Just Another Day

So what follows is a transcript of the first obscene telephone call I ever received. I must have been about 11 or 12, and I remember that I had recently been reading one of my sister's Seventeen magazines. Ring! Ring! Me: Hello? Pervert on the Phone: Heavy Breathing Me: Hel lo ? Pervert on the Phone: Hey, I have a 10 inch d!ck... Me: Oh really? You wear a size ten? Pervert on the Phone: Wha? Me: (prattling) Yeah, I think I wear about a size 4 of those, but I'm not really sure. It could be a 6... Pervert on the Phone: (completely baffled by what I just said) Unnhhhh... click . You see, I thought the Pervert on the Phone said "Dickies." Not long before the phone rang, I had seen an ad in my sister's magazine for that particular clothing line. I was so naive, it didn't hit me until much later what he had actually said to me. I think I am probably the only 12 year old on earth who made the obscene caller hang up on me .

So despite the apparent lack of element of surprise for the hotel stay, we did well on the brunch. My sister led my parents to be fashionably late to their own party, thus enabling all the guests to be seated and waiting for the couple to arrive. I was at the brunch site first, directing people and making sure everyone knew the plan. When my parents arrived, only Hubba-hubba, Mr. Personality, and myself were sitting innocently in the waiting area. Apparently my sister had just five minutes before told a bald-faced lie to their faces when asked if anyone besides just us would be there. It was hard to see who was who as they walked toward the tables, but as they got closer, they kept naming people off in amazement. Like I said, two different sets of people had flown in to be there, as well as another couple getting up at 5am to be there on time. The brunch was lovely. Unseasonably hot, but lovely. We had a perfect view of the beach, as we watched the waves hit less than 300 yards fr

So today we all showed up at their doorstep. They were surprised to see us all standing there. We tumbled in and advised them to start packing for an overnight stay. A car would be arriving in an hour to take them to their hotel. They seemed strangely unsurprised. They sat there for a minute, and then went, "OK." Now for my dad to do something like that is expected. But my mother, she should have been asking fifty questions about everything and then fifty more. But she just kind of shrugged her shoulders and set off to pack. She came in a few minutes later and said, "I thought it was strange when a car company left a message saying they were coming to pick us up last Saturday." WHAAAA? The look exchanged between my sister and I could have melted ice. We pressed for details, which car company? Did they specifically ask for you? My mother answered in the most vague and noncommital way possible. We were perturbed, to say the least. The car arrived, and the dr

So tomorrow is the day. My sister and I have been planning this for months. Twice, I almost opened my big mouth and let something slip, but I attribute that to the fact that I was juggling plans for three surprise parties at the same time. I kept forgetting who I could tell what . My parent's 40th anniversary passed by on Wednesday, apparently unnoticed by any of their loved ones. My sister and I don't usually call them to wish them a happy anniversary, and we couldn't exactly start now without tipping somebody (read: my mom) off. Tomorrow morning at 11:30am, we will swoop down on my mom and dad, who will most likely be innocently reading the paper. We will show up at their doorstep. They will be stunned, wondering why the heck we are there. Gradually, we will mention that they might like to start packing. Confusion will ensue, with both of my parents claiming they cannot possibly go anywhere because they already have plans that are set in stone. My mother believes

From the Desk of Mr. Personality Our hostile takeover bid, still in its initial phase, seems to be going quite well. Long meetings conducted over warm juice boxes and cold macaroni and cheese questioned the wisdom to launch "Operation No Nap" and despite some of the initial concerns, it has executed perfectly. The days of meekly climbing into bed and falling asleep are gone, my friends. In their place, a seemingly never ending 12 hour fun-a-thon! Too engrossed in your Bob the Builder playset to bother with the whole "close your eyes and go to sleep" routine? No problem, "Operation No Nap" or ONN, has forever solved that problem. No longer does the day have to be interrupted smack dab in the middle by that outdated institution known as "The Nap." By far the most interesting aspect of this project is the effect on subject A, aka Mom. Today, desperate for a respite from our incessant screeching of the entire Raffi catalogue while jumping on th

So on Sunday, we rode a train. Now Hubba-hubba and I are true native Southern Californians in the fact that we tend to eschew public transportation. It is not that we have anything against public transportation. It is just that here in the LA area, the public transit systems are so poor, they don't actually take anyone anywhere they would like to go. Say for instance, the MetroLink "Green Line." It runs from Norwalk (a city with absolutely no distinguishing features in semi-Southeast LA) to what they try to tell you is Los Angeles International Airport. Except, unlike great cities like Chicago, where you simply ride a little conveyor belt out of your terminal, and there you are right on the El platform, it doesn't actually take you to the airport. No, no, it takes you a couple of miles from the airport, where you and your luggage are herded aboard a shuttle to take you to LAX. At least they have the decency not to charge you for the shuttle, but still. Suffice

So I apparently need some serious help. I now seem to be horribly addicted to the new show "Tommy Lee Goes to College." I must be one of the 20 people on the planet who has never seen the sex tape of him and Pam Anderson. Of course, I am familiar with his band Motely Crue, although have never been a huge heavy metal fan. I have seen various unflattering pictures of him in People magazine and the like, and could never understand all his groupies. Actually he is much better looking than I have ever given him credit for, but based on the apparently very long hotties list I posted a while ago, it doesn't take much for me to find a man even semi-good looking. That could be good or bad, depending on how you look at it. Good for me, possibly bad for Hubba-hubba. Anyway, the classic fish out of water scenario has gotten me hooked (har har). The University of Nebraska seems to be your classic football-obsessed Midwestern college, and tatted Tommy does stick out a wee bit. T

So the other day at the library, I was perusing the new and recommended book section. When I go with Mr. Personality, my time to browse and read blurbs, do a search on the computer and the like, is basically about 5 minutes. I am usually quite picky about my books, but lately I have been feeling adventurous. Perhaps just panicky about finding a book in my short allotment of time might be a better description, but it sounds ever so much more flattering to say adventurous, though. I saw the name Carson McCullers on the spine of one book, and immediately remembered her as the author of Member of the Wedding . Now back in high school when I read that particular book, I enjoyed it. The title, The Heart is a Lonely Hunter sounded intriguing, and I quickly placed it in my dorky little bag that I bring to the library because if I try to carry everything in my arms plus corral Mr. Personality, a loud and embarassing tumble to the floor is sure to ensue. I learned this the hard way. Thus

So I have been trying for a couple of days now to reach the White House. No really, I keep attempting to email them, and I cannot get through. I keep having to go through this endless loop that navigates me right up to the point where I can type them, then it kicks me out. You see, my grandparent's 60th wedding anniversary is coming up in October, and it is possible to request a greeting from the White House for the occasion . They want you to give them at least 6 week's notice, and since I just found out about it a few days ago, my time is ticking. We are not sure if they will even appreciate the greeting, as they are not big fans of George W. Despite that, we thought it would be kind of a cool thing anyway. Maybe they can just kind of white out the name or something. But at the rate I am being constantly told to pound internet sand by the White House website, it isn't looking very good. Does the White House somehow know that we are Democrats?

So I have never been the type to go ape over babies and children. I worked for six years in the parks and recreation department of a city, and I learned to spot the good from the bad right away. As a camp counselor, I had the reputation as the "disciplinarian" one. Boys, especially, were not always initially thrilled to land in my group. But once they learned that I would not tolerate foolishness for the sake of it, and was willing to have fun as long as everyone played by the rules, we got along fine. After stocking up at Trader Joe's on Margherita Pizzas, organic plums, and these lemon wafer cookies from Italy that I cannot seem to stop snarfing down, we stood in the checkout line. Mr. Personality was sitting calmly in the seat of the cart, chomping on some pretzel sticks. From out of nowhere, this little boy comes up to us. I had seen him earlier, he was with his mother and baby sister, and I had noticed him because he was speaking a different language, somethin

So I thought I would treat everyone to some totally random celebrity sightings that I have had here in SoCal. Jerry Seinfeld- At the height of the show's popularity, we saw Jerry a few times at Dodger Stadium, about two rows away. He was there when they played against the Mets, he always had a Mets cap on, I'm not sure if he was trying to hide or not. I never saw a single person ever approach him. Vanessa Marcil - Formerly on General Hospital , now on Vegas . Again at Dodger Stadium, she sat two rows in front of us. (Have I ever mentioned how awesome our season ticketholder seats were?) She was one of the tiniest women I have ever seen. Her waist seemed to be as thick as my calf. She was cute in person, but not beautiful. Topher Grace - Formerly of That 70's Show , various films. At Universal Citywalk. This was less than a year ago, and he saw me staring at him, trying to figure out if it was indeed him. I always have to look for a while, because most of them do not lo

So Mr. Personality and I were at the park the other day. We were on the playground when some girls began riding around in this oversized motorized motorcycle thingy. It was actually kind of odd looking, with huge sylized pink tailpipes. Mr. Personality was agog. "You should buy that for me," he told me as he raptly watched the girls circle around the playground. "Oh really?" I said. "Yes, that would be a very good thing." I don't know which I am more horrified about, the fact that he was so boldly greedy, or that he somehow has managed to channel Martha Stewart.

So unless you are currently vacationing in Outer Mongolia, you probably have heard about Cindy Sheehan . I admire what she is doing on many levels. I am certainly not one to second-guess the grief of a mother who has lost her child. If what she is doing helps her to cope with that, I am all for it. I also happen to agree with many of her points. But I think the biggest reason I admire her is that she thought that she could make a difference, and she set out to do it. There are so many horrible tragedies going on in the world, it is hard to make even a partial list. War in so many countries, not just Iraq. Poverty, AIDS, starvation, female circumcision, stonings, religious oppression, elder abuse, the list goes on and on. I can only say for myself that it leads to overload. I see so many things that need fixing, that I say to myself, where to start? Among the hundreds of causes, which one is most worthy? Can I as one person make any kind of real dent into the problem? For e

My friend Suzanne from the always wonderful Mimilou just tagged me with this and to show how prompt I am, I am doing it on practically the same day! No, I'm not obsessive at all! Boiler plate text: But first the rules to this meme game: Remove the blog at #1 from the following list and bump every one up one place; add your blog's name in the #5 spot; link to each of the other blogs for the desired cross pollination effect. 1. Melody http://melslifeinanutshell.blogspot.com 2. -A- http://motherswork.blogspot.com 3. Heather http://outloudvoice.blogspot.com 4. Suzanne http://mimilou.blogspot.com 5. Gina http://objustanotherday.blogspot.com Next: select new friends to add to the pollen count. (No one is obligated to participate) -- {Edited by Gina to add- But if you don't, just know that I will be sobbing into my pillow at night, thinking you don't like me... But no pressure at all.} 1. Suzanne http://lifinthesuburbs.blogspot.com 2. Mel http://melodee128.blogspot.com 3. AC

So I have no clue if I fall into the realm of "normal" when it comes to germs and dirt. I think I am somewhere in the middle, although I have yet to ask many people to describe to me their exact tolerance of dirt in the house. I don't allow shoes in the house, at least for the three of us. Part of this has to do with the fact that all of my floors are freakin' white, my friends. Yes, not just white, but freakin' white. White ceramic tile and "oatmeal" carpet. Oatmeal is as good as white to me. The other reason I don't like shoes in the house is because it gives me the heebie-jeebies thinking about what I have been stepping in all day, and the fact that I am bringing it into the house. I can't remember when, I think it was when Mr. Personality was about 6 months or so, that I contemplated all the crap we walk in with our shoes. I mean, literally crap. Urine, vomit, gasoline, oil, you name it and it is on the concrete of the parking lot. I

So I consider myself a hot off the presses type of gal. Oh sure, while I am putting Mr. Personality to bed, topics roll around in my brain. I try to think of interesting things that happened in my day, and usually since it consists mostly of fulfilling the needs of an almost-three-year-old, I don't have that much variety. Onto broader topics I go, and I try to guess what my "core" audience will want to hear about. All five of you. I love you guys. Anyway, so I sit down at the computer, usually with a caffeine-free Diet Coke somewhere near at hand. Snacks are optional, it depends on the time of night. I look for a second at the box I am supposed to type in, take a deep breath, and start typing. Sometimes it is what I planned on writing, sometimes it is something completely different. Usually my better posts are ones that are not particularly planned. I know when I cast about for five minutes on the perfect wording for a sentence, that I am in some serious trouble.

When jumping into the pool, his dad has taught him to say "Cowabunga!" Except, to his ears, it sounds better to say something a bit different, but in the same spirit. Thus, everyone in our cul-de-sac is treated to repeated yells of "HUNGA BUNGA!" I will pay anybody 50 bucks who can give me a piece of advice to get this kid to pee in the potty. Poop he's got down perfectly. But the pee, he says assuredly, "I can go pee pee in my pull-up, it's ok." He likes to play something he calls "Mailbox." Mailbox is a charming pastime in which he pops all of the books in his living room bookcase into the space in between the couch and the end table. There are a good 40 plus books in that particular bookcase. Needless to say, Mommy is not too fond of "Mailbox." Lately when I tell him that I love him, he tells me, "I love you too" and it just makes me melt like pancake makeup in the summer. From one moment to the next, I never

So today we decided to run away and join the circus . Ok, so maybe all we did was attend the circus. It was a family affair with six of us enjoying the sights. I wasn't really sure if I would like it, I mainly bought the tickets for Mr. Personality. But upon entering the arena, I found myself screeching and clapping with the best of them. Ringling Bros. has instituted something they term an "all access preshow" which was awesome. We got to go down onto the floor of the arena, sit around the "rings" and watch the performers from perhaps 6 feet away. At first, Mr. Personality was a bit overwhelmed with the sensory overload, but then he got into it. At one point, he was sitting on his grandfather's lap, and was laughing so hard at one of the clowns that his entire body was shaking. My sister and I were laughing so hard at him that we had tears in our eyes. To my surprise, we were all greatly entertained by the whole show. I know that there is a large a

So, I am going to wimp out and post my favorite songs. Of course I cheated, who in the world can just list ten? What are you going to do about it, huh? That's what I thought. Although, I have to add the caveat that if you had me post this list again in a month, it probably won't be the same. Unforgettable Fire- U2 What can I say about this song? The Edge is the best guitar player, period, and Bono's tortured wails always get to me. Comfortably Numb-Pink Floyd I love listening to this song. It is so melodic, and I don't care if it is supposed to be about drugs or whatever, I still like it. Ah! Leah!-Donnie Iris This is a great song that gets me moving every time I hear it. And who can resist a song that has not just one, but two exclamation points in the title? Future Love Paradise-Seal Seal has a great voice, and I love textured melodies, and this one has the best of both. Longer-Dan Fogelberg This song is so sweet and unabashadly sentimental, it brings my

So along with an affinity for different shades of lipstick, I also love things that make me smell good. For as long as I can remember, I have been very girly that way. If I had been a young girl in this age where as a 10 year old I can walk into Bath and Body Works and find an entire line of products devoted entirely to me, I would probably still be paying it off. The first perfume I ever used was the ubiquitous Love's Baby Soft back in the 70's. It wasn't even mine, it was my sister's. I don't think anyone who has smelled Love's Baby Soft will ever forget it. What adolescent girl doesn't dream of smelling like cloyingly sweet baby powder? But it was all I had, and I was grateful to wear it whenever I got the chance, which was basically whenever my sister wasn't home to catch me using it. My first real fragrance was one called Red, made by Giorgio of Beverly Hills. It was a horrifically sophisticated perfume for the 9th grader that I was when I bou

So I went to the bridal shower of a dear friend on Sunday. It was a "bring your own teacup" tea in a city called Rancho Palos Verdes. Can I say that the house and setting were beyond lovely? The home was on a cliff with a 180 degree view of the Pacific. Look hard right, there's the ocean! Look straight ahead, there's the ocean! And then again, there's the ocean on your left! Built onto the edge of the property was a bench that ran almost the length of the property, upon which they set pillows so that you could lounge and look out at the sea. Wouldn't I love to wake up and be able to look out to a view like that every morning. I knew going into the tea that I would know very few people. I was counting on one person I knew to be there, thus alleviating any loner status. Of course, the bride-to-be cannot give people personal attention, so I was looking forward to catching up with my friend, whom I haven't seen in a few months. Unfortunately for ever

So when I think of my favorite stores, I tend to overlook one in particular. I don't know why, since I go there at least twice a month. I also almost always manage to drop at least 200 bucks when shopping there. I do get excited when I enter, there are so many items to choose from, and I never know exactly what items they are going to have. Yes, Costco is my friend. The largest of the so-called "big box" stores, Costco has been my family's best bosom buddy for a long time. Where else can you pick up 150 diapers, a pound of cheese, fresh flowers, and a lawnmower? All at pretty decent prices, I might add. There are two things to watch for when shopping at Costco. One is, don't get carried away with buying a bunch of stuff when you don't know if you have room for it. Yes, it is tempting to buy a pack of 12 rolls of paper towels. When is there not a need for paper towels in our lives? But where the heck are these things going to go in the meantime? I can