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well, little missy, what you got here is a weekend 2001-08-13 I am so hungry today, I had to force myself not to eat my lunch at 10:30. It was touch and go for awhile, but then it was noon and I was getting ready to dig into my baked beans and my apple, when one of my coworkers said that our Employer is handing out lunch today. Fried chicken and rolls and potato salad, etc. I was so there. Three of us went up and we had just gotten lunch and found seats under the enormous tent when thunder growled, the sky opened up and rain began to pour. It was fabulous! People were shrieking and scrambling for the tent, and the band that had been hired to play (yeah...good gig...) struck up Moon River, and I ate my chicken with pure contentment. Oh, also I had a Coke, and that was quite a treat. The Employer also handed out ice cream in those little plastic cups with the wooden spoons, and I love those wooden spoons. They taste like summer. I wasn't planning to take a lunch hour today because I'm leaving an hour early to get my hair cut. This hair has been horrible for a week, and the humidity is just egging it on. It's totally overgrown and awful, and I can't wait to get it whacked off. I'll work through lunch tomorrow to make up for leaving early today. This morning I had to get up and use the bathroom at about 3:00, and then I had trouble going back to sleep. I eventually fell asleep and was dreaming that I was trying to go to a party, and I had my cat, Lucy, with me. I kept trying to leave her in the car and she somehow kept getting out and following me. At one point I went into a building and some guy told me that he wanted to tell me a joke, but for it to be really funny I would need to take my shoes off. So I took them off and the joke wasn't funny at all, and when I went to put my shoes back on they were gone and there were ugly shoes in their place. I was so mad! Someone had stolen my cute shoes and left me ugly flats to wear, and they didn't go with my outfit and I knew I would look stupid at the party. It was quite vexing. Before I found the person who stole the shoes, I felt the bed kind of shaking and then I heard the Boy say, "Can I sleep with you?" He'd had a nightmare. He crawled in and Francisco went to get his pillow, since there are only two on our bed, and after awhile he went to sleep. Francisco and I, on the other hand, didn't. It was about 4:00 when Boy got in bed and I've been awake since then. I was amused at Lucy, who as usual was sleeping heaped up on my left side. When Boy got in I felt her tense up and kind of dig in, as though to say, "This is MY place and you're not getting it. Stay on your Own side, bitch". If she could have, she would have had him 'talk to the hand'; that cat is full of attitude. I thought about moving her but I knew her feelings would be hurt (she is a delicate flower) and she might even get a complex of some kind, so I just laid there and allowed her to be the friend that sticketh closer than a brother. At 5:00 the alarm went off and Francisco and I got up and went to the gym. I rowed for 30 minutes and lifted weights and did abs, and then I showered. In the shower my sunburn started peeling, and I made poor Francisco wait for 5 minutes extra because I was in the locker room, standing over the garbage can and throwing my peeled skin into it. I peeled it all and then lotioned, and I know some people are very grossed-out by the idea of peeling your skin, but I kind of enjoy peeling it. Sometimes it makes a faint little "snick" noise when it peels off, and that's just the best. What, are you gagging? Sorry. Anyway, I just like to get the peeling over with and now it's done and I still have tanness, so all is well. Sorry. It was a pretty good weekend. The Boy Airport Reunion went very smoothly and we were all happy and he gave big hugs. Last year when I picked him up at the airport he was more reserved with his hugs, but this year he was embracing with the best of them. We got home from the airport at about midnight on Thursday, called my parents to tell them he got back safe, and then went to bed. On Friday I hung out with Boy at home while Francisco went to administer and grade the final for his summer class. Boy played with his new video game and reacquainted himself with his toys and room, and then later we all went out to Rush Hour 2. The Boy *loves* Jackie Chan, so he really loved the movie, and Francisco and I like Jackie Chan so we thought the movie was pretty entertaining, but unlike Boy we did not feel the movie should receive an Oscar. It was funny and was everything a summer blockbuster-type movie should be, but you know; not Oscar-worthy. Saturday we did more hanging out at home (all the indoor activity this weekend was due mainly to the weather being hot as hell), and we also did a school supply run, because Boy was going back to school today. That evening we went to our friends' for dinner. They served wasabi salmon, rice with sesame seeds & green onions (both delicious), and sauteed swiss chard (not delicious). Swiss chard is in the beet family and beets taste like dirt to me, so I had to choke down that bitter chard mess, but all in all a very delicious meal. We had brought sake to drink and an origami kit to play with. After dinner we all made cranes, with very little trouble, and then we attempted a pig and that's where the bickering started. I'm not sure exactly where we went wrong but none of us could get that pig right. Our paper was all mangled by the time our hostess diplomatically began serving the peach/berry cobbler she had made for dessert. Francisco vowed that he would make a pig. He told them that next Sunday when they came for dinner, he would Show them a pig. Hmm, I wonder where he'll get it, because it's not likely he'll be making one. Yesterday we did more hanging out at home. Francisco's mom came over for lunch, which was a surprise since we'd invited her for dinner, so Francisco went and got KFC. When she arrived Francisco had just finished giving me a tour of the MacIntosh desktop computer we have at home. I decided I am finally going to start using it, but since I have always only used non-Macs at work and etc, I asked him to show it to me so I could figure out where it differs from the non-Macs. It seems pretty straightforward and is a little different, but not too. Francisco is a Mac freak, and I am not, but I think I will have no trouble using the computer for word processing, etc. Anyhoo, after lunch Nola hung out awhile but then went home, and Francisco and I did a little yardwork. Partway through he cut his finger pretty badly so we went in and bandaged him, and while he stopped bleeding we watched the Trading Spaces we'd recorded from the previous day. I've never seen anyone so vehemently hate the makeover given to their room, but man these people Hated what had been done to their living room, and they made no bones about it. The designer had done some different things with paint and with whimsical accessories, and the couple was appalled. They were saying, immediately, "This is not us. We are not funky people; there is not a funky bone in our bodies", and I was thinking "well god forbid you should try something new". They really seemed quite proud of their drab preferences, and the old Simpson's line popped into my head, "The stick up his butt has a stick up its butt". There were a couple things about the room I didn't really love either, but overall it was pretty cool. Interesting the way they hated it. After the Trading Spaces, more yard work, and I also did some indoor chores. At 7:00 the Pupipanis clustered around the television for waffles with peanut butter and Iron Chef, and it was good as always. This weekend I had a dream that I was on a tv show that was like a blend of Iron Chef and Trading Spaces--do you think I watch too much television? Wait, don't answer that. And that is the long-winded account of my three-day weekend. Great weekend, and I only wish it could've lasted longer. After Boy got on the schoolbus this morning I was watching some news and I had my coffee and I had a sudden strong yearning to be a housewife, because that would be the life. A childless housewife, mind you, because if I was staying home with children it would be more work than I do now, at work. I would like to send the Boy to school and Francisco to work and have my coffee and maybe even watch Regis and Kelly, and then I would go to my desk and computer and write fabulous articles/books/screenplays that I would sell for top dollar. This is a fantasy, remember. And then the maid would come and clean my bathrooms and I would swim in my pool and my personal trainer would come by and train me, personally, and my seamstress would come by to deliver her latest creation made just for me, and then the chef would deliver dinner and the Boy and Francisco would come home to find me all radiant and happy and skinny. I'm all over this fantasy housewife thing. One last thing: Saturday night driving home from our friends' we were singing camp songs, and I remembered this one song from when I was a Brownie (aged 8 or so) at Brownie camp. And it goes a little something like this-- [ahem] "Well O'Leary was dead and O'Riley don't know it, O'Riley was dead and O'Leary don't know it, They both were struck dead in the very same bed, Neither of them knew that the other was dead. BONG...BONG...BONG...BONG." The song is supposed to be sung a few times, and sung in rounds, etc etc. Now I ask you, is this an appropriate song to teach 8 year olds? Should 8 year olds be singing about dead Irishmen, sharing beds? I have to say, I think not. Did anyone else learn this gruesome song at some point in their childhoods? Anyone? BONG...BONG...BONG...BONG... Love,
come over some time & see me - 2011-02-25 |
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