Teensy Shorts and World Market

Today has been one of those days wherein I have run around all day long doing things that I had much rather not be doing. "What happened to work?" you ask. Well, my office was being dismantled and resurrected in another part of the building today. My cell mate and I had planned on coming in at noon, but when I arrived to survey the new digs, no go. It appeared that [Unmentionable Local Office Supply Co.] had the same hours as me. Strangely enough, they ran somewhat of a parallel course with me throughout the day. When I left the office, they left for lunch. When I came back, they were just getting back to business, and so on. I have attempted to catch up on correspondence here from home, but I gave up after my third attempt to go into work and went shorts shopping instead.

Which leads me to this...

Why is it that NONE of the cute, quasi-conservative shorts on the Old Navy website reside in an actual store? When I showed up at our local ON, all I found were these:

And while I WISH I could sport these somewhere other than inside the confines of the local ON dressing room, I'd rather not buy the additional butt bra to do so. Everywhere I looked were these teensy shorts strategically placed beside just as teensy tanks. What about us regular old Non-teensys? We're the ones with the disposable (or at least budgetable) incomes. Why are there no shorts for us? Are we supposed to only care about shoes and handbags? Do we HAVE to wear those stupid (and I own some) cropped pants regardless of the unbearable heat and humidity? I have to interject here that Old Navy is not alone. I went to three separate and distinct area clothing stores with the same miserable results. I was so sad and dejected, in fact, that as I was leaving Kohl's I suddenly remembered the Wine Sale at World Market. What can I say? Instead of spending countless more depressing hours rifling through mini-shorts, I chose to spend my somewhat short shorts budget on 1/2 price wines. I must admit that being Non-teensy does have its advantages, i.e. 50% off a bottle of Toasted Head Merlot and the driver's license with which to buy it.

Namaste

Just one more thing...

Sorry, but I just had to post this photo I took of Carson in action at Saturday's game. (She will be peeved if she finds out). I was surprised that I was able to catch something (anything) in action with that little Kodak digital. Digital cameras are such an adjustment for me. It's taking me so long to really get the hang of using them. Hopefully, one day, I can upgrade to one of those really nice $700-$800 jobs. In the meantime, I'll just keep practicing NOT looking through a viewfinder.
Namaste!

Scenes From a Wedding

My cousin Bethany and her fiance Todd married on Saturday evening. The event couldn't have been more perfect. I was lucky enough to get a photo of Bethany during the ceremony with G-mama looking on, although it was a bit tricky. The church was dimly lit, but the setting sun shown lightly through the stained glass giving the entire ceremony a dreamlike effect. Bethany looked as if she'd just walked off the pages of Bride's magazine, the gown an ideal match for her features: elegant, classic, stunning. My favorite part of the ceremony was a touching reading by the mother of the bride.

I kept thinking back to my teenage years of the summer spent babysitting the bride and her sister. Bethany was such a happy, active toddler and her sister the cutest, sweetest and most helpful little girl. It was one of the most memorable summers of my youth: days filled with hide-and-seek, coloring, puzzles and nights of listening to music with the windows wide open.

I am bound to digress even further unless I stop myself now. My main objective was to post some photos from the reception.

Mona BB and Tony enjoying the band
Tyler and Toby - The Prom Pose

G-mama and The Gang

I took lots more pictures with the old-fashioned Canon 35 mm, but those will take days to be developed. I apologize for the short post, but I just finished hosting a dinner for my parents and brother. I'm dragging just a bit.

Namaste

X and My Shrink

Good afternoon, beautiful reader. I have missed you so. Today is the first day in weeks that I have had the house to myself. I know that it won't last long, so I'm savoring every moment.

BizBlog is fabulous today. I have been so behind on her life that reading it was like having a chocolate cake with chocolate icing for breakfast. It's so hilariously honest. Her truth is so refreshing. It's more than refreshing, it's LIBERATING. Thanks for the post, Bizzy. It dug me out of a real funk. What's really odd about it is that I've been muddling through my own little parallel mini dramas.

What is it about people that inspires them to attempt puppet mastery? It's so incredibly fruitless. Even if they manipulate someone into doing exactly what they want, what follows is barren and hollow and they're left with a nagging suspicion that won't go away. Then the suspicion feeds upon itself and there's more manipulation and more barrenness and more suspicion...and, well, you get the picture. It's exhausting for everyone involved. Case in point, conversation with The X. My Shrink calls his tactic The Relationship Triangle...

"Well, I guess you know what [Daughter] is doing tonight."

"Mmm. Hmmm."

"Well, what do you think about it?" And without even breathing, launches into "I think [blah, blah, blah, ad nauseum]." This is X's first attempt to lure me into The Relationship Triangle.

I respond with [my first attempt to bypass TRT] "If you feel that way, maybe you should talk to her about that. I'm sure she'd appreciate hearing your thoughts." By proposing that X speak directly to [Daughter], TRT is momentarily avoided, but...

"Well, don't you think she ought to [blah, blah, blah]? I mean, if she does this, [so and so] is going to happen."

Again, I try to divert TRT by saying "Well, I think we've raised her relatively well. It's her life, after all. She is free to make decisions about things like that."

Through the telephone I can hear X's blood pressure rising exponentially by the nanosecond. "Well, I'm just trying to say that we need to tell her that [blah, blah, blah] and if she does this, then she's going to end up doing [blah, blah]."

And here is where I pull one out of left field...the rusty but trusty Broken Record tactic. "If you feel that way, maybe you should talk to her about that. I'm sure she'd appreciate hearing your thoughts."

X increases the volume as if I've spontaneously developed club disease, "I'M JUST TRYING TO SAY THAT WE NEED TO TELL HER THAT [more blah, blah, blah]."

This goes on for some time with more and more desperate attempts to pull me into TRT. When the call finally ends, I'm absolutely exhausted but NOT guilt-ridden (my normal reaction). It feels so good that I vow to practice staying out of The Relationship Triangle over and over again until it's habit. Speaking of TRT, note the repeated use of "we" by X in conversation. He uses "we" as if there were one. This is a syndrome I've termed the Armchair Dad, cousin to Armchair Quarterback. X thinks that by saying "we" a lot in conversation that I'll forget that no one in this house has seen his face in some time. He thinks that I'll forget that WE haven't been around everyday for ballgames and chemistry projects and crying babies and visitors. WE haven't taken daughters to get their driver's license or fed infants or cooked supper every night. It's funny. Sometimes I wonder if that we-business he uses works with other people. I guess it must.

I'm hoping that today's exercise has drawn me closer to good mental health, but I'm not sure. I am spilling my guts about this to ones and twos of people. What does that say about me? Maybe I should just send a link to this post to My Shrink. It would sure save some cash and maybe then I wouldn't lose sleep wondering where My Shrink gets all of her cute shoes.

Oh, brother

I came home today to the most spectacular sight. It was a miracle. Care to venture a guess? Don't even bother, because you'd never believe it was my BROTHER mowing my lawn. Can you even stand it? What a nice guy he turned out to be! My mom had been over all day helping B with the baby. I couldn't say for sure, but I have a sneaking suspicion she might have coaxed him a little. The thing is, she knows about my street. My street is a street wherein your lawn is more important than your car, your house or your kids. You could live in a silver bullet travel trailer hooked to a rusty, rotting El Camino with no complaints as long as you keep a lush, dandelion-free outdoor space. On this street, your lawn is an extension not of your home but of your soul. I come home for lunch nearly every day of the week, and nearly every day of the week someone is working in their yard here. They're either mowing or raking or planting or edging or bagging grass clippings. I'm telling you it's the third reich of lawn care over here, and I'm the enemy of the state. See, I'm the only non-Scott's-Lawn-Care-touting lot in the 'hood. I'm the the pitiful neighbor sneaking around at 7 a.m. on Sunday mornings frantically digging up wild onions and pulling at milk weeds. I'm the neighbor whose yard has so many weeds that some are yet to even be named within the Southern Living Gardening Encyclopedia. The good thing is, when the grass (or weeds, as the case may be) is cut this short, it's hard to tell where grass ends and weeds begin.


I'm also the kind of neighbor who has the loudest and brashest of flowers growing in the backyard. These little sirens (a.k.a. Blanket Flowers) came up voluntarily in a totally different area than the ones I had last year. Crazy!

Namaste

Five Generations

Heidi has had more visitors in five short days than I've had in the entire four years I've lived here combined. The girl is popular, I'm telling ya.

On Friday Heidi's great-grandmother and great-great-grandmother lunched with her. Great-Granny brought a delectible chicken divan in for the occasion, but Heidi stuck with her Nestle Good Start formula. I covered for Heidi by taking on an extra helping myself.

During lunch, Heidi's third cousin Mary and son Jaron (would he be Heidi's fourth cousin or second cousin once removed? It's so confusing.) stopped by to "sneak a little peek-a-loo." I was so excited to hear that Mary and Jaron were getting settled back here in Paducah after a few weeks of visiting in Illinois.


During the visit Mary was gracious enough to take this five generations photo:


Namaste to all you beautiful mothers out there!

Hello, Heidi!

Heidi arrived on May 1, 2007 at 11:56 a.m. She was 7 lbs. 15 oz. and measured 18 1/2 inches long. Both she and B are doing wonderfully. I will post a full report once I slow down for a few minutes. (This grandparent business is FANTASTIC!)

Namaste!!!!!