Comet and I are going to a matinee of Suessical with my cousin Fancy and her seventeen year-old son, GQ, and truth be told, I was feeling a bit drab and I decided to wear a little makeup. I haven't worn makeup since my wedding seven years ago, but I decided I needed a little "collah." Of course, the makeup I am wearing is at least seven years old or older. I didn't put on much mind you, but I think the mascara wand had a life of it's own! Now I have little spider leg eyelashes and I feel oddly pale and my lips seem too pinky. The truth is I always end up feeling like I'm in drag when I dabble in girliness. Fancy, who is glamorous and knows her eyeliner from a hole in the ground, will have to come to my rescue.
I'm going to give Fancy a multiple choice quiz when she arrives. Two questions:
1. Do I look a.) great, b.) like a sad clown or, c.) like Gene Simmons on the KISS reunion tour?
2 Do you a.) think there is hope for me, b.) think there is help for me, c.) think we have time
for me to scrub this crap off?
Oh, how I enjoy being a girl!
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Friday, February 27, 2009
Overheard On A Play Date
On the trolley, going downtown with Comet's pre-school class:
Comet: "How old is your dad, Loki?"
Loki shrugs and continues poking his twin brother, Joki.
Comet (bragging): "My dad is forty!"
Curly: "My dad is forty-two."
Comet (triumphantly): "Well, my Mom is FORTY-THREE!"
I knew I was the best at *something*!
MK
Comet: "How old is your dad, Loki?"
Loki shrugs and continues poking his twin brother, Joki.
Comet (bragging): "My dad is forty!"
Curly: "My dad is forty-two."
Comet (triumphantly): "Well, my Mom is FORTY-THREE!"
I knew I was the best at *something*!
MK
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Giving it up for Lent
For some reason, probably tied to my "Voodoo Catholic" upbringing, I have the urge to give something up for Lent. I'm not looking to suffer, mind you. I'm already on Weight Watchers and will not be giving up anything that I'm still allowed to ingest. Those Very Filling Foods are mine, ALL MINE! So back off, or I'll whack you with a celery stalk!
I digress. For some reason, I really like old junk and I don't know how it came to this. It could have been fine art, fine wine or even stamps, but nooooooo, I had to pick used clothing and old books! Around the world, people are forgoing the pleasures of tobacco, alcohol and dessert in this Lenten season. So, I'm going to hit myself where I live! For the forty days of Lent, I have decided to stay out of thrift stores!
Yes, nosing around thrift stores is one of my main hobbies, but I need to go on a junk-free diet. Even when I really score at the Goodwill, we just end up with more stuff in the house. And we have stuff galore! I have so much stuff I forget what I have. Opening a closet around here is like Christmas. A Waltons/Little House on the Prairie kind of crap Christmas, but fun in a tiny, warmy way. (Oooh! Sealing wax and a frayed bungee cord! I love you, Pa!) So, I'm off the stuff!
And it will be hard for me. It really will. I likes me some old stuff, yes indeedy! It will hurt! And so, as most penitents are wont to ask,"What's in it for me? " This sacrifice will probably net me about 10 free hours over the next forty days, in 15 minute increments. I wonder what I will do to "kill" those extra minutes when there's not enough time to go home between errands. I'll probably end up reading or knitting in my car or going to Starbucks and spending twice as much as I would on a thrift store blouse for a venti latte. So less junk, a tiny bit more time, with a little more spending thrown in, just to make me feel less deprived. That's what it's going to get me. I feel more holy already.
Note: We will be hosting a yardsale to benefit Comet's preschool at the end of April, so I'll be able to do a whole Lent's worth of clutter collecting in a minutes in my own front yard. Praise be!
How did I ever get so interesting?
I digress. For some reason, I really like old junk and I don't know how it came to this. It could have been fine art, fine wine or even stamps, but nooooooo, I had to pick used clothing and old books! Around the world, people are forgoing the pleasures of tobacco, alcohol and dessert in this Lenten season. So, I'm going to hit myself where I live! For the forty days of Lent, I have decided to stay out of thrift stores!
Yes, nosing around thrift stores is one of my main hobbies, but I need to go on a junk-free diet. Even when I really score at the Goodwill, we just end up with more stuff in the house. And we have stuff galore! I have so much stuff I forget what I have. Opening a closet around here is like Christmas. A Waltons/Little House on the Prairie kind of crap Christmas, but fun in a tiny, warmy way. (Oooh! Sealing wax and a frayed bungee cord! I love you, Pa!) So, I'm off the stuff!
And it will be hard for me. It really will. I likes me some old stuff, yes indeedy! It will hurt! And so, as most penitents are wont to ask,"What's in it for me? " This sacrifice will probably net me about 10 free hours over the next forty days, in 15 minute increments. I wonder what I will do to "kill" those extra minutes when there's not enough time to go home between errands. I'll probably end up reading or knitting in my car or going to Starbucks and spending twice as much as I would on a thrift store blouse for a venti latte. So less junk, a tiny bit more time, with a little more spending thrown in, just to make me feel less deprived. That's what it's going to get me. I feel more holy already.
Note: We will be hosting a yardsale to benefit Comet's preschool at the end of April, so I'll be able to do a whole Lent's worth of clutter collecting in a minutes in my own front yard. Praise be!
How did I ever get so interesting?
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
White Woman Complaining numero uno
Gameguy will be (5 miles) away at a board game convention this week and I'm turning up the heat! No, I'm not going to exercise for four hours a day or have a torrid affair in his semi-absence. I am, literally, turning up the heat, as in the thermostat! Sixty-nine tropical degrees! It's the least I can do for myself as I will be an almost solo parent this week.
Now before you go feeling sorry for me, don't! Gameguy does more than his share of parent work and holds a full-time job. Also, he's a homebody, so when other husbands are heading to the golf course or their favorite fishin' hole or waterin' hole, he's right here, ready to let me take an emergency nap. He doesn't even have commuter time to himself, unless you count the walk down the stairs from his office. He can bring home the bacon, and if necessary, will fry it up in a pan without complaint. His board game hobby is wholesome (at least the games he lets me see ) and he loves to share it with his family. Gameguy is all that and a bag of chips (potato or poker).
Like I said, don't feel sorry for me. Just let me do it for you! My complaints for today are that it is too cold, my house is not heating up fast enough, my technology is failing me (sassafrassin' cell phone won't make or take calls), and that's all I got. No, Wait! One of our cats is peeing on things: laundry, expensive yarn, my dresser. Quick call CSI, "Cat Scene Investigation!" How funny am I? But hear this, Dolce and Percy: as soon as there is a home DNA testing kit, somebody's furry little ass is grass. (Translation: I will be very cross with you and tell you so in no uncertain terms. Then I will wait, quietly seething and resenting, until you DIE OF OLD AGE! Take that, treacherous feline! Be afraid....very afraid! Hey, stop licking yourself and listen to me!)
Oh! Oh! I also have a couple of dilemmas! First, I would like to move, somewhere close by because I love the town, *or* even better, demolish our lovely, old, nearly historic home and build an airtight, hotbox with a huge jacuzzi tub, a sunroom, a large gameroom for my boys and a working fireplace. Maybe it would also have an extra-warm room for me that is just mine, and no one better go in there unless I invite them in! Also, I would drain our marshy yard, or plant a rice paddy.
Dilemma number two is more amorphous. It's the what "what will I do with my life" thing. This is something I've felt forever, even when I was formally employed, until I got pregnant. When the bun was in the oven, I felt that I was doing enough for the world and continued to feel that way until tha last year or so when Comet suddenly became a kid! Now Comet goes to school for a full day next year, and it's not like I'm gonna do more housework to while away the hours! I was talking about this with Gameguy and mentioned that when I had more free time, I could, in theory, clean more. Oh, how we laughed! How we chuckled! It really *is* that funny. It's a dang laugh riot!
But I am concerned about what to do with my time, which I know is a nice dilemma to have. Oh sure I could get a job, but I've been out of "the force" for years, I can't remember if I have any mad skills, and with the job market as tight as it is, I don't think I'm in demand. Financially, I don't need to get a job right away and, though he is a big as big, Comet will still have occasional need of me. I will remain chief procurement officer for our family, cook, laundress, and Janey on the spot. I might try my hand at painting a bathroom or two. You never know.
I plan to volunteer at Comet's school as much as they will let me. He's not getting rid of me that easy! Comet, I apologize in advance, as your middle school years will be extra embarassing with Mama, complete with her cane and bifocals, trotting along on your class trips in her orthopaedic shoes. Hmm, maybe I need a part-time job at least I should get in better shape before it all goes to hell in a hand basket. I'll be thinking on it.
So I'm doing quite well, thank you. Now I'm off to throw down the gauntlet, or at least my cheap cell phone, at the AT&T store. Excelscior!
Misty K
P.S. And another thing: my neighbor could let his dog in already so the barking would cease. That would be nice, too.
Now before you go feeling sorry for me, don't! Gameguy does more than his share of parent work and holds a full-time job. Also, he's a homebody, so when other husbands are heading to the golf course or their favorite fishin' hole or waterin' hole, he's right here, ready to let me take an emergency nap. He doesn't even have commuter time to himself, unless you count the walk down the stairs from his office. He can bring home the bacon, and if necessary, will fry it up in a pan without complaint. His board game hobby is wholesome (at least the games he lets me see ) and he loves to share it with his family. Gameguy is all that and a bag of chips (potato or poker).
Like I said, don't feel sorry for me. Just let me do it for you! My complaints for today are that it is too cold, my house is not heating up fast enough, my technology is failing me (sassafrassin' cell phone won't make or take calls), and that's all I got. No, Wait! One of our cats is peeing on things: laundry, expensive yarn, my dresser. Quick call CSI, "Cat Scene Investigation!" How funny am I? But hear this, Dolce and Percy: as soon as there is a home DNA testing kit, somebody's furry little ass is grass. (Translation: I will be very cross with you and tell you so in no uncertain terms. Then I will wait, quietly seething and resenting, until you DIE OF OLD AGE! Take that, treacherous feline! Be afraid....very afraid! Hey, stop licking yourself and listen to me!)
Oh! Oh! I also have a couple of dilemmas! First, I would like to move, somewhere close by because I love the town, *or* even better, demolish our lovely, old, nearly historic home and build an airtight, hotbox with a huge jacuzzi tub, a sunroom, a large gameroom for my boys and a working fireplace. Maybe it would also have an extra-warm room for me that is just mine, and no one better go in there unless I invite them in! Also, I would drain our marshy yard, or plant a rice paddy.
Dilemma number two is more amorphous. It's the what "what will I do with my life" thing. This is something I've felt forever, even when I was formally employed, until I got pregnant. When the bun was in the oven, I felt that I was doing enough for the world and continued to feel that way until tha last year or so when Comet suddenly became a kid! Now Comet goes to school for a full day next year, and it's not like I'm gonna do more housework to while away the hours! I was talking about this with Gameguy and mentioned that when I had more free time, I could, in theory, clean more. Oh, how we laughed! How we chuckled! It really *is* that funny. It's a dang laugh riot!
But I am concerned about what to do with my time, which I know is a nice dilemma to have. Oh sure I could get a job, but I've been out of "the force" for years, I can't remember if I have any mad skills, and with the job market as tight as it is, I don't think I'm in demand. Financially, I don't need to get a job right away and, though he is a big as big, Comet will still have occasional need of me. I will remain chief procurement officer for our family, cook, laundress, and Janey on the spot. I might try my hand at painting a bathroom or two. You never know.
I plan to volunteer at Comet's school as much as they will let me. He's not getting rid of me that easy! Comet, I apologize in advance, as your middle school years will be extra embarassing with Mama, complete with her cane and bifocals, trotting along on your class trips in her orthopaedic shoes. Hmm, maybe I need a part-time job at least I should get in better shape before it all goes to hell in a hand basket. I'll be thinking on it.
So I'm doing quite well, thank you. Now I'm off to throw down the gauntlet, or at least my cheap cell phone, at the AT&T store. Excelscior!
Misty K
P.S. And another thing: my neighbor could let his dog in already so the barking would cease. That would be nice, too.
Friday, February 20, 2009
I see London, I see France
Do you remember a time when what kind of underpants you were wearing really mattered? Me neither. Legend has it that as a child, I was a fan of the lacey bottomed variety, but that just seems to itchy to think about. As an adult, I am a slave to comfort and thrift with a nod toward not embarrassing myself if I happen to get into an accident. If the elastic is good, there are no holes and they don't show through the fabric or over the waistband of what I wear, I'm ready to go. Things are different when you are just under five years old and a boy named Comet.
The undie story started this morning when the only clean underpants were of the Lightening McQueen variety. Understand, Lightening's star has fallen and it's all super heroes, all the time now. Comet would also be excited about underwear that depicted fighting of any kind. So far, no kickboxing/knife fight/bazooka battle 3 pair pack has shown up in a local venue. We've got to work with what"the corporations" (ala Gameguy) are selling: cartoon Super Heroes for cool boys and Diego and Elmo for the tragically unhip.
So, Comet and I sought our fortune at the local KMart. Let me just thank God and KMart, right here, that they had the appropriate heroes in a size four. Thank you (You)! I'll give Comet this, he's fast. He made his selections in two minutes. The choices? Drumroll, please. He will be shaking his booty in either Star Wars or Transformers drawers for the next six days. He insisted on putting on a new pair the minute we got home from the store and is happily sitting on Bumblebee ( "the best Transformer"), watching Scooby Doo on TV. Here's hoping that the old faithfuls of his wardrobe (what's left of Batman, Spidey, Scooby and the X-Men) will still be good enough. In our house, you need more than six pairs in your cycle. I'm just saying
The undie story started this morning when the only clean underpants were of the Lightening McQueen variety. Understand, Lightening's star has fallen and it's all super heroes, all the time now. Comet would also be excited about underwear that depicted fighting of any kind. So far, no kickboxing/knife fight/bazooka battle 3 pair pack has shown up in a local venue. We've got to work with what"the corporations" (ala Gameguy) are selling: cartoon Super Heroes for cool boys and Diego and Elmo for the tragically unhip.
So, Comet and I sought our fortune at the local KMart. Let me just thank God and KMart, right here, that they had the appropriate heroes in a size four. Thank you (You)! I'll give Comet this, he's fast. He made his selections in two minutes. The choices? Drumroll, please. He will be shaking his booty in either Star Wars or Transformers drawers for the next six days. He insisted on putting on a new pair the minute we got home from the store and is happily sitting on Bumblebee ( "the best Transformer"), watching Scooby Doo on TV. Here's hoping that the old faithfuls of his wardrobe (what's left of Batman, Spidey, Scooby and the X-Men) will still be good enough. In our house, you need more than six pairs in your cycle. I'm just saying
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Overheard on a Play Date
Comet: "Baby James, do you believe in God?
Baby James: "Who's God????
Comet: "You know! The guy up in the sky who makes the weather!" (Sheesh!)
(At least I know Comet's religious education is right on track!)
Baby James: "Who's God????
Comet: "You know! The guy up in the sky who makes the weather!" (Sheesh!)
(At least I know Comet's religious education is right on track!)
Revelation #1
I have no revelations! I chose my title because "Aquarius" was my first ever favorite song and all the other titles I thought of (like muthablogga and mamajama) were taken. I have no particular blogging goals. I hope to be funny and not too whiny. Or if I have to be whiny, at least I hope I'm funny.
I am a 43 year-old stay-at-home mother of an almost five year-old son I'll call Comet and wife to GameGuy, computer progammer and gamesman extraordinaire . I have worked in a fundraising office, a hospital and a library and all I learned is that I don't really want to do any of those things again. Every once in a while Comet will announce his desire to be something exciting when her grows up. Say a race car driver, a soldier, an "office guy," or, recently a "money guy." He follows up with "Mama, what do you want to be when you grow up?" Though I insist that I *am* grown up, frankly, I wish I knew! Taking care of my son for the past 4+ years has been the highlight of my working life, but as he goes off to a full day of kindergarten iin the Fall, I find myself wondering what's next.
For now, let me tell you about two features I want to have on Misty Krystal's Revelations. The first is "Overheard on a Play Date," in which I will regale you with the funny and strange conversations I overhear as I play chauffer, cook, cruise director for Comet and his pals. My second feature is inspired by my brilliant friend, Our Lady of Perfection (check out her blog). It's called "White Woman Complaining," a delightful look the little inconveniences in life that try my soul, but are not, in anyway, actual problems and only serve to make me look spoiled and silly, yet familiar and human (I hope). See? I do have a plan.
Now let me post and see what this thing looks like!
Now to publish my post and see what this thing looks like.
I am a 43 year-old stay-at-home mother of an almost five year-old son I'll call Comet and wife to GameGuy, computer progammer and gamesman extraordinaire . I have worked in a fundraising office, a hospital and a library and all I learned is that I don't really want to do any of those things again. Every once in a while Comet will announce his desire to be something exciting when her grows up. Say a race car driver, a soldier, an "office guy," or, recently a "money guy." He follows up with "Mama, what do you want to be when you grow up?" Though I insist that I *am* grown up, frankly, I wish I knew! Taking care of my son for the past 4+ years has been the highlight of my working life, but as he goes off to a full day of kindergarten iin the Fall, I find myself wondering what's next.
For now, let me tell you about two features I want to have on Misty Krystal's Revelations. The first is "Overheard on a Play Date," in which I will regale you with the funny and strange conversations I overhear as I play chauffer, cook, cruise director for Comet and his pals. My second feature is inspired by my brilliant friend, Our Lady of Perfection (check out her blog). It's called "White Woman Complaining," a delightful look the little inconveniences in life that try my soul, but are not, in anyway, actual problems and only serve to make me look spoiled and silly, yet familiar and human (I hope). See? I do have a plan.
Now let me post and see what this thing looks like!
Now to publish my post and see what this thing looks like.
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