Thanks, Mama

Yesterday, whilst slogging along behind Comet at a benefit for the local Food Bank that boasted of many bouncy houses and two giant slides, I had occasion to feel grateful to my mother. I point this out because this is not the usual feeling I have about the dear old DP (deceased parent). Things were often grim. But yesterday, as I was carrying all of Comet's stuff and my stuff and two drinks and a basket of plastic vegetables that Comet won at a previous event, doing something that was not particularly fun for me so that Comet could do something that was spectacularly fun for him, shivering in the wet chilliness, I thought of my own mother and trips we to to Rockaway playland and other amusement parks when I was a kid.

We went to in the summer to "ride the rides." By which I mean, I rode the rides and my mother watched. In polyester and uncomfortable shoes, spending more than she should have, my mother sweated and was probably bored and tired while I had the time of my life. Sometimes, she even brought my cousins or friends along with us: One Woman, Four Kids, No Escape! And this was in the day when there wasn't so much geared toward children and most of the kids I knew didn't have parents who would take them special places just for the fun of it.

What I'm getting at is that, thirty-odd years later, I am finally grateful. It's not so much fun to be the pack animal at the fair, to "suffer" physical discomfort, to go to places you would probably avoid as a childless person, and to keep smiling (or at least keep from yelling), so that a little person can have the time of his life. Not to mention having to cajole said young person into leaving so that his pack-Mom can put down some of her burden and regain the feeling in her arms.

Comet is coming in on five, and already he has done more fun, kid things than I did in my whole childhood. Times are different, there is so much more to do and, what's more I have the means and the support of a fantastic partner, two things my mother never had. So, I'm grateful for the fun times she provided and put up with. It helps me do the same for Comet and his friends. Thanks, Mama.

brandy is not dandy!

So, for many years I've had this fantasy that brandy was a delicious, sweet, thick, comforting drink. People lazing by the fireplace, sticking their noses into ridiculously large glasses of pure idle delight. That was what I expected in my snifter. But I never tried it. So when I found myself in a liquor store yesterday (just an expression, I didn't wake up on the floor of the ABC store), I bought some. I was perusing the teeny tiny bottle section, as is my wont, and I got very excited when I saw a teensy bottle of brandy! I bought it with great expectations, but when I tried it later that night--whoo boy! That was some nasty stuff! I think it can remove nail polish, no problem. It was not delicious, sweet, thick or comforting! Maybe brandy tastes good if you are freezing to death and happen upon a friendly, keg toting St. Bernard, or if you've just stumbled out of a London downpour in a Dickens novel. I hope I never find myself in circumstances that would make brandy appealing.

P.S. Does this mean that travelling in a coach-and-four would be in anyway uncomfortable?

Eternal Damnation, made easy!

Comet (at 7:01) a.m.: "It's Moooooorrrrrrning!"

The following is and internal dialog between myself and the Prince of Darkness:

Misty K: "Oh, Sh*t! Just a thirty minutes more sleep! Please! Hey, I smell rotten eggs! WTF?"

The Devil: "Er, that's sulfur. Anyway, if you'd just prick your finger and sign here in your
own blood, I will give you a whole DAY of sleep and...."

Misty K: "I'll take it--get me a pin!"

The Devil: "Wait, I was also going to make make you 5th in the line of succession for the throne
of England!"

Misty K: "No thanks, I can't wear hats! Now, just give me the damn pin!"

Feelin' the Love.....

Comet: "Mama, I made you a one-way ticket!"

MistyK: "Where am I going?"

Comet: "To New York for NINE DAYS!"

dad-GUM-it!

This morning I committed my worst housekeeping atrocity to date. Sure, in the past there have been rooms full of suds ala Peter Brady and once a number of fire trucks sped to my apartment with sirens blaring, but in those situations the clean-up was easy-paesy. The fireman actually cleaned up most of the Nacho Inferno of '89. So far, I haven't really had to take too much responsibility for my ineptitude.

This time, I've really done it! I washed and the proceeded to dry a pair of my pants with a whole pack of gum (green gum) in the pocket. Now, my dryer looks like it belongs to the Jackson Pollack estate and I have to figure out a way to de-gum up the works.

Of course, I headed to the internet. The first thing I tried, heating the dryer up and wiping with a dryer sheet, might have worked if it was only one piece of gum. But it just couldn't handle the volume. My second attempt involved orange scented Goo Gone. Better, but still not up to the task of removingf twenty-something pieces of gummy goodness from the dryer drum. Next, I'm trying Simple green and a Scrubby. Following that, I'm giving up gum and buying a clothesline.

I guess it really does pay to check out those pockets before throwing the clothes in the wash. Usually the most exciting thing I find in the dryer is some freshly laundered money.

MKR