way, it was pretty cool.

I would like to make it clear that I am in no way dressed like a dirty 'ho. I am wearing a ribbed, turtleneck sweater, jeans and black boots. We're talking soccer mom here. (shudder)

So anyway... there we were, my daughter and I walking through the Halloween section, when a young man/stock boy comes walking the other direction. I notice that he is very clearly staring at my breasts. I lock my gaze on his, wondering how long it's going to take him to stop undressing me with his filthy, underage eyes. "Get a good look there, jerk-off?" I thought. Just then, he plowed straight into a costume display. I mean, he crashed, face first into a shelf of Halloween makeup, devil horns, bloody zombie masks... etc. It was hilarious! Then I realized... I hurt someone with the power of my mind... er boobs.. umm.. I'm still not sure which. But my point is, this is totally going to change my life!!

We bought a smoker last night. Yay!!! I have a pork shoulder thawing, and that baby's going on the smoker this weekend! Yummy! We're kinda insane in this house. We have a gas grill, a large Weber, a cast iron grill pan, a George Foreman, and now an offset smoker. We likey the meat.

Yesterday, I realized that Grace has in fact not been asking for "pie" but rather, asking to use the potty. (insert proud mama smile) I can't even begin to tell you how proud of that little girl I am. She is the best thing I've ever done with my life. Since she was born, everything I've ever wanted or needed has seemingly fallen into my lap/heart/life.







Now, there's something else I'd like to say. Apparently someone took offense to my last post. She mistakenly thought I was talking about her. This leads me to wonder how many other people thought I was slamming them. After all, most of my friends are drunken, superficial sluts! (J/k, please don't send me hatemail)Seriously NS, you were the last person on my mind when I wrote that. I don't know why you think I'm such an awful person, but I can't give you too much grief. I've read your blog and thought you didn't seem like such a nice person either. That's the thing, a blog is two dimensional at best. I know there is much more to you than your blog. Some very special people think that we are both pretty cool, nice women. I trust them. You can't be that bad, and I'd hope you'd feel the same way. Anyway, I'm sorry for the confusion, and I'm sorry you had such a bad day yesterday. I hope tomorrow is better. I like your blog much better when you are happy. So smile and lets' let this go.

Happy Thursday, peoples. Bee good to each other!

Be warned.. I'm in a weird mood.

Maybe it's the rain. Maybe it's the war. Maybe it's a combination of all the pointless, stupid, evil, greedy, ugly or insensitive people/things/events, that are on my mind. Maybe I'm just grumpy.

When I get like this, I really resent shallowness. It seems like everywhere I turn, I see or hear people wasting way too much energy on getting fucked up, getting laid, getting paid or staring at themselves in the mirror. It makes my soul ache for them.

You can teach a person to fish, but you can't make them empathize.

Please feel free to mock me. I can tell you want to. It's ok, it builds character. ;)

And now a word from our sponsor...

A couple months ago, I finally broke down and talked to my doctor about my insomnia. It's plagued me my entire life. I have middle insomnia, I wake up in the middle of the night and cannot get back to sleep, at least for 3 or 4 hours. Some nights, I just didn't sleep at all. I don't feel comfortable taking sleeping pills. I'm afraid that I won't wake up if my daughter cries, or even worse, I'll wake up and be loopy. Plus, the list of side effects from those things make me wonder what the point is. What good is an 8 hour coma if you feel like hell the next day? My doctor suggested I try Cymbalta, a new fangled anti-depressant. On it's list of side affects, I found a new addition to my vocabulary, "Somnolence". I spent a couple weeks nodding off, constantly yawning, and feeling like I had been drugged by some frat boy. (Let's face it, we all know frat boys are all rapists.) After about 3 weeks, I started sleeping the most glorious, wonderful, sound sleep. I smile more, I laugh more, I read alot more, I enjoy my life, much, much more.

The real reason I'm writing this, is that I want to tell you about my dreams. I have been having the most vivid, bizare, funny dreams. I often remember them too. Last night in particular, I had one that made me giggle when I woke up.

I was being interviewed by O.J. Simpson. He was wearing an outdated, pinstripe, three piece suit, a blue shirt, yellow tie and reading glasses. The office we were in, kind of felt "shrinky". I was even reclining on a leather couch. O.J. had a yellow memo pad and seemed to be writing absent mindedly.
"Why do you like pickles?" he asked.
I just gave him a weird squinty look which he exchanged for a raised eyebrow from over his reading glasses.
"Tell me about your mother." he demanded.
"She's in Bulgaria" I replied. I totally pulled that out of my ass. I guess I just wanted to see if he could tell I was lying.
Orenthal (all the cool kids call him Orenthal) kept writing on the memo pad. "Why did you kill Nicole Brown and Ronald Goldman?" he asked without even looking up from his memo pad. "Seriously?" I yelled with an indignant laugh.
He gave me that look again from over his glasses.
"Shouldn't you be playing golf somewhere?" I asked, conveying my annoyance with his unprofessional projection. Why are shrinks always doing that? They always seem to project their own issues on their patients. -Hence, the pickle question.
Orenthal gave me that icy, over the glasses, raised eyebrow look a few seconds two long, then looked down at his memo pad and wrote some more.
I could only guess what he was writing. "Subject shows, aggressive, evasive responses to questions. She is uncooperative, and is displaying anti-social tendencies." Funny stuff coming from a murderer.
"Tell me, what does a guy in Brentwood need with a ski mask anyway?" I asked, thinking I'd take him off guard. "I mean, who wears those anyway. I've never seen anyone racing down a black diamond, looking like a bank robber or psychotic killer." ....."No offense." I added after he gave me that look again.
At this point, the room felt a little tense. I could feel my face turning red as I stared at my shoes. It was the shoes that got me. Well, actually, it was my socks. I was wearing black patent leather Mary-Janes and frilly, little girl ankle socks. That's when I realized I was dressed like a Japanese school girl. No wonder Orenthal kept giving me that look. I'm a little old for this look, if you know what I mean.
I sat up and leaned on his desk, playing with my pigtails. "I have a present for you." I said smiling.
I handed Orenthal a neatly wrapped box.
He gave me that look again for a second, sighed and shook his head as he opened the gift.
"They don't fit." he said, holding up a leather glove that he had tried to stuff his arthritic fingers into.
"Of course they don't." I said with a wink.

That's when I woke up.

Cymbalta.

Better living through chemistry.

Today is my mother's birthday. I have to say, she looks amazing for her age. She's always been a beautiful woman, like her mother and her grandmother. They all aged very elegently. I can only hope that I'll be blessed with some of that good fortune. Anyway, Happy Birthday, Mom!

Last weekend we went to The Savoy Grill for my Grandparents wedding anniversary. We had a great time, and it was so wonderful to see my uncles and their kids. It was even more wonderful to see that after all this time, my Grandparents are still so very much in love. There is no mistaking the look in my Grandfather's eyes when he looks at my Grandmother. To him, she is the most beautiful, perfect woman on earth. You can just see the love in his eyes. I looked at my husband and smiled, thinking that's how we'll be, playing with our grandchildren, smiling at each other from across the room, knowing everything was exactly how it should have been. -To me, that's what life is about.

As for this week, it's been a crazy week of doctor visits and a sick dog and child. It started with Grace's hand. She woke up with a very swollen right hand, most likey from spider bites. Her doctor prescribed a strong antibiotic that in turn gave her a nasty rash and even nastier diapers. Then, the dog got sick. He had a tummy ache and the runs. Let's just say that the hubby and I spent our weekend cleaning up lots of messes. Yuck!! Finally, monday, the dog horfed up a giant mass of fabric. It seems he had eaten his blanket, or at least part of it. Silly puppy! Now he's all better and back to his plucky self. As for Grace's hand, it's still looking fairly gnarly. You know, I used to like spiders. Not so much anymore.