shake it, don't break it

this is too funny not to share. enjoy.

satisfy me

In today’s world of political correctness run amok am I crazy to like the elvis song “a little less conversation”? some women rant that the song is sexist. I think it’s sexy.

This song sounds like a real man wrote it. no flowers and doilies, no endless chatter and perfunctory romance. It’s frank and basic. It’s leather and stubble. it’s a shoulder grab and a long hard kiss…and that gets me a little bit hot.

I’m not a poetic writer. I kinda keep things to the lowest common denominator. Keep it easy to understand; you agree or disagree. That’s how I see this song. i like it. now, don’t misunderstand, I like mushy stuff, too. Romance makes my heart flutter and I get all warm and fuzzy, it’s fireside cozy and blankets. But warm and fuzzy can’t compare to hot. Warm and fuzzy is driving the speed limit and looking at the scenery. Hot is…driving a stick shift on a curving road to its limits, wheels screeching, music blaring, wind blowing and the top’s down, with a hand grazing my thigh. That’s this song.

Elvis Presley - A Little Less Conversation

A little less conversation, a little more action please
All this aggravation ain't satisfactioning me
A little more bite and a little less bark
A little less fight and a little more spark
Close your mouth and open up your heart and baby satisfy me
Satisfy me baby

Baby close your eyes and listen to the music
Drifting through a summer breeze
It's a groovy night and I can show you how to use it
Come along with me and put your mind at ease

A little less conversation, a little more action please
All this aggravation ain't satisfactioning me
A little more bite and a little less bark
A little less fight and a little more spark
Close your mouth and open up your heart and baby satisfy me
Satisfy me baby

Come on baby I'm tired of talking
Grab your coat and let's start walking
Come on, come on
Come on, come on
Come on, come on
Don't procrastinate, don't articulate
Girl it's getting late, gettin' upset waitin' around

A little less conversation, a little more action please
All this aggravation ain't satisfactioning me
A little more bite and a little less bark
A little less fight and a little more spark
Close your mouth and open up your heart and baby satisfy me
Satisfy me baby

craving wood

i’ve been flirting with the idea of taking up the guitar again. i learned how to play when i was a kid and took lessons through high school. back in the mid 80s when i was a broke newlywed, we had a garage sale to make rent…and damn it all, if i didn’t throw my guitar into the pile. looking back i wish i hadn’t, as it was a gift from my parents and a piece of my childhood.

i’m currently listening to jack johnson’s cd entitled “on and on”. it’s mellow acoustic guitar tracks has me feeling like i’m sitting on jack’s front porch, bare feet up on the wooden railing, listening to him on a lazy afternoon while we’re both sipping cold coronas.

Virtual Mystery Date

Okay, here’s a game: The virtual mystery date.

I have gotten very comfy in my cave these past four years and every once in a while I poke my head outside like a lil prairie dog
to see what’s happening in the real world. I’m not bold enough to venture out and try to actively date, but I do get a thought about it every once in a while.

So, how about if you set me up on a virtual (not real in any sense of the word) mystery date and let’s pretend. Tell me all about my date and where we go. Do I dress up for the theatre or are we going back packing in Yosemite?

I’ll go get a manicure while you think up the details.

a cup a cup a cup.....ahhhhh

Over the past several weeks I’ve caught a case of the clumsies. I’ve tripped, slipped and ripped. I broke both of my favorite coffee cups, which sent me on a shopping expedition to find just the right coffee cup: not too big or too small; one that heats nicely in the microwave and has a bit of personality.

I want to show off my new coffee cup. The quickie pic turned into a semi-photoshoot and bathroom counter clean up. Here’s the result: a bathroom still life.

Notice the cup. It looks just like a Starbucks venti paper cup. It’s got some personality, a little humor and it’s the perfect size!

fun, fun, fun!

After my little emo moment the other day, I got to thinking. (shocking, I know) I said to myself, “Self, maybe it’s menopause.” So I did a little net sleuthing and I found – horror of horrors…35 symptoms to check off.

Get out your pencils, girls.

1. Hot flashes, flushes, night sweats and/or cold flashes, clammy feeling …sounds like a song I once heard..”I’ve got that clammy feeling…

2. Bouts of rapid heart beat

3. Irritability, Mood swings…I am NOT emotional, I tell you!!

4. Sudden tears ….waaaaaaaaaaa. this is so me right now. I cry during movies that I’ve seen a hundred times, yet never shed a tear prior. Oy! Pass the tissues.

5. Trouble sleeping through the night (with or without night sweats) not so much.

6. Irregular periods; shorter, lighter periods; heavier periods, flooding; shorter cycles, longer cycles …TMI

7. Loss of libido….nope, just not my party these days.

8. Dry vagina …ewu. The things I get to look forward to. Do we have to get ALL the symptoms? I’ll skip this one, thanks.

9. Crashing fatigue…is this going to raise my car insurance?

10. Anxiety, feeling ill at ease

11. Feelings of dread, apprehension, doom …is it just me, or don’t #s 10 & 11 sound a bit the same?

12. Difficulty concentrating, disorientation, mental confusion …hmmm?

13. Disturbing memory lapses …I don’t remember having any loss of memory, so I think I’m okay with this one.

14. Incontinence, especially upon sneezing, laughing; urge incontinence …I’ve learned to cross my legs real tight when I feel a sneeze coming on.

15. Itchy, crawly skin …god, this is all so sexy.

16. Aching, sore joints, muscles and tendons

17. Increased tension in muscles …again, 16 &17: real similar. I think they’re just trying to raise the number count to make this meopause thing real serious sounding.

18. Breast tenderness ….didn’t we have to deal with this when we were 11?

19. Headache change: increase or decrease …I’ve had mega migraines lately. Ouch.

20. Gastrointestinal distress, indigestion, flatulence, gas pain, nausea …excuse me.

21. Sudden bouts of bloat …oh, great, this is all so fun.

22. Depression …sigh.

23. Exacerbation of existing conditions …again with raising the number count. Knock it off cyber writers.

24. Increase in allergies

25. Weight gain (!) another thing I can blame it on.

26. Hair loss or thinning, head, pubic, or whole body; increase in facial hair …oh, gross.

27. Dizziness, light-headedness, episodes of loss of balance

28. Changes in body odor

29. Electric shock sensation under the skin and in the head

30. Tingling in the extremities,

31. Gum problems, increased bleeding

32. Burning tongue, burning roof of mouth, bad taste in mouth, change in breath odor (WTF?!)

33. Osteoporosis

34. Changes in fingernails: softer, crack or break easier

35. Tinnitus: ringing in ears, bells, 'whooshing' buzzing etc.

Oh, fun, fun, fun!!! J

pocket full of nuthin

mckay said...
“…automatic pilot, coasting...been there and done that. right now, i think i must be stuck in neutral, in my cave, immersed in mental quicksand. nothing is motivating me. i need a jolt of something to get me in gear. But then again…

glad you are on such a healthy track. i'll look to people such as yourself for motivation and inspiration.
*#*#*#*#

There I was tying a rather benign blog comment confirming that I’ve been in my cave for the past four years. I thought I was numb, yet as I typed a quickie comment while in my work cubicle the tears started to flow.
“no. not here. not now. hold it back. bury it. don’t feel the pain. wipe your eyes. put the smile back in place.”

I don’t want to feel what I know is lurking. I’ve avoided letting it out all the way, but every once in a while the feelings seep through the cracks of locked doors only to be stuffed back and calked behind the barrier.

The first leg of the journey had me “doing” so much stuff..talking to numerous counselors, police detectives, criminal attorneys, divorce attorneys, customers, accountants, relatives, children…I was busy, busy, busy trying to manage and salvage the crisis. Now, for the most part, the crisis is over and I am surveying the fallout: the lost business partnership, the many lost relatives that once cared about me, a marriage that limped along at best, loss of a home, a neighborhood, a group of friends, and most painful of all - what I hate most about this whole thing: the loss of having my daughter near. The devastation is too much to handle.

I have so much hate and anger for a man I have to see regularly, who my little son adores. I stuff my feelings inside so I can smile at my little boy, listen to the odds and ends of stories of his cool dad. I will do this for my son.

Ever listen to Dr. Laura? If I had a long time ago….but why look back?… anyways, she gave advice to a young woman that helped me a lot. She said the way to survive a brutal crisis and continue on, is to keep the anger over what happened in the left pocket and live my life in the right pocket. The atomic anger I feel lives in my left pocket. My right pocket has a hole in it. I hope with time and prayer, humor and luck the hole will be repaired.

only the lonely

With my recent move and my subsequent purchase of a new satellite system and the infamous tivo, I’ve joined the better late than never club: I’ve started watching the ancient cultural phenomenon known as Sex and the City, all cleaned up, mind you, which suits me fine.

Tonight’s episode was about the single’s plight of living in a married world. Oh, the sorrow, to attend parties where all present are paired like occupants in noah’s ark and you’re the single orphan, receiving looks of both sympathy and suspicion. Blah, blah, blah…


Let me enlighten the masses on what really is the most abhorred existence; one so heinous that it should be encased behind glass to be observed from a sterile distance so not to catch any possible contagions: The divorced mother.

Divorced moms are the social pariah., the leper of the not so new millennium. Single people think, “how uncool in a sad way. Just like my mom.” Married people think, “how sad, I pray that never happens to US.”

SMs are never invited to the singles’ or couples’ parties of her past. Her phone number must have disappeared off of everyone’s pda.

But hey, that’s okay. I don’t want to go out much. I don’t really want to date. I just miss having a group of friends.

good clean fun

I think I’ve invented something:

Shower Aerobics©. It’s for those people who never exercise and whine out a litany of excuses:

“I don’t have time to go to the gym”
“I hate to get all sweaty”
“I can’t stand to exercise in front of other people”
“I can’t afford a gym membership”

For these people, here’s 20 Minute Shower Aerobics©


All one has to do to experience 20 Minute Shower Aerobics© is when taking your morning shower, put a grove to your booty and do a little dance and do some high knee lifts, wave your arms in the air, pull out all the aerobics moves you can that fit in a 5x5 shower stall. You’ll never get sweaty. You’ll step out feeling energized and refreshed. Just don’t slip in the soapy water, and wait to shave.

stretching the limits

you know you need to go on a diet when:

your stretch jeans won't stretch any further
you jiggle when you walk - in all the wrong places.
men don't do the slow head turn anymore and you feel invisible

model behavior

Naomi Campbell Charged With Assault
Thursday, March 30, 2006


NEW YORK — Naomi Campbell was charged with second-degree assault Thursday after cracking her housekeeper in the head with a phone during an argument in her Park Avenue apartment, police said.

The 35-year-old British-born supermodel was taken into custody shortly after police went to Lenox Hill Hospital to investigate the reported assault, police said.Campbell was charged after questioning at the Midtown North Precinct, where scores of photographers, reporters and film crews awaited her exit.

According to police, Campbell's 41-year-old housekeeper received four stitches to the head. When investigating officers arrived at the hospital, the alleged victim, who wasn't identified, said Campbell had attacked her, police said. The incident allegedly happened around 8 a.m. in Campbell's tony Park Avenue apartment.

In a statement, a Campbell spokesman said the supermodel wasn't responsible for any assault.

"We believe this is a case of retaliation, because Naomi had fired her housekeeper earlier this morning," said the statement from J.R. Johnson. "We are confident the courts will see it the same way."

Campbell, one of the world's most recognizable faces, was discovered at age 15. She launched a career that landed her in magazines worldwide — including the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue.

In 2003, she was sued by a former administrative assistant who alleged that Campbell had thrown a phone at her during a tantrum two years earlier.

Campbell pleaded guilty in Toronto to an assault charge for beating another assistant while making a film in Canada in 1998.

She has also battled a cocaine addiction.

* * * * * * * * * *


Watch out! She's gotta PHONE!


mckay says, “OMG, someone needs to add “no phones allowed” to her probation rules!..and who in their right mind would work for a lady with such a notorious history of going ballistic on assistants and/or housekeepers?!”

I answered my own question, didn’t I? No one in their right mind would work for such a shrew. If they knew the pattern, then they chose money over safety. If they didn’t know, then they have lived under a rock for the past decade and have no internet connection to keep up on the celebrities in hissy fit hot water.

Being an administrative assistant to a powerful female executive, I count my blessings that I am currently in my dream secretary job. My boss is powerful, fair, kind and quite the classy lady. I can honestly say that I have not had a phone thrown at me, nor have I been cracked over the noggin with a Nextel.

top this

It was a dark and stormy night. Well, early morning, and a bit cloudy, actually. Coming home from a semi wonderful trip to Italy (loved the country; the travel companion had some mental issues I’ll save for another time). It was a looong flight home and I had the fat (sexual orientation in question) lady from hell sitting next to me. her thigh fat oozed so far, wide and high, that she spilled over into my seat and the arm rest refused to go down as her cellulite kept it at a 'heil hitler' 45 degree angle.

Behind me was a family whose dad thought it was a wonderful idea to keep his toddler on his lab and let the child kick the back of my seat for entertainment. Non stop. Kick. Kick. Kick. When I ever so politely asked him to not have his son kick the back of my seat, he gave me the evil eye and informed me his son was ‘just a kid’.

“Yeah, and you’re an insensitive prick. Turn your son around and let him kick you in the groin for a bit and give my lower back a rest.”

Didn’t say it, just thought it... a lot.

Fat oozing to the right of me, kicking behind me and my travel companion snored all the way home.


(note: i've never, ever said the word 'prick' out loud in my life, but it sure feels good to type it. this blog is my alter ego, 'damn all those newport beach cotillion lessons and let it all out' therapy)


anyone care to share their travel horrors?

side effects

(disclaimer: someone sent this to me in an email. it's a hoot)


"Do you have feelings of inadequacy? Do you suffer from shyness? Do you sometimes wish you were more assertive? If you answered yes to any of these questions, ask your doctor or pharmacist about Tequila®.

Tequila® is the safe, natural way to feel better and more confident about yourself and your actions. Tequila® can help ease you out of your shyness and let you tell the world that you're ready and willing to do just about anything. You will notice the benefits of Tequila® almost immediately, and with a regimen of regular doses you can overcome any obstacles that prevent you from living the life you want to live. Shyness and awkwardness will be a thing of the past, and you will discover many talents you never knew you had. Stop hiding and start living, with Tequila®.

Tequila® may not be right for everyone. Women who are pregnant or nursing should not use Tequila®. However, women who wouldn't mind nursing or becoming pregnant are encouraged to try it. Side effects may include dizziness, nausea, vomiting, incarceration, erotic lustfulness, loss of motor control, loss of clothing, loss of money, loss of virginity, delusions of grandeur, table dancing, headache, dehydration, dry mouth, and a desire to sing Karaoke and play all-night rounds of Strip Poker, Truth Or Dare, and Naked Twister."

***

I’ve tried this Tequila®. I can testify that some of the side effects are accurate. Some I have not experienced and I think that’s a good thing.

Four for Friday

Four jobs you've had in your life:
-baby sitter for rod laver's baby
-waitress at ed debevic’s in phoenix, az.
-production assistant for a weekly television series
-admin for an insurance company. Boring, I know, but it pays the bills

Four movies you could watch over and over again:
-Legends of the Fall
-National Velvet
-Braveheart
-Mars Attacks

Four TV shows you love to watch:
-Grey’s Anatomy
-Desperate Housewives
-Myth Busters
-Foster’s Home for Imaginary Friends

Four places you've been on vacation:
-Venice, Italy
-Sprucedale Guest Ranch, Arizona
-Agra, India
-Sun Valley, Idaho

Four websites you visit daily:
-foxnews.com
-stevemartin.com
-realsimple.com
-newyorker.com

Four of your favorite foods:
-waldorf salad at cpk
-the napa coleslaw at tap’s
-calamari at scott’s seafood
-salmon with mango salsa at duke’s

Tivo and the Dude

i’m so glad i’m getting Tivo.

After 4 (yes FOUR) attempts to have DirecTv do a professional (read, not slip shod, crappy, wires showing all over the place) installation, i have bailed on my previous satellite vendor and have joined forces with Dish Network. They are supposed to arrive tomorrow morning to do the installation. This will be my fifth torturous Saturday in a row (minus Christmas Eve, when i i spoke with several neighbors in my new hood and they’ve all confirmed that their installations went smoothly. i’m cautiously hopeful that after 6 weeks, i will actually have working televisions. And just in time, too, because i am about to reveal my secret celebrity crush: Steve Martin.

My man, Steve-o, is going to be hosting SNL on February 4th (with Prince, who's no slouch, but i've never had a big interest in him or his music). Yep, i’m looking forward to watching SNL, but I will probably fall asleep prior to the 11:30 p.m. pacific standard start of the monologue. Hence, the tivo will be needed. Oh, and did i mention that the Dude knows me (Steve, not Prince)? Well... kinda, not really, but sort of.

Good ol’ mckay frequents his website and when i choose to say something profound or half-wittedy regarding his Steveness, i usually make up a name for him. Calling him ‘Steve’ is too personal since i’ve never met the man or shared spit or any other such nonsense. ‘Mr. Martin’ makes him sound like a high school science teacher, so that’s just too boring and formal. Anyways, on the website message board (i know, i’m pitiful) i’ve been known to refer to him as ‘Dude’, just because it’s goofy enough to not be taken seriously.

Anyways, his faithful followers were begging for a new message from the Stevester, as he hadn’t posted one in quite a while. i egged people into a contest to see who could guess the date of the Dude’s next message. Wellllll, a message didn’t come. Wasn’t posted. Nothing. Nope. Nada. We all went without. Until…

He was on the David Letterman show one evening, and guess what? He gave everyone a message: it was perfectly goofy and weird and as the gospel singers (yep, you read that right) sang of Steverino’s latest doings, they sang the lyric, “The Dude’s still playing his banjo”, which surprised me all to heck that he worked 'Dude' into the lyrics, and to be truthful, it gave me little warm fan fuzzies. or maybe it was a coinkidinky and i need to get out in the real world more, which i know i do, but such is the life of a divorced mom who choses not to date (much) and spend all her free time with her son, whom she adores all to pieces, but i digress.

(deep breath)

So, now you know, the secret is out. i’ve admitted my weakness for quality wit, charm and humor, in the form of one Steve Dude Martin. i truly feel he’s an artist of the highest caliber: author, playwright, comedian, actor, philosopher, prankster and smile maker. All good stuff.

Thanks, Dude.


(like he reads my blog. as if.)

what the???

A comment on a blog read, "I am an investor in an adoption company that matches lesbian couples with Russian babies.... I feel like I’m doing my part in helping lesbians form a normal family unit."

a normal family unit? the little Russian babe grows up watching mommy A and mommy B smooch?

The dictionary says: Normal
noun. 1. Something normal; the standard:
adjective 1. Conforming with, adhering to, or constituting a norm, standard, pattern, level, or type; typical: normal room temperature; one's normal weight; normal diplomatic relations.

how is a mommy + mommy + baby = normal family unit??? In who's world is that normal? Not mine. Do I want to stop lesbians from adopting? Nope, but don't call it normal. It was ‘Ozzie and Harriet’...not ‘Harriet and Mable’. Has our world changed so much that people are losing a sense of what's right and wrong; what’s a normal family unit vs. ….alternative life choices? Just because someone wants it, does not make it normal.

Please don’t think I’m being a lesbian basher. I’m not. My family unit isn’t normal either. I’m divorced. Twice. My daughter lives in a different state and my young son is getting ready to do the every-other-weekend-with-the-dad thing. That’s not normal. Wanna see what’s normal? Check out Jamie Dawn’s blog. Check out Beck. They're normal. Normal and maybe a bit weird, but still normal American families.

Now if you’ll excuse me I have to go watch Will and Grace. Gay sitcom humor: Now that’s normal. Sheesh.

What I'd much rather watch is Pleasantville, one of my favorite movies and a great example about understanding that what "was" and what "has always been" changes. Change is normal. Perhaps change is the only thing that's constant and normal...

Did you see this one today??

here's the funniest article i read on the net today: what a hoot, ...er, squawk!

Quick, stuff that dumb bird's mouth with crackers!

A blabbermouth parrot named Ziggy squawked "I love you, Gary" — spilling the beans to his owner on his girlfriend's affair, according to the BBC.
According to reports in the British media, Suzy Collins had been shacking up with a former co-worker, "Gary," for about four months in the Leeds flat she shared with boyfriend Chris Taylor.
After Ziggy chirped "Hiya Gary" one time when Collins answered her cell phone, Taylor reportedly staring suspecting something was up.
Whenever the TV sounded out the name Gary, the blabbermouth bird apparently made little "smoochy" sounds.
The 30-year-old computer programmer confronted Collins, whom he'd lived with for a year, and she confessed to the affair under pressure and moved out, according to several different newspaper reports.
Sadly, after the 8-year-old African Grey parrot kept on calling out Gary's name — along with different embarrassing phrases in Collins' lilting 25-year-old voice — Taylor was forced to get rid of the stool pigeon.
"I wasn't sorry to see the back of Suzy after what she did, but it really broke my heart to let Ziggy go," Taylor told the BBC.
"I love him to bits and I really miss having him around, but it was torture hearing him repeat that name over and over again," he said.
Collins said she's embarrassed by the bird-brained revelations, but the relationship was already troubled.
"I'm not proud of what I did but I'm sure Chris would be the first to admit we were having problems," she told the BBC.
Named after rocker David Bowie's alter ego Ziggy Stardust, Ziggy now has a new home after being relocated by a nearby parrot dealer.

Rainstorms and Apron Strings

Last night I had my first nightmare in months. My ex somehow got inside my home and was taking my son. The dream kept repeating. The home wasn’t mine. My subconscious had warped my home and made up some strange indoor/outdoor maze of a building that was supposed to be my house. It was raining. The house leaked. Vulnerable. Unprotected. He wasn’t supposed to be in my home. He had no key. There was a restraining order being ignored. He was taking my son…

* * *


This weekend will be the first time my son spends the weekend at his dad’s house. Three years of courts and lawyers, psychologists and social workers. Almost $80 grand in fees to protect my son and this weekend my son is going to his dad’s home and will probably wake in the middle of the night and climb into his dad’s bed with his new wife.

It gives me nightmares and my son is okay with the upcoming ‘sleepover’, “I like my dad. My dad’s the best dad in the whole world. And you’re the best mom in the whole world.” I smile and agree, “And you’re the best son in the whole world.” I play it cool. I don’t make waves. I keep my fears to myself.

I’ve been praying for his dad for three years; longer, if you count the times of prayer during our dating and marriage. I’m betting on that his dad has changed and all is well. A little apron string is being cut this week and it hurts.

My Life as a Battery

My life is positively and negatively charged. Sometimes I’m full of energy and other times I’m all out of juice. I knew moving during the holidays would be a challenge; one I could handle. We’ve all made the move, and although it was difficult on several levels for all concerned, we’ve all adjusted. After one month has passed, my three year old’s nightmares have subsided and the dogs have stopped their frantic barking at all hours (the bark activated ultrasonic dog-hating sound box I bought yesterday may have helped a bit)…the cat just seems to be irritated and is eating more.

I was fortunate enough to ‘unofficially’ be given a set of keys to my new home several days prior to close of escrow by the sellers (they were a kind, young couple who had some very questionable decorating tastes. I’m looking forward to pulling down all the cutesy country wallpaper in the dining room). On December 9th I bought a Christmas tree and set it up in the little living room, knowing that once I was in move-mode I wouldn't have time to go do the Christmas tree thing. On December 10th, the movers showed up three hours late with a truck that was way too small. After two round trips, the furniture was finally unloaded at 2:30 a.m. All that was left to do was go back to my old house in the morning, do a final clean up and vacuum, put the dogs in the back of my SUV and get back to the new home in time to shower, dress and head out to my company’s holiday party that I was chairing, oh, and swing by a gift shop to pick up some last minute raffle prizes for the party.

By Sunday evening I was going on three days of no sleep and the dogs were going berserk. I called my former dog trainer and shipped the pooches off to doggy boot camp for a week to learn some manners, give my family a chance to sleep and my new neighbors a chance to not hate my guts.

I bought a pottery barn kitchen table at a local consignment shop, spent a chunk of change on planters to cheer up the patio, and with a generous gift card from my realtor I bought the coolest brushed chrome trash can I’ve ever seen.

I’m still surrounded by boxes, but the Christmas stuff is now packed away, which makes for a great improvement in the clutter department. My male dog peed on the Christmas presents and the cat coughed up a nice hair ball in the laundry.

Whenever we hear the train pass by I get excited and tell my son, “There’s our train saying hello to us!” I think I have us both fooled that living close to the train track is a cool thing.

My son helped me replace the football and baseball cabinet knobs with cut glass and brass knobs. He loved the “diamonds” so much I bought one extra for him and he thinks it’s marvelous to own such a thing. I thanked him for his help making our new home nicer and he's thrilled to be on the home improvement team. Lord help me when it comes time to paint!

I’m still without satellite tv or internet service, and I really don’t miss them a bit, but I hear once I get Tivo I’ll never want to live without it.

We say our prayers every night and I thank God for our little cottage, the tiny commute and more time with my son. That’s what the move was all about. It puts everything in perspective to be able to have a sound roof over our heads, a nice meal on the table and extra time for playing chutes and ladders in front of the fireplace at night.

I don’t miss the 90 minute commute or the huge quantities of gas I used to buy. When I start to miss the big house and the panoramic view, I turn and look at my son’s smile and all is well. Then the dog chases the cat up the stairs and life goes on.

Batteries somehow charged and smile shining bright.

Merry Christmas!

i've been hit with the 'holiday' wand this year at work, magically putting me in charge of all things “holiday”: the department party at a local country club, office tree trimming, egg nog, warm cider...i'm getting frazzled with having to use politically correct verbiage everywhere. i’ve organized a 'holiday tree trimming party' for tomorrow morning, where co-workers each bring in one ornament to decorate the office tree. since I’m not allowed to call it a Christmas Tree, which makes me go, “Grrrr” since THAT’S WHAT IT IS, i'll do the next best thing, and make sure my ornament is a cross, baby Jesus or something that says 'Merry Christmas' on it. i may even have to find my ‘Jesus is the Reason for the Season’ pin to wear to work tomorrow, if I can find it amoungst all my moving boxes.

“Merry Christmas, Everybody!”

(said in my best George Bailey shout :0)