Eat Pie and Dance

The Daily Yank

2009-11-06T16:18:01Z

We have an elderly couple living behind us. They are kind and affable and have a shelter rescue dog. Shadow is a mix of pit bull and chocolate lab. She is waayyy to young and energetic for them. I’m not clear on the details, but somehow my Daughter volunteered to walk the dog whenever she can.

Thus the evolution of The Daily Yank.

For a smallish dog, Shadow is strong and also really, really excited to have walks. Judging by the way my Daughter gets yanked along, her leash arm should be significantly longer. My Daughter can dig in her heels as much as she wants but she doesn’t weight enough more than Shadow to prevent being yanked around.

Mr. Wonderful loves this. He waits till our Daughter is being dragged past the house, stands on the porch and calls “who’s a good boy?” Shadow loves Mr. W, so she hauls our Daughter sputtering up the hill to get pettins. I noticed last weekend – Mr. Wonderful has started walking the dog when our Daughter is away.

Recently, I dropped by the neighbors with mail that had been mistakenly delivered to our house. Shadow was overjoyed. Cue furious wagging, happy hopping – the whole gamut of anticipatory behavior. I had bread in the oven. It broke my heart to see the disappointment. How can an animal with no language convey that much heartbreak?

I felt so guilty that I went back to walk her when the bread was done. Now I’m the one being hauled around by a badly behaved dog who lunges at bikes, yanks me across lawns when a squirrel is spotted and tries to pick a fight with every other dog who walks past. For a good-natured dog, Shadow is a two-year-old social wildebeest. She pulls so hard on her leash that she chokes.

Any guidance?

Big Chicken

2009-10-31T05:21:37Z

Mr. Wonderful took the day off work. First off, he held my coffee cup out to me this am saying “Here Zombie. Zombie, Zombie.” Even wearing my morning crankypants, it made me laugh.

We saw the movie ‘Paranormal Activity’. He’s upstairs sleeping like a moose, all large and snore-y. I’m awake for the rest of my life.

I am such a wussy. That movie scared the shit out of me. You should have seen me when the ‘fridge made a noise just now. Phew!

I’m fine with Vamps, Zombies, Aliens etc because they aren’t real. This movie had such normal people in a normal house. I don’t think I’ve been this creeped since I was 13, babysitting and watched “Psycho” on tv. It took me a month to recover.

Sersly – even an episode of Entourage, which usually bores me into coma immediately, isn't going to lull me into sleep tonight.

I am a big chicken.

Maybe I should try Dan Browns new book.....

Moar Brains

2009-10-29T22:42:34Z

Mr. Wonderful gets up Monday through Friday at 6am and heads to the gym. As I have mentioned dozens of times before, I abhor anything before 8am. My idea of hell is a 6am workout. There is no need for more than one 6 o’clock in any day.

Usually, as he gets up, Mr. W presses his pillow into the small of my back. I call it the heinie pillow of complete unconsciousness. I’m out for the duration.

I come to about an hour later – driven by the need for caffeine. Yesterday, I was stumbling around the kitchen, making coffee, being my usual evol morning self. Mr. W walked in the kitchen door from workout and started grinning. He irritates the hell out of me, being cheerful, first thing in the morning.

“Oh shut it,” I croaked at him.

“Moar Brains, uggnh, ” he said, pouring himself coffee, “except Zombies have more brain activity than you in the morning.”

All I could do was chug my coffee and hate him for being a cheerful morning person.

Next morning he woke me up with a pat on the arm. He had brought me a cup of coffee and the newspaper.

“Moar brains,” he groaned at me grinning. “Do you think your eyes will be pointing in the same direction by the time I need a ride to metro?”

I am the luckiest person on earth.
+++++++++++
I’ve been scurrying around Getting Ready for my trip to Korea and Thailand. My new passport came the other day. SQUEE! Passport #4 has a picture of an old lady – a marked contrast to Passport #1.

I’ve been a lot of places for work and for fun, but I don’t think I’ve ever anticipated any travel as much as this trip. It’s going to be winter in Korea and Heatstroke Central in Thailand. I was fretting about packing. It usually isn’t an issue for me, as I go by the philosophy that there is More at the Store and I can also Do Without.

Then it hit me – I could just box up some summer clothes and mail them to Miss Peg. I wouldn’t have to haul it all over Korea. Moar Brains!

I have lots more news – but for some reason these days, every time I sit down to type I get twitchy. Who knows what's up with that......

empresspatti @ 2009-10-20T22:45:00

2009-10-21T02:47:52Z

If I loved getting shots, getting ready for my trip to Korea and Thailand would be a thrill. So far this week, I’ve been poked for flu and Hepatitis A. In a few weeks it’ll be H1N1, typhoid and danang fever, plus whatever else the CDC and Kaiser decide I need. Oh joy.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, since the first round of shots I’ve been dragging my ass around behind me in a wagon. I am so tired, yo. I’m in bed by 10p every night, snoring 30 seconds later. I drag myself up in the morning and stumble around like a zombie. I chug my first cup of coffee like a caffeine brain bullet.

Ok – mornings might be my normal behavior.

I’m still moping about missing my Son, but I am unable to sustain a bad mood, misery or grudge. I realized that it isn’t just about missing my boy and all the noise – its also a huge life change. We might still be Parents, but we aren’t Mom and Dad everyday. Kids contain a lot of laughter and we miss that.

But, with my Son gone and Daughter away most weekends, I’ve discovered something long forgotten: Mr. Wonderful and Leisurely Nookie.

There is an upside to not having the kids underfoot every living minute.

A Marital Email

2009-10-13T21:24:08Z

From Me to Mr. Wonderful......

RE: Now might be the time to remind you that you married me for better and for worse.

Ok - Laundry room is revamped and very clean.

The only casualty is the pilot light on the hot water heater. I was zooming around with the vacuum and must have sucked the flame out. I then set my bangs on fire trying to relight.

So now you have a project for when you get home.

Shut up!

Random update

2009-10-08T02:45:07Z

First off – a shout out. After my crummy week, I met

lizziebuffy2008 for coffee on a sunny Friday afternoon. What a treat!

Channeling my inner Jane Austin (I just read Pride and Prejudice and Zombies) I can attest that she is as charming as she is convivial. 2009 speak – smart, beautiful and funny. I hope you and your hubby have a fabulous time in Paris.

It occurs to me that I’m two for two – I’ve also met

confusedkayt. Both were great experiences. Every day I am so pleased and entertained by my flist. Thanks, everyone.

OK – enough with the squee. Onward to the whining….

I have the glooms. I miss my Son – or to be more accurate, I miss the noise, the boys, the constant assault on the fridge and 6pm when he used to circle the kitchen like a shark. I feel like the family dog left behind during vacation. I’ll be glad when this mope wears off. I sure hope I am gainfully employed by the time my Daughter moves out or who knows how miserable I'll make myself. I couldn’t possibly be more annoying.

Nothing compliments gloom more than home improvement projects. Mr. W and I have just finished the marriage enhancing ritual known as "washing the mold off the vinyl siding accessible only by standing on the roof.”

I was roof guy, since I weigh less and am less important to the family economy; also because Mr. W has a height phobia. Aforementioned height phobia led Mr. W to the bright idea of tying a rope around the deck rail and clipping on a belay, then insisting my tying it around my waist for ‘ballast.’ Whatever that is.

SO in addition to scrinking around on my ass on the roof (too scary to stand up) with a long handled brush and bucket of soapy water, wearing an allergy mask over my nose and mouth because mold is my trigger for personal misery, I was wrestling with a rope.

Imagine how charming I was.

What a miserable job. My ass got chapped as hell. Hopefully we will sell our home before we need to wash the mold off again. The whole ordeal took about 3 hours which included arguments, going to Home Depo to buy rope and hauling the ladder, bucket of soapy water and hose around the house. It only seemed like eternity. Next up is drywall in the laundry room.

It might be smarter to mope.

A question for my friendslist:

2009-10-01T16:54:53Z

Dear Awesome Flist (and anyone else who wanders by)

I have just booked a trip to Thailand in January. I have mounds of guidebooks, but it occurs to me that perhaps someone in my online universe might have 1) been 2) have advice on What Not To Miss.

So here is the question – I’m spending a week in Seoul, Korea and then a month in Bangkok. What do you recommend as Do Not Miss?

A short fannish squeeeeeee

2009-09-18T02:19:05Z

I am on the Glee train. I am all about the Glee. Whee! Glee! What a treat.

ALSO =

Thank Gwad for Vampire Diaries. Could it possibaly be any cheesier? The Fog Machine – how I love it. Totally Smell the Fart acting – so craptastic. Quick - more screaming and running in the woods wearing high heels......

I’m doing the happy dance!

Stumbling through life

2009-09-16T20:31:51Z

I am the Crap Fairy.

Sunday I convinced my oldest friend to hike the Billy Goat Trail. I had done the hike earlier in the summer and it was lovely. Since we usually do some type of hike a couple of times a month, I pitched it as a special treat for her birthday.

Who knew I was proposing the day from hell?

First off, the toilet paper roll holder attacked her during the pre-walk pee. Cue blood and oozing finger.

Then we embarked on the actual hike, which is strenuous. I’ve known this person for 45 years. How did I not know that she was squicked by heights? The whole damn hike is climbing along cliffs near the Potomac River.

She had such a hard time with the heights and the difficulty of the route that we had to take the emergency exit from the trail. Happy Birthday. I wasn’t trying to kill you but I suck.

After giving my oldest and dearest friend a miserable Sunday, I hit the gym Monday morning and bumped into a woman I knew in college. We haven’t seen each other for at least decade and were delighted to run into each other. We sat down for a catch-up chat.

Within minutes she brought up her college boyfriend. He and my bad boy lover had been best friends, back in the olden days.

“We should take a day,” she said, “and go visit him.”

I must have flinched.

‘What?’ she said.

My brain was doing the hamster dance because he DIED a year ago.

What is the etiquette for telling an old acquaintance that her once true love was gone while sitting in a gym lobby waving occasionally at buddies walking by?

Yeah, I didn’t know either. I just told her the truth as simply and gently as possible. It was awful for her. She left immediately. I watched her walk across the parking lot crying. Yeesh.

So early this morning, the phone rings. A good friend is hysterical. Can I come over? I got right in the car.

She was standing in her driveway crying. Her husband, who had left them 6 months ago, had just sent her an email saying it was time for a divorce.

Needless to say, she hadn’t been stoic for the children. Inside the house, her boys (6 & 11) were sobbing. School was not an option. It was time for triage.

“In honor of this craptastic day,” I told them, “you guys are staying home from school and watching Eight Legged Freaks, which is the cheesiest horror movie ever. What do you want for breakfast?”

It took a while, but I got them calmed down, fed and planted in front of the tv. I went back outside and spent the next 70 minutes listening to the sound of a heart breaking. Then I made everyone lunch.

I have never been so far out of my depth.

A Very Good Day

2009-09-13T01:15:44Z

Several years ago, I wrote briefly about my experience in the CNN DC Bureau newsroom on 9/11/01. I don’t know that I’ll ever write more – it just brings back all the misery and heartbreak of the day. Remembering is hard enough. I will always remember.

9/11/09 was very different. Mr. Wonderful, my Daughter and I dropped our Boy off at college. No, I didn’t just slow down the car and toss him out.

He was so happy and excited, ready to start his new life. We were happy for him – being in the presence of such palatable joy is, um – joyful. It was a very good day. University of North Carolina School of the Arts is a beautiful place. I'm really proud of him. He's known for a long time exactly what he wants to do and he's going for it with a single minded geronimo aplomb. How great is that?

Mr. W and my Daughter slept most of the ride home – so it was easy for me to speed along and have my cry. I wanted to raise my kids to have roots and wings. I wanted them to launch into happy, successful adults. I have no regrets – except maybe that it went by so fast.

Mr. W is at CNN in the middle of a big technical upgrade. Except for dropping off the Boy, he hasn’t had a day off work in the last 15. My Daughter is out with friends.

The house is really empty and silent. Tonight didn’t feel like the time to seek out company. Right now I’m mostly quiet – lots of memories, lots of emotions to process. Hopefully, in a few days, I’ll be back to being me – not too serious, ready to laugh.

It’s time for some Lutheran Sleep Response. Anytime can be nap time.

There is no charm in a bad attitude

2009-08-29T18:11:01Z

In earlier times, the idea of dropping my last child off at college made me sniffy.

Today the reality is this: I’d be ok with slowing down the car, giving my Son a shove, hollering ‘bye’ and watching his possessions flutter down around him from the rear view mirror.

Yes Dear Reader; I am at that stage of parenthood for the first time.

Thank Gwad this is a very recent development in Empresspattiland. More than ever, I realize how easy we've had it during the teenage years.

But I digress from my bitching.

For the first time ever I have witnessed an enchanting combo of petulance, irritation and know-it-all sulks. It aggravates the living shit out of me.

Its almost as if he’s 14 again, only taller and his room smells so much worse.

He’s survived because there are rare moments of sweetness, where I find Him again. The other night he came home late, flopped down on my bed and said “all the rest of my friends leave tomorrow.’

“You’ll see them again, at Thanksgiving and Christmas.” I told him.

“It will all be different then,” he huffed marching back to his room. 11:30p on a work night is a bad time for attitude and loud music.

I will not kill my Son. I will not kill my Son.

empresspatti @ 2009-08-20T20:49:00

2009-08-21T00:53:14Z

It feels like the millionth day in a row of 95+ degrees here in Our Nations Capital. It hasn’t rained since June. I am ready to poke my eyes out. I like open windows, a cool breeze and temps not exceeding 72 degrees. If you throw in a nice pattering rain, it is Nirvana.

Is it Fall yet?

*End of Whining*

Continuing the Summer of Fun, I saw my college roommate Tuesday. She was in from California visiting her Mom. It was a real treat, since I don’t see her very often, as in maybe 10 times in the last 30 years. Her latest CD is outstanding - check it out.

I picked her up and we spent a very enjoyable afternoon on the beach and went out to dinner. It was a long drive home, definitely worth it. It brought back lots of fun memories I hadn’t thought about in decades.

Thirty-two years ago, the summer I graduated college, we took off for Rehoboth Beach, Del. It was 4^th of July weekend; we had no place to stay. Within a day we had landed jobs and found a tiny apartment. It was a fun summer.

The universe has really aligned for me this summer. I have seen almost everyone I have ever loved. It occurs to me that if my life was a sappy movie, this is where I would die.

Instead, I think I’ll just wait out the heat. I'm glad this is just Real Life - which is occasionally full of unexpected gifts.....

Kittys, little kids and nests of idiots

2009-08-19T18:39:05Z

As happens often in Empresspattiland, two very pretty girls showed up just now to visit with my Son. They were in possession of a two-week-old kitten with a very convoluted back-story. Kitten was yowling loudly. The girls had a can of kitty formula and a tiny bottle.

I noticed that the nipple on the bottle was not perforated. Taking possession the kitty and bottle I managed to get about an ounce of formula down the hatch.

Kitty was alert and playful, but when I put her (?) down on the floor she walked with her head tilted up and sideways. Is that normal? It seems awfully young to be weaned and I wonder if I should insist on a vet visit or what…….?

I haven’t a clue and would welcome all advice.

+++++++++++++++++++++++

This continues to be the Summer of Fun. Mr. W, our Daughter and I were invited to a CNN friend’s house for dinner Saturday night. They have a 2-½ yr old son and a 7-month-old daughter. It was really fun to be around little kids again. The little boy took to Mr. W big time and even came marching into the bathroom to keep Mr. W company while he went ‘potty.’

Mr. W came back to the dinner table and whispered to me. We almost died laughing. Naturally, the Parents were horrified, which made us howl even longer. It was a very good evening.

“I’m exhausted,” my Daughter said as we drove home at the crack of 8:30p, because we left right before final bedtime meltdown, “and I only watched the shienagans.”

We’d forgotten how much attention little pishers suck up. It was a real nice reminder of how much work and joy they bring AND the best birth control lesson we could have asked for. Win-win.

++++++++++++++

Sunday night Mr. W and I went to Wolf Trap to see Taj Mahal and Bonnie Raitt. I couldn’t get anything but lawn tickets, but we took a big sheet, a couple of pillows and got a fairly decent spot. Little did I realize that we were sitting next to a nest of idiots. They yammered loudly through the first songs in the set and were offended when I pointed out that the concert had started and no one wanted to hear any more about the girlfriends boob and nose job.

This got a round of applause from the people nearby and tingly offended silence from the idiot nest.

It just makes me wonder:

Why go to a concert if you are going to talk loudly during the show? Isn’t that what movie theatres are for?

Who discusses boob surgery with an audience of thousands?

Why do I always have to be the adult? Couldn’t anyone else have asked them to STFU?

I love mankind. It’s people I can’t stand.

Summer Projects

2009-08-08T01:58:07Z

I’m moving like an old lady. My back is on fire. Which Serves Me Right. I went into a berserker fugue house cleaning orgy after the last of my Dad’s 80^th bd party company decamped.

It started innocently – I came home from the gym and there was no place in the house I could sit without seeing spiders, cobwebs or crud. It took 7 hours which proves I am truly obsessive. I vacuumed behind bookshelves and under beds and couches. I scrubbed and waxed. For a grand finale, I washed all the curtains.

I prolly took a year off my life inhaling household chemicals, but my bathrooms glow in the dark. Mr. W and my Son aren’t allowed to use them anymore.

‘Go at work,’ I told them.

In order to get away from his insane wife, Mr. W wandered outside and for reasons I'll never understand, decided to poke the trim over the garage door.

Down on his head showered a a huge swarm of ants. It was horror show icky. The trim, festooned with rusty nails, fell on him once the ant cascade abated. He's lucky he made that mess outside or he'd be the headline of the Washington Post obit section.

Due to poor caulking, damp has invaded the supporting beam over our garage door. Now we have a marriage enhancing home improvement project.

The upside is that we DON’T have termites, much to the chagrin of the pest control guy who had visions of big bucks when he came to check.

++++

Life is about to change. We send our Son off to college in a few weeks. We won’t exactly be empty nesters but it is just a matter of months till our Daughter leaves too. I am more sanguine than Mr. W. He’s losing his best buddy and partner in crime.

Since my back hurt too much to Do Things, I decided to update my resume because I'm ready to start my post-Mom life.

Imagine my joy when I realized that my resume is GONE FROM THE SERVER never to be found again. Basically, I had a few fun jobs right after college. Then I worked on news events until I stopped working in 2005. I never had to email a resume anywhere. I don’t have a paper copy. What a revolting development!

Upside? Even my file cabinets are organized now – all because of the Great Resume Search. I filled up the paper recycle bin throwing stuff away.

So I’m sitting in my newly pristine, hyper organized home, reconstructing my old life one segment at a time. I am my own history lesson, another improvement project, complete with ants.

William Bennett needs to put on his pants

2009-07-22T18:42:46Z

In the I Am Not Making This Up File:

Daughter got home late last night from a crazy day at work. Highlight of her day as follows:

Bill Bennett was commentating (blovating) on The Situation Room. CNN has set a robocam up at his house as a cheaper alternative than always having to transport him to a studio when his commentary is scheduled.

Um – now might be the time to confess that The Situation Room gives me a headache with all the spinning graphics and crap. It distracts from the fact that they don’t cover actual news. Blitzer used to be good. Nuff said.

ANYWAY – my Daughter, a second control room producer and both techs in Quality Control were working on the remote shot. White balance, audio, video, robotic control, check, check, check. Then they refocused the camera just in time to realize that William Bennett had on a shirt & tie, but NO PANTS. Talk about taking casual dress to another level. Did he really think no one would notice? MY daughter said they all stood around, looking at the monitor, saying “Oh NO!”

I can’t believe she passed on the opportunity to tell him she’d noticed. I would have had a lot of fun with that conversation. I mean - they already had the ifb in his ear and the camera on. What a missed opportunity.

I HOPE some CNN guest booker has a Wear Your Pants Discussion with our former Surgeon General/Drug Czar.

Seriously, WTF??? Who does that? Billyboy, wear your pants when there is a camera in the room, even if you are sitting down in a framed shot!

++++

In other happy news, both Mr. W and I have gotten speeding tickets via camera in the last week. I was going 31 in a 25 mile zone. When the Maryland legislature voted traffic cameras in, I was all for it. Now that I’ve gotten a ticket I am grousing about Big Brother. Sheeysh.

And really? 31 mph. Not exactly the highway to the danger zone.

At least I had my pants on.

Way past time to post!

2009-07-18T02:01:03Z

After dinner, Mr. W and I split the chores. He went outside to water my garden. I was inside doing the dishes. I thought I had the better deal, as watering the garden means getting eaten up by mosquitoes.

Plus, the stinkin Catbird still dive-bombs me every time I venture into the yard.

Then Mr. W came running in saying ‘hurry’. I dropped my sponge and zoomed outside.

There was an owl at least a foot tall nonchalantly perched on the maple tree in our front yard. We stood and looked at each other. The cardinals were in full tweet and attack mode – zooming around his head. Finally, bored with us, he gave a hop and flew off – huge wingspan and silent as could be. It was amazing, very Wild Kingdom.

We hear owls often. Sometimes they hoot from the front to the back yard in the middle of the night. It makes me laugh, esp when the kids yell ‘shut UP’ as if the owls are some sort of annoying siblings.

Then the Catbird noticed me and started to straff. I had to run for my life. Mr. W finds this hilarious. Me, not so much. Why doesn’t that Catbird pick on him?

++++++++

My Dad’s 80^th birthday party went off without a hitch. In a moment of genius, I asked people to send me ‘stories about my Dad’ in lieu of a gift. I collected a notebook full of great stories from family, friends, co-workers, college and childhood buddies. It is a treasure. My Dad is a great guy.

The party: 60 people at a beautiful venue – an old farm in the country (think Mount Vernon) with a lovely pool complete with huge screened in pool house. The weather was perfect; everyone we invited came and had a good time and it was a family reunion. PLUS – it was catered so I didn’t have to kill myself working.

After the guests left we lingered for hours, watching the sunset and having a swim in the pool. It was a lovely and loving day. I’ll hold it in my heart for a long time.

My brother had sent his 13-year-old twins to my Parents earlier in the week – talk about a wonderful birthday gift. I have never been so glad to live right up the street from my folks - the kids could run in and out 20 times a day.

They are almost 6 ft tall – beautiful, blond Californians who have been in the uber smart kid school since 3^rd grade. I’m not convinced that they really belong to my brother.

I had a great time with them and their visit was a delight for my Parents. It was nonstop boogaloo - the beach for a day, the Baltimore Aquarium, the Spy Museum. I took them to hike the Billy Goat Trail at Great Falls and let them set off bottle rockets in the back yard. They had never seen fireflies before, more proof that Maryland is better than California.

I sure hope they can come back next summer.

Now all the company is gone and there are no more big social events to anticipate. I didn’t know if I’d feel relieved or let down. So far I’m mostly just pooped from all the action. I’m going to give myself a week before I step on the scale since I don’t want to induce a heart attack. My house is upside down and I have mountains of laundry. My Son's departure for college is still far enough away to ignore.

Life is good except for the Catbird.

Happy 4th of July

2009-07-05T02:33:33Z

We take 4^th of July seriously here in Our Nation’s Capital.

The Smithsonian holds the Folk Life Festival on the mall. Think FUN activities plus the possibility of heat stroke and the reality of porta potties. There are Military Bands, multiple concerts and fireworks. Metro is packed.

Since having children, we opted for the local community parade.

We’d go every year with our kids and our beloved friends, Miss Peg, Gary and their boys. The parade was perfect – Lawnmower Precision Drill Team, Scottish/Asian bagpipe marching band and the Trinidad Steel Drum Band float. One memorable year a float caught on fire.

We’d cheer for the Lesbian/Wicca Society and clap for the elderly overweight belly dancers. There was always some baton disaster.

Everyone always stands to applaud the Veterans of Foreign Wars, the Shriners and the guy who cleans up after the horses. The fire trucks throw parade bling - candy and plastic fire hats.

The parade starts at 9:15a sharp, so you could have a great time and still get the kids home for an afternoon nap. Bonus!

Peg and Gary are in Thailand now. Our kids are grown and have their own plans. Mr. W often works because of breaking news, so for the last few years 4^th of July has been lonesome.

This year new buddies invited us to a parade party. We had so much fun. We knew enough people not to feel awkward. It was great watching the little kids running around and seeing that silly parade again. I had apple pie and mimosa at 9:30am – alcohol and sugar breakfast buzz. Talk about needing an afternoon nap!

Strolling back, we ran into friends we hadn’t seen in years (when Mr. W and I both worked at CNN the Clinton/Lewinsky scandal, impeachment, wars and the sniper, meant never saw anyone from Before). Did we want to come back to their house for food and drinks?

It had been at least 15 minutes since we last ate and why sober up?

We ended up having a lovely afternoon, sitting in a beautiful garden, catching up with people we have missed. What an unexpected gift.

Once home we hit our respective couches after taking aspirin with huge glasses of water. Who knew we could still have this much fun?

Now with the food and alcohol coma finished, I’ve realized something. This summer has been a nonstop celebration of big events. I have occasionally felt like the pig squeezing through the belly of a snake. Ok – bad analogy but still…

WRONG ATTITUDE!!

Sometimes you just get lucky and have a lot of fun. Why was I feeling guilty? I could rationalize that this is a cosmic reward for all the sinus infection and surgery crap that made me so miserable. Which is bullshit.

In reality, it has nothing to do with me and everything to do with people I love. Monday starts a weeklong family reunion culminating with my Dad’s 80th birthday bash. I’m not going to waste a minute worrying about how much I’ve eaten or if I got everything done. I’m going to have FUN.

Then I will spend the rest of July and all of August at the gym.

Life update or brain dump?

2009-06-25T20:19:06Z

Where to start? I better organize by category.

Party Nation
We hosted 70 family and friends, celebrating our Son’s graduation from high school and acceptance to North Carolina School of the Arts.

Mr. W’s band played. We ate pizza, salad and ice cream sandwiches. Kids ran around with squirt guns (front yard only!!) played with stilts and chalked graffiti on the sidewalk. Keeping to tradition, we set off bottle rockets once it got dark. It was FUN.

I kept hoping the police would come and tell us to behave, but no such luck.

Since the party, Mr. W and I celebrated our 24^th wedding anniversary. It was very romantic (<==that is sarcasm). I picked him up from metro Friday after work; we went to the local good place for dinner.

We had frozen margaritas with dinner and were asleep two hours later. Is it possible to have a fun overdose?

The same weekend I had a crowd of 10 over for Father’s Day. The following weekend I had to put on nice clothes and celebrate my fav Aunt & Uncles 50^th wedding anniversary.

Mid July is the party for my Father’s 80^th birthday. It’s a big catered affair and my brother and family are coming in from California.

After that is over, I swear, I am not going to eat ANYTHING for a month. I don’t think I’ll leave the house except to go to the gym. Having this much fun is hard work.

DC Metro
Neither my Daughter nor Mr. Wonderful were on the Metro when the accident happened, for which I am profoundly grateful. DC, MD and VA did not have coordinated, dedicated funding for the Metro system. It makes me crazy that people had to die horrible tragic unnecessary deaths to have the situation corrected.

Suddenly getting to work is hellish. Their commute, which was 35 minutes, is now 90 complete with Standing Room Only. My Daughter and Mr. W come home hours later, hot and miserable.

Medical Drama
My Son, fresh off the graduation party, had his deviated septum repaired and his adenoids yanked. He got to wear plastic splints stitched into his nose for 8 days. It was a really DISGUSTING doctor visit to have them removed. I’m currently calling him Mr. Nose, much to his chagrin.

He still wears out in about two minutes. The doctor told him he’d feel better next week, which is good because..

The Beach
My BFF of 43 (!) years has rented a place at the shore next week. Her husband can’t get away when they planned. Since I am a caring person, I have volunteered to go along with her for a few days. The kids (Mr. Nose should be fine by next week) have volunteered to come down for an overnight.

I can’t begin to convey how much I am looking forward to some mano o mano time with my BFF. She has a huge job and a Mom who suffers with poor health. I’m also pleased that my kids will have a road trip experience together. I’m packing wine, sun block and a trashy novel.

September Issue
AFI Silverdocs film festival just wrapped in our ‘hood. I caught the ‘September Issue’ documentary. It was a profile of Anna Wintour as she prepared the Vogue 2007 September Issue.

Sidebar: I loved “The Devil Wears Prada.” I come down firmly on the side of Meryl Streep.. Smart driven women are valuable and don’t have to pretend to be warm and fuzzy. The Anne Hathaway character was an immature twit.

Also - I readily confess that my entire wardrobe comes from Target and Kmart, with a side of Dress Barn (because its near my home and isn’t in a mall) for the higher end (ha) stuff like dresses and blazers. My shoes come from DSW and Payless. I wouldn’t be capable of accessorizing even if it meant the end of poverty and the beginning of world peace.

‘September Issue’ was fascinating. Vogue has a subscription base of 15 million and has been published continuously for 175 years. I had no idea that Wintour is such a powerhouse both in publishing and the fashion industry.

I love Vogue in the same way that I love science fiction – separate and apart from real life. I can’t wear the clothes or shoes, but I see art and craftsmanship when I look at the magazine. September Issue is worth the price of admission.

Party Nation

2009-06-05T19:15:33Z

Wednesday night we had 8 people here for my Son’s high school graduation dinner. I went all out – fancy linens and the good china. Thursday was the actual graduation ceremony topped off with a family lunch. Saturday night should be a rave with 70 people and Mr. Wonderful’s band. The Graduate picked the menu: pizza + ice cream sandwiches (boys are so easy) for the masses.

Every celebration for this family includes food. It’s fun, but wondering if my stomach will survive through the end of the week. Plus, even though I like to cook, Wednesday was ridiculous. I need a minion.

GWAD – I hope it quits raining. It has been hosing down for days. We’re calling it the “Wear your Boots” party, as the backyard is spongy with mud. I bought a gallon of bug spray. I also mentally waved goodbye to the acres of off-white carpeting in this house. Historical note: it was here when we bought the place so it is Not My Fault. I see a carpet cleaner rental in my future.

Last year, same weekend, we celebrated our Daughter graduating from College. It was 98 degrees – so we dubbed it the “Heatstroke” party. Late that evening there was a huge thunderstorm. Everyone retreated to the garage with their lawn chairs and didn’t leave till the last beer was gone. I remember staggering off to bed thinking I was awfully old to stay up so late.

I hope this years shindig will be as much fun. We must be insane.

Mind your Manners

2009-05-30T21:10:54Z

I love that my Daughter usually reports everything that happened to her and what she thinks about it. When she was little it was mostly Why I Bit (establish alpha status. It drove me nuts) or Who Spilled Milk at Lunch. Later it was school drama, boyfriends, college professors and dorm living. I am very lucky that she shares so much of her life with me. And quit biting.

I think of it as The Daily Report with Analysis. Always entertaining.

Now, when she walks in the door, The Daily Report w/ Analysis is usually subtitled What Happened At CNN. Historical Note: Mr. W & our Daughter work there, I used to work there.

Fact: Mr. W can’t even have a soda at work that she doesn’t report to me. It’s pretty funny.

Yesterday she came storming home steaming from her ears.

“So,” she said, pulling a popsicle from the freezer, “how was your day? Me first.” I sat down at the kitchen table to pay attention.

Her task had been ‘Guest Greeting.’ Translation: get the talking head at the security desk, shepard them through makeup, get them Miked and IFB’d (Mike is usually clipped to lapel. IFB goes into the ear so the correspondent, live producer or anchor talks into your head instead of having a face-to-face conversation.). Then she escorts into one of the studios for their airtime, known as a ‘hit’.

This particular day had been extremely busy with the Supreme Court announcement, North Korean nuclear test and California Prop 8 ruling. Plus Israelis and Palestinians were in town for White House meetings. Putting it mildly, there were a lot of Guest Talking Heads to get to air. My Daughter went to the Green Room (guest holding pen with comfortable chairs and a coffee machine) to collect Saeb Muhammad Salih Erakat for his hit.

He was drinking tea with his assistant and told her “he would go to the studio when he was done with his tea.”

“Well” she said to him “if you want to be on television you have to come now.” Another fact: television is scheduled.

Saeb Erakat remarked in Arabic to his assistant that “this pushy woman is trying to tell me what to do.” He then proceeded to make callous remarks about her anatomy and her “immodesty”. My girl had enough.

She told him IN ARABIC – “I studied Arabic at University and understand every word you and your assistant have spoken. You have lost your mind.”

Sitting in the kitchen, telling me, she still was uber-pissed.

“It was fun watching him crap himself. His assistant choked on his tea. I left them standing with their jaws hitting the floor. In that one moment, all the work I did to earn my degree more than paid for itself.”

Fact: In a television studio, people can hear you. Within seconds everyone in the newsroom knew what he has said to my Daughter. No one offered to help him, so Saeb Erakat had to mike and ifb himself and proceeded to look like a big ole tool on air. Just like he is in real life.

He did track my Daughter down after his hit to apologize. She was polite, but pointed out that he hadn’t been whispering and wouldn’t be apologizing if she didn’t speak Arabic.

She also told him, “That isn’t how women are treated in America.” He and his assistant couldn’t scamper away fast enough.

“He took one look at everyone watching in the newsroom didn’t even go back to makeup to get wiped. Good riddance.”

Hit time is hit time. Watch what you say. Being polite is always the better option.

College Admissions and Hickeys

2009-05-28T18:10:33Z

On the way to the gym today I had a mental ‘feh’, turned around and came home. I did some work in the garden. While I was wrestling with deer netting, the phone rang.

Strange because 1)no one uses the hard line anymore except my Parents and 2)I wasn’t in the potty which is the only time that phone ever rings. I dropped the netting and sprinted into the house.

It was the North Carolina School of the Arts asking if my Son was still interested in attending (he’d been wait-listed). Huge Yes. I called Mr. W and we hooted. Then we worried about the expense.

It took two voice messages to scare my Son into calling me back. Since he was almost home, I hopped into the car and ran him down. Seeing me jump out of the car had him in worry-face.

“Holy Crap,” I said to him, “are those hickeys.” Cue stammering, denial and red-faced embarrassment.

“I am going to torture you for YEARS. We get to have the sex talk again. But meanwhile – you got into NCSA!”

We made enough noise to disturb traffic driving by on the busy street.

Or maybe they just noticed my ‘Innocent Bystander’ T shirt.

And just like that, everything changes. He called his Dad to share. I got on the phone and said from now till they fade, we would be calling our Son Mr. Hickey.

Everyone wins. Especially me, the next time I see the girlfriend. Hee.

Beware of the Bird

2009-05-21T00:28:16Z

Party season is proceeding smoothly in Empresspatti land. Each day I scurry, armed with a list, to Get Things Done.

I feel great – the sinus surgery is 8 weeks past and I’m healed. I finally have my stamina back. I can breathe through my nose, which is a revelation. The 140 days of antibiotic before surgery, which made me feel awful, is also a distant memory.

Being healthy is fun.

The world-class horrendo haircut I got the day before my surgery is finally grown out. Jeeze Louise, no one noticed the post surgical tampon type wedges packed into my nose because they were thinking, “did she cut her hair with a lawnmower?”

My Daughter introduced me to the home spa treatment known to legions of middle-aged women as ‘waxing the upper lip.’ You might have heard the scream mid-day. I think she was really trying to remove my upper lip.

I’m housebound till the swelling and redness go away. No point in scaring people in public. Because I was hiding at home with an ice pack, I was available when my BFF called. She has a high-pressure job and a Mom with dementia, so moments to laugh on the phone are rare. Our friendship had made me happy for 43 years, so it’s worth the wait till she has time to chat.

My Son went off to Prom looking pretty enough to knock girls off their sling backs. His date was adorable. Looking at him, all dressed up in his new suit, I thought to myself ‘those teeth really were worth $6,500 of braces + $1,500 of wisdom teeth extraction.

Who knew anything that started that small and cute could be so expensive? I got good value for my investment.

Mentioning this observation to my husband was a mistake. “You are always so mushy,” Mr. W told me. “You ooze sentiment. Try and contain yourself.”

Getting sniffy is not the way I roll. But I digress from my digressions.

Our front yard is currently dominated by a Catbird who objects to me. Sitting on the porch with coffee or getting the mail is risky and triggers repeated dive bombings. This bird sits in the tree and waits for me to show. She lets loose with a big squak every time she sees me. It’s embarrassing to have something that small boss me around so much.

My entire garden is covered with deer netting (further proof I am insane). We have a herd of 10 that check every night for any goodies that might have poked out of the netting. It is unreal. Why doesn’t the Catbird object to them?

Nature has it in for me.

There is no such thing as a bad nap

2009-05-08T02:10:36Z

My dear Miss Peg just called to say that she was safely returned to Thailand after a 28-hour commute. We had a good visit even though she was in country for a funeral. She had to crank her metabolism through a 12-hour time difference immediately. Her life is such fun sometimes.

Luckily, we managed to bore her into sleep at night. Plus - We flopped down on the couches every day at 3p like it was our religion.

I always think of 3p as horizontal time. I need a 20-minute brain rezoning. Then I’m good to go again. In my former life, I used to yawn loudly during afternoon meetings. Truly, any time can be nap time.

As a personal gift from the Gods to Miss Peg, every day here was cool with a side of hosing rain. Miss Peg wore sweatpants and sweatshirts, wool socks and a fleece jacket. She covered up with a light blanket. I sat around in jeans and a short sleeve t-shirt. Mocking her kept me warm.

In Thailand, Miss Peg reported tonight, it was 94 degrees at midnight. I’m going to hate the heat when I visit.

My Daughter and I are planning to go to Thailand in October. I will be the hot, fat, sweaty farong who towers over everyone else on the sidewalk. The two of us couldn’t be more excited. Miss Peg promises me a bout of food poisoning to augment my weight loss ambitions.

My favorite fantasy is to win the lottery and take off around the world immediately. I love the feeling of being someplace I’ve never been, hearing a language I don’t understand. I like the lost, fuddled feeling of travel. I think its because I’ve lived in the same place all my life.
++++
Today I took inventory of What I Have To Do This Summer. So far: Son’s 18^th birthday (paintball and pizza), then his high school graduation (company & event cooking) and then the graduation PAR-Tay. He asked his Dad’s band to play. Mr. W is over the moon with the compliment. I’m planning on ordering pizza for 50. I can’t cook hamburgers + everything else for that many people anymore because I’m old. The end.

Also - Mr. W and I have our 24^th wedding anniversary. My Dad turns 80, complete with party, to which my Mom says: you do it. All this celebrating is compressed into the weeks between Memorial Day and early July. Who knew I was such a party animal?

Notes

2009-04-29T01:10:08Z

It has been 45 minutes since dinner, so now my Son is back in the kitchen having a bowl of cereal. At 6’ tall and 145 lbs – he is starving All.The.Time. I used to feel sorry for him. Now I’m resentful. Will I still be fretting about my weight when I’m 90?

Le sigh.

It’s been a good week for notes on the kitchen table. My Son left me a note yesterday – “Out setting things on fire. Home for dinner.” Smartass.

I got home today to a huge note saying – “DO NOT OPEN THE FRONT DOOR.

I called my Daughter’s cell. “What’s the up?"

“Mom, I trapped a bee the size of a sharpie marker between the door and the screen. It was a cage match, me in my bathrobe flapping around the house, trying to get away from beezilla. Whatever you do, don’t let it back in the house.”

It was a bumblebee at least 4 inches long, really pissed. I flung open the screen door and ran for my life. That sucker chased me around the yard. I was shrieking and flapping my arms when it flew off over the treetops. It was prolly chasing the hawk.

The all time great note went to Mr. W.

Years ago, he found a note on the kitchen table saying, “get them” with an arrow pointing at two plastic hand grenades. The minute he picked them up our Son, then 8, popped out of the slot between the fridge and the wall where we keep the broom. Apparently it was a pitched battle, brawling around the house. Mr. W still has the note – a treasure.

Tomorrow I retrieve my beloved Miss Peg from the airport. She will be a mess, 27 hour plane ride from Thailand, a funeral in St. Louis and then onward to me in DC. I have a whole lot of NOTHING planned for us. I think she’ll be glad to have a quiet space, cooler temps, sushi with a side of movies.

Note to self: I am a very lucky person.

Karl Rove, Corvettes and enjoying Bad Manners

2009-04-18T13:24:20Z

I was RUDE. You've been warned.

This Friday was the Best Day in a long time. I had a great workout, then took metro to Union Station, meeting a CNN buddy for lunch. We haven’t seen each other since I had sinus surgery and her Mom had a stroke. We had a lot to talk about. Mostly we just laughed, which sounds callous, but if you can’t be deadpan and cynical in the face of awful, what is life anyway?

SO I hugged her good-bye and was zooming past the Amtrak towards metro when my phone rang. Digging into my purse I collided with someone hard enough that we both bounced back and looked at each other.

There stood Karl Rove (Chief of Staff - Bush White House/GOP Commentator). “Damn,” I said, “No escort? How the mighty have fallen. And me without a beverage to throw at you.” I continued to grin toothily as he very carefully backed up and walked around me.

Yup, very rude. So much fun.

Next stop was meeting my daughter for a movie (State of Play – real good. Esp for two political junkie newshounds).

I was sitting on a bench outside the movie theatre, waiting for my Daughter, enjoying the sunshine and people watching. What to my wondering eyes does appear but a full bore mid-life crisis, driving a metallic, lime green convertible corvette, complete with extra farty muffler. All he needed was his radio blasting Cher singing ‘If I Could Turn Back Time.’

For all his posturing and trolling, there wasn’t anyone in his demographic to impress. It was mostly a very racially diverse crowd of teenagers, senior citizens and Moms with little kids. Daytime people, not at work.

I watched him make a three point turn and come back for more cruising. He ruffled his muffler at my Daughter (a knockout, even if I wasn't her Mom) who was walking down the street towards me. He made no impression, as she was passing a window display of spring shoes.

Then he passed me. “Don’t worry.” I called out, “You don’t look ridiculous at ALL.” I’m sure it earned me bad karma, but seeing him roar in a thunder of farting muffler sounds was really funny.

My Girl and I had a great time. I bought two pairs of summer shoes, which made her wonder Where Her Real Mother Was. She got a cute sweater on super sale. We both got big, dark, movie star sunglasses. Mr. Wonderful met us for dinner. I recounted my big day of bad manners.

“You’ve never looked so good.” I told him. “I like a man who relies on intelligence and humor to impress people, rather than a tin can with wheels.”

“You’re just sucking up because I caught you using my toothbrush.”

“Again,” I told him, “I’m so sorry. I can’t even brush my teeth anymore before coffee.”