Sunday, October 30, 2011
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
This is one of our wedding pictures. Nice, huh? I really like all of them, and we have a whole book full. My supremely talented brother-in-law took them and you can tell he’s good because I don’t look like an ogre OR a haggard wretch, which are the two most common results when I have my picture taken. I like to delude myself into thinking I have a fairly pleasant countenance, but one could be forgiven for not realizing this after looking at almost every single picture ever taken of me. I bring this up for a reason. I mean a real one, not just to boast about my beautiful wedding pictures.
The other day, Weston asked me what would happen if people weren’t married but lived together long enough to have a baby. I’m not sure what thought process prompted the question but I tried to provide a suitable answer. A few hours went by and he asked me if Lloyd and I were married or if we just lived together. I assured him that, indeed, we are married, and brought out the album so he could see the pictures. The book starts out with pictures of us getting ready, and there is one of me in hot rollers. ‘WHAT ARE THOSE?!?!?!’ he shrieked. I explained, and then he turned the page. ‘Are you wearing MAKEUP?!?!?!?’ He then informed me that the makeup make me look wrinkly and old and that my dress was outrageous and ridiculous. For the record, my wearing makeup has met with his enthusiastic approval in the past, so I’m not really sure what’s up with that. Also, I am quite unclear on how I could look older and more wrinkly in a picture taken more than ten years ago than I do today, regardless of how much makeup I had spackled on. Hey! Maybe my recent bathroom renovations are paying off already! You know, when I smashed the mirror AND the lightbulbs in there. He later doubled down on these comments, adding that I looked hideous and disgusting in the pictures.
As depressing as that was, I think I might have a bigger problem. Lately I have fielded MANY questions about why people who are related can’t get married. I tried to explain about the crossed eyes, the banjos and West Virginia, but it didn’t seem to sink in. In fact, he said, ‘ I LIKE banjos!’ I'm not sure who he has in mind, but I've always planned for him to marry a little charmer named Ella. She's cute and brilliant and we're very fond of her. One of the favored dolls around here is named after her, so that seems promising. Another point in her favor is that we are not related in any way to her wonderful family*. I can lower my expectations, if I have to, but we could definitely benefit from improvements to the Dead Cat Family gene pool. I don't want a bunch of ugly grandchildren, after all.
*if you clicked on the link to the story where my makeup was pleasant surprise, please note that the more attractive friend/neighbor was Ella's mother. They are both lovely in every way, as is the rest of their family.
Sunday, October 23, 2011
*not to go all Oprah on you here
Friday, October 21, 2011
You know, lots of times I don't post because I don't have a cohesive topic. I really like it when I have an idea and I can sit and think about it and then turn out an actual single subject essay of respectable length. Sadly, though, those days are few and far between, and what I have instead is some ridiculous mishmash that doesn't seem to fit together AT ALL. The ridiculous mishmash part pretty much describes every single aspect of my life but somehow I only find it bothersome when it comes to writing.
So, on to the mishmash. Today I was getting ready for work and looking in the mirror. My teeny, tiny mirror in a dim bathroom. Usually I'm very pleased with what I see in my miniscule mirror in my darkened powder room, but today I saw something that disturbed me. I KNOW they are not crow's feet, because the tiny mirror/dark room technique successfully removes any trace of those nasty things. Nope, these are something way WORSE. There's probably not even a name for them, and since I discovered them, I get to name them. That's how it works, you know. So I hereby christen them 'pterodactyl feet'. They're exactly like you would imagine them. I didn't google it to make sure I made it up because I would be sorely disappointed to find out that someone else had helped herself to my idea before I thought of it. Sometimes I hate the internet. Obviously, now I have to spend the weekend retrofitting my bathroom. My mirror is too big, and there is too much light in there. Another few years and I might have to start altering my vision instead of the environment. Or maybe the pterodactyl feet will cause my eyes to permanently squinch shut. One can only hope, right?
Then I came to work with my new friends, the pterodactyl feet, in tow. We still haven't moved. The move date is mere days away and there are still no boxes. We have had a few burly guys in overalls traipsing through, so I guess that's a good sign. We had an event today, and I got to be in charge of raffle tickets. Can you believe that? It's like they've never even met me! Everyone in the office shuffled by my office, eyeing the shrink-wrapped roll of tickets. It makes me think of this Nancy Drew book I read where Nancy and her pals George and Bess bust this ring of raffle scammers. The winning ticket had a staple in it, and the crook that drew the tickets out was wearing a ring with a magnet in it. Brilliant, eh? Of course they were no match for the titian-haired Nancy Drew and crew. Oh, man, I used to LOVE Nancy Drew and the Hardy Boys. I read them voraciously, then I would be so terrified that my mother had to walk me down the hallway to the bathroom, even in broad daylight. Did you know that the Nancy Drew mysteries were not actually written by Carolyn Keene? Likewise, the Hardy Boys stories were not written by Franklin Dixon. I find this sort of disturbing, but I'm not sure why I care. I guess I like to think my books have been conceived and delivered by a real person, instead of the Milli Vanilli of the publishing world.
Anyway, as it turned out, I didn't even get to participate, because I decided that it would look bad if I won one of the prizes, and even worse if I won two. And also, I locked my keys in the car. I'm never volunteering again, so that should take care of THAT. Have a great weekend! The pterodactyl feet and I will be in the bathroom, renovating. I'm thinking a sander might come in handy. One of those big ones. See you next week!