Diva on Hold

Like every woman, I have an inner diva. She is bedecked in baubles, and frilly frocks, and pretty shoes, all the time. Even in bed. This diva rarely comes out. Maybe once a year for the Holiday Ball, and perhaps on days when I am making a casserole for dinner and baking a cake for dessert. I do wear my pretty aprons and pretty shoes and pretty jewelry then. Ok, I wear pretty jewelry to do laundry. I seldom go out, so I have to wear it when I can. Some of you do it too, I bet.

The dream....

Anyway, I had to put The Diva on hold again. The first time was with Eldest. She needed a long evening gown with a “tail”, for a runway show. We searched high and low, and finally found a divine creation that fit her well. A divine creation by Badgley Mischka. Now, on my List of Things to Do Before I Die™, I have this at #53: own a gown by Badgley Mischka. But who gets one before I do?? Yeah, I let it go after a few months minutes.

I thought the designer stuff was over with, since Eldest is pretty good about keeping to off-the-rack and vintage stuff. But of course, I have three children. And this time, my son was in need. His orchestral attire consists of a black suit. Now, for some people this is easy peasy. But he is so tall and thin, I finally had to resort to going to a men’s store, where the suit and pants could be tailored to fit. We find one that is close enough to his size to need only a few alterations. A suit by Michael Kors.

It’s like the Universe was laughing at me.

But like any good mom, we do what’s best for our children. Designer clothing isn’t the norm for my kids, but sometimes one has to make exceptions. In both cases, I either had earned discounts or the item was on clearance, so that helped tremendously. Still, my wish for a Diva outing has to stay on hold for a while.

And the reality...

Besides, the Reality is soooo much more comfortable 😉

A Fine Romance

We are all raised to believe that a romance is when a guy posing as a prince comes to rescue a girl posing as a damsel in distress. She weeps in helplessness, he comes in and finds a way to rescue her from whatever malaise she suffers, and they ride off into the sunset, happily ever after.

What horsepuckey!!

Yes, I said it. HORSEPUCKEY!!!

Don’t get me wrong. I read trashy bodice-ripper novels all the time. They make excellent bathtub reading material, and help to keep me sane by giving me some much needed brain candy. But I know Real Life™ doesn’t work that way. A true romance has pitfalls, and anger, and sadness, and joy, and laughter, and misunderstandings, and things that make you go “Hmm….”. Real romance may have flowers and candy sometimes, but more often than not, it has oil changes and beer. Sometimes it has jewelry, but more than likely it will have an installed dishwasher.

True romance is about knowing each other, and still wanting to be with each other, warts and all 🙂

Here I Go Again…

Time again for a birthday party. Yay, me…

This time, it’s for Little One. She is….more picky. At first, she wanted a zombie party, complete with a tombstone shaped cake. Two days later, she changed her mind. She wanted a masquerade party: costumes, masks, the works. Three days after that, she wanted a spa party sleepover. It’s crunch time, so I’m planning for the spa party. A sleepover spa party….

I shall be the manicurist and facial expert, and Eldest is slated to be the hair stylist and masseuse. Cucumbers will be sliced and cooled, ready to go on puffy eyes once I have applied a fruit masque. While that dries, I shall be giving each girl a quick manicure, while Eldest gives footsie massages to tired toes. And once all the gunk is washed off, we shall enjoy birthday cupcakes!!

In the morning, we shall be having pancakes, do some last minute pampering and hair styling, and then the girls will leave with their very own little spa kit. Thank goodness for Bath and Body Works™.

In the afternoon, I shall be breaking in my new wine glass 😉

Superstition Silliness

Here in Texas we love rain. It’s like a long-lost friend: you remember it fondly, and rejoice when you see it. This past weekend we got a healthy visit from our long-lost friend. Let’s just say, my front lawn no longer looks like a fire hazard.

Anyway, a few days before that, we had a freak storm come through. I went to pick up the kids at the high school, when the skies opened, the wind whipping the rain sideways. It was glorious!!!! Unfortunately, not for the kids. Eldest was in ROTC uniform, and son had his instrument and couldn’t shield his face from the onslaught. But they make it to the car, and off we go slowly, not just because of the school zone, but because some people around here freak out when there is water falling from the sky.

We get home, and I instruct the kids to take hot showers ASAP. Son goes off with no complaint, but Eldest decides to just change into her PJs and a robe. Whereupon Momma freaks out:

Me: Eldest, you need to take a shower, now!

Eldest: But Mom, I’m already dry.

Me: Doesn’t matter. Go get in a hot shower.

Eldest: But why??

Me: I don’t want you catching a cold.

Eldest: …….

Me: It’s an old wives’ tale. Just do it!!

Eldest: Mom, you know I’ll be fine.

Me: Go take your shower before you catch your death of cold!!!

Eldest: (sigh)

Yes, I well know that you get a common cold from a virus. I also know the reason we associate catching a cold to being wet is due to winter, and dry air lowering the body’s resistance to the virus. I KNOW THIS, PEOPLE!!!!

But it doesn’t matter. It’s ingrained, and I will enforce it until the day I die. Or until the kids move out.

Whichever comes first 😉

El-Oh-El-Ay, LOLA!!

As some of y’all may know by now, I love Lolita glasses. For those who don’t know, they are whimsical hand-painted drinkware, and serveware. I collect the wine and martini glasses. Lolita makes glasses for every season, and Halloween is no different. Last year, she had several designs, including “Bloodshot”, “Pumpkin Potion”, and “Witches Party” glasses. I like my glasses to be seasonal, but subtle enough to be used year round. Last year I got the “Masquerade Too”, which is very pretty, but not as pretty as this year’s:

“Masquerade 3” is done in deep dark shades of red and burgundy, almost maroon!!! Now you may ask… why would I get this glass, when I have a Masquerade one already?

Sunday Sithy

I’m tired. A really strong, loud storm came through and Lenny was very frightened. She kept me up since 4 AM and I feel and look like a zombie.

But I can’t not have a post for today (is that even grammatically correct??), so here is some cute Sithy!

I hope there’s enough coffee for today 😀

Unlucky Strikes

The best laid plans of mice and moms often fail.

Last night was the Homecoming game for Eldest and Son’s high school. We were getting ready to go, but the kitchen still had to be cleaned up. Eldest is in charge of washing the dishes, and as she was washing a glass, it slipped and broke, while she tried to catch it. The result?

My baby had a deep gash that required stitches, the first time in her young life. Four heart-wrenching stitches to her mom. But she took it all like a trooper, and even told the doctor that she would be able to get her own stitches out, because she has had experience doing it. Hubby has sure taught the kids the basics on first aid.

We missed Homecoming game, but there’s always Homecoming dance tonight!

And no, she won’t be washing dishes for a while!!

UPDATE!

Looks like The Real Dave needs a bandaid 😉

Homecoming!! Rah, Rah, Rah!!

Today is Homecoming for one of our district high schools. The kids are all excited, because it means they get to sit outside and enjoy a football game while eating all manner of junkfood and sodas for dinner. I’m excited because I don’t have to cook. As The Queen dictated, everyone should go enjoy a high school football game! The most wonderful part about a high school football game is the support for the teams, even when they are losing.

That, and the fact that we don’t have to worry about a Lockout, or some such silly thing.

One thing that is traditional here in Texas, is the Homecoming Mum. When I went to school, back in the Iron Age, your date bought you the mum, which consisted of actual chrysanthemums. He went to the flower shop, ordered however many mums he wanted, with whatever amount of ribbons, along with sundry embellishments like little cowbells, whistles, footballs, chains, etc. The tackier, the better! But as time progressed, and brought us into the Internet Age, things changed.

Ok, the tackiness survived. But nowadays, the wearer of the mum is responsible for making her own. Some young men still go out and purchase a mum for their dates, but overwhelmingly, the gals make their own. I miss the gallantry, if it can be called that, of a young man going out of his way to order a fresh mum for his girl, but on the other hand, I do like the way young women let their creativity flow when they make these ornate decorations. The flowers have since been replaced with silk ones, but that just means they can last forever 🙂

On Etiquette

No, I don’t even pretend to be Emily Post. I don’t even pretend to be the most well-mannered person. But there are some things that just get under my skin, and tend to make my blood boil out through my pores.

If you call me, call to talk to me, not to another person in the room, with whom you choose to get into an argument while I listen to the taudry details of whether or not you owned a particular brand of skillet. I do NOT care.

If you decide to drive on the left lane, please be aware that you are supposed to go a bit faster than the other people in the other lanes, because it is for passing. Don’t be a left lane vigilante and force the rest of humanity to go three miles under the speed limit out of the goodness of your heart. If I want a ticket, I will damn well earn it.

If the check-out line is for ten items or less, and you have 11 or 12 items, it’s no big deal to me. If you have a cartful of stuff, it becomes an issue. If you insist that you have a right to check out in that line because you are a taxpayer, or because you are in a hurry, it will cause a detonation of your milk jug all over your head.

While I am glad you wear boxers, I am NOT glad to see it. It is referred to as underwear for a reason. Unless you happen to be Heidi Klum or Jason Statham, pull your pants up and use a belt. You look like a convict.

If you are driving a vehicle that is capable of major damage, and even death, don’t use your freakin’ cellphone. Pull the hell over and answer it. And while you’re at it, put the damn thing away if you are eating at my table. I will toss the cellphone in the trash disposer if you insist on using it while eating dinner in my home.

Sigh…ok, I think I will stop for now. Too early for a beer.

But not too early for cookies 😀

Cheap Therapy

A friend of mine was telling me a few weeks ago about her time in therapy. Now, my idea of “therapy” is not the same as hers. She had explained that she had attended therapy with a psychiatrist three times a week for a few years. At first I felt awful, not knowing what to say to her, thinking the trauma in her life must have been catastrophic. When I asked her what had happened, as gently as I could, she told me she went to a therapist in order to learn to relax.

Now, I will say that therapists do tend to help people with problems, but going to one for three times a week for years to learn to relax??

When doing this is cheaper and more satisfying??

Or this??

Or even this??

Consider this your free relaxation therapy.

Following sessions will cost extra, if needed 🙂