Saturday, February 19, 2011

How We are On Top of Sh*t

Carl: Hey, did we call The Oil Company for a delivery?
Me: No. *We* didn't. We were totally busy doing...other...stuff. Important stuff. Stuff that couldn't wait.
Carl: Ok, no one take showers. Or do laundry. Or dishes. Or require hot water. Because you need oil for all of that.
Me: (paraphrased) I guess *we* suck. *We* will now call all of the oil companies in the area. Because this is a holiday weekend, no one will answer. Why do *we* suck so much??
Carl: Ok, The Oil Company that I called will come. There's a $100 off-hours service charge. This will cost us six hundred dollars, total.
Me: eff.
Carl: That's like, your whole tax return.
Me: EFF.


Marc: Damn. No leather hot pants this week.

Wednesday, February 16, 2011

Family Outing that Ends Well (really!) Part 2

Beating a hasty retreat from the manic and useless phone store, we swerved right to check out the cute-looking Indian cafe/bakery. You see, while we dislike change and mandatory acceptance of technology, we love Indian food.

We were greeted by a bakery case full of gorgeous pastries and pictures of attractive little "mini-meals," all non-threatening and bright and delicious-but no one was behind the counter. We looked around and looked at each other and waited, as Wendy's chatter became more and more demanding: she really would rather go to the other place and eat a sandwich or a hot dog. The other place. THE OTHER PLACE THAT IS NOT THIS PLACE WHERE THERE IS A SANDWICH. OR A HOT DOG OR A SANDWICH AT THE OTHER PLACE THE OTHER PLACE THE OTHER PLACE.

Still, no one came out to take our order. So we left and went to the other place, on the other side of the phone store.

The other place was a deli/diner full of dark booths crammed with little groups of proper old ladies and besuited pudgy men. They were all slurping on overpriced corned beef specials and french onion soup, daring me with dour glances to do something totally unacceptable like breastfeed my baby in their diner so they could throw spoons and boo at me. Not really. But that's how I feel whenever I find myself in a less-than-comfortable setting for breastfeeding.

Like everyone is looking and about to start shit. They aren't, I know. Mostly.

Wendy ordered a hot dog, Carl ordered a sandwich, I ordered a cup of hot chocolate and declared that I did NOT WANT TO BE THERE, and spent a very long half-hour clutching the baby and willing him to stay asleep in his little bear suit while Wendy whined that she was "not used to her hot dog cut in half. Nope. Not used to it at all. I don't know if I can eat it like this. All cut up. Who cuts a hot dog up?"

On the way home, Carl asked if there was anything that would make me feel better. Wine? Something from the drive-through?

"Pie. I think I need a lot of pie. Probably lemon meringue. Or apple. I don't care. Just pie."

And that is how our family outing ends well. We didn't get phones. We didn't get a vacuum roller like we planned. We ate somewhere crappy when we could have eaten somewhere nice. We had to drive home in rush hour traffic.

But we ended up at home with two pies, and I couldn't have been happier.

Monday, February 14, 2011

Don't Worry, It Ends Well

Since the baby was born, Carl and I have been tag-teaming on chores that require us to leave the house. No one at the grocery store sees us together any more. They speculate in hushed whispers as soon as we walk away about why we would have broken up. We were such a cute couple!

Friday, we decided to go out and get new phones! Together! You should know that both of us hate change and don't respond well to pushy sales people, so obviously, this was going to be a blast.

Plus, we had both Wendy and Fuzzwolf in tow. Oh yeah.

I don't think I really need a new phone. I would like one with a better camera, but really? I'm pretty happy with the one that Carl bought me five years ago. (Did I tell you that I hate change? I do.) It turns out that all the good phones now have internet with internet plans that you have to pay for, and I don't care about having internet on my phone. Internet on Mo's phone would lead to Mo making bad decisions about what to do when driving gets boring.

By the time we had played with all four non-internet phones in the store and found reasons not to like any of them, the place had filled up with demanding people and their large handbags, Wendy had found a friend of similar shortness with whom to do gymnastics in the phone store, and Le Fuzz had woken up and was waving his fists around with threats of DOOM! DOOM TO COME! if we left him in the bear suit and car seat for very much longer.

So we left. We left with phones in our pockets so old, they are really excited about the new Doctor Who, and still wonder when we'll get ever get a black president.

Fuzztastic is getting all crank-pants. Part 2 of our first family outing coming soon.

Monday, February 07, 2011

One Month

glossy green-gray ocean pebble
still changing

furrowed, concerned
serious aversion to sleep and sanity from 10:30 PM to 1:30AM

intense stare

quiet recognition
sudden smiles from the crook of my arm
(both new)

one month

on the Earth

my baby love

Wednesday, February 02, 2011

How We are Pioneer Mountain Women


The News: HOLY SH*T, everyone, LOOK at this storm coming! There will be ICE, people, ICE covered DOOM from above! Nobody drive! Everyone freak out!

Erin's School: OMG! ICE? Everyone stay home!
Weather: *crickets*
The News: no, no, LATER today. Later, there will be the Doomsicles.

Me: Oh. I guess I'll go do the panic shopping. And, while I'm out, I should probably dig the firewood out of the pile of snow and put it on the porch so we can use it when our house is enclosed in the Icy Doom that Cometh. Erin, watch the kid.

Erin: Coolio.
Me: *digs and stacks like a pioneer mountain person*

Erin: Hey can I be a pioneer mountain person, too?

Me: Certainly, for IceDoom approches, and will be upon us before your father is home from the bringing of income. Stack this stuff, oh, fellow pioneer woman of fortitude!
And she did. We rock.

Behold, the Ice. The Ice fortold by Cecily Tynan and Action News. The Ice. Of Doom.

Pretty, no?