Just Another Day

You know, I'm a liberal. Not what I would call a "bleeding heart" but fairly close. And you know what? Liberals appreciate the sacrifices made by the people in our armed forces every bit as much as any red-stater. Don't even think otherwise. So to all those who gave the ultimate sacrifice, thank you from the bottom of my blue heart.

U2 is one of my all-time favorite bands. My BIL, you should know, is six feet, three inches tall. The last time I saw U2, it was the nineties. The Popmart tour, I believe. I'd seen the ZooTV tour as well, but little did I know it would be almost fifteen years until I would see them again. I don't remember why I couldn't see them in 2001, and in 2006 we had scheduled a trip to San Francisco on the exact same weekend they were here. U2 was also here last October, but that was a mere seven days before I was due to give birth, so we didn't think it was really wise to buy tickets. So of course I find out today that due to Bono's back surgery (sorry, Bono!)they have canceled the American leg of their tour. Because apparently, the universe just does not want me to see U2. My sister tried to console me. She said that she would set up her big, fifteen by fifteen foot outdoor screen in the back yard. She would rent a U2 concert DVD and play it for me. She would also char...

So I recently got a new cell phone, and with it, a new number. Well, new to me, anyway. However, it seems as if the person who possessed the number before me got rid of it because she was getting chased by so many creditors/old boyfriends/holistic health colleges and the like that she chose to move on. And lucky me was the next recipient. When I first got the phone, I would get about ten or fifteen calls and texts a day, all to "Stephanie." I never answered the phone, because I hadn't even given the number out to anyone yet, and I knew it wasn't for me. The calls and texts have somewhat tapered off, but yesterday someone from a place that sounded suspiciously like Stephanie's place of employment called and left a message. That's when I decided to change the voicemail on the phone from the standard computerized message to a personalized one. And it goes a little bit like this: Hi, you've reached a phone number that is no longer Stephanie's. Stephanie ch...

Now I know that this post may be TMI for some, but I have to share this with people because the fact is, my anti-wrinkle cream just ruined the last three days of my life. You see, I'm turning forty next year and I looked in the mirror and said, "Oh shit!" Years of sunbathing without much sunblock have definitely taken a toll on my skin, even though at age 32 or so, I swore off tanning and wear sunblock and hats pretty religiously. Still, I had at least 12 years of hardcore sun under my epidermis, and it was showing. So I read through the reviews on Sephora (my crack provider) and chose Philosophy's Save Me. It had high ratings, and I know that Philosophy is a good brand. I ordered it online because who the hell has time to shop at a Sephora store? I received it, and started using it right away because dude, I needed help. It was about that time when Ms. P began being crabby. Whiny, non-sleepy crabby. The kind of crabby that drives you up and wall and then makes y...

When I first began blogging, I didn't tell anyone but my husband. In those first heady years, I didn't feel the need to share what was my supportive, lovely blogging community with my family. I remember being rather obsessed with blogging, the writing, visiting other blogs, and getting to "know" people. As much as anyone can "know" people online, although I have had the privilege of meeting many of my bloggy friends, and they are every bit as fabulous (usually even moreso) in person. But still, for some reason, I never told them. I very recently told my sister, who I pretty much tell EVERYTHING. I think she was a bit shocked to hear of my secret online life, which with being Captain of the OC Metblogs, writing professionally for my other site, and this lil ole thing that started it all, was pretty large. Sometimes I catch myself starting to talk about the things I've written or read on the blogs when I'm with my family, and I have to bite the wo...

My sister had told me that she was going to visit a yoga class with her friend, you know, the kind where the friend wants to drag you along because it's free and supposedly more fun than sitting at home. Although most of the time, I would beg to differ. Anyhoo, she was thinking the whole thing was going to be pretty funny, because even though she has always been active, she is not flexible. And by that I mean even in her physical prime, she could never touch her toes. I was talking to my dad and mentioned my sister's impendeng embarassment experiment in yoga, and reminded him of how unflexible my sister is. "Oh," he said, "She's not unflexible, she just has short arms." It took me a minute to process that and I dedided to spare my dad a disagreement and moved on. However, I told my sister what he had said, and of course we couldn't stop laughing because who ever heard of someone not being able to touch their toes because their arms were too short...

Spring school portraits were taken a while ago, and I had allowed Mr. P to choose the background he liked best to pose with. I figured that if he were enthusiastic about the fake location he was supposed to be in, he would not have as fake a smile as he seems to be displaying in photos lately. Ever the lover of the outdoors, he wanted the scene of him standing ostensibly on the shores of an unnamed lake, with blue sky, mountains, and grasses rounding out a very pastoral setting. When we got the pictures back, I showed them to Hubba-hubba. "Why is my kid standing in the middle of a swamp?" I guess we won't be ordering any.