Just Another Day

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We had to attend some meetings in preparation for the baptism of Mr. P into the Catholic Church that is happening on Sunday around three o'clock. The first meeting was lame, with leaders who felt inclined to share some overly personal details about their life that I couldn't have cared less about. But the second meeting was led by one of those people who you can feel that live their faith. And I have to say, I admire that in people, I really do. A lot of the time, they seem so sure about themselves and their place in the world. I have to add that also a lot of the time, people can get a false sense of superiority about their faith and relationship with God that can really bug me. But this lady was someone who I felt was not blinded by her faith, but someone who had her eyes open and worked toward her goal of a better relationship with God, and in turn, with others. She said something that struck me. She said that as parents of the Catholic faith, modeling our faith was g

Unburden yourself, what's the next task or deadline that is looming over you?

The gorgeous Beenzzz had a post that attempted to describe herself in words. She did a really wonderful job, and that prompted me to think about how I would do the same. I am borderline OCD, yet can be lazier than anyone you've ever met. I watch too much TV and spend much too much time on the internets. I have a lipstick fetish. I enjoy sports, although I haven't played any lately. I dislike clutter, it makes me uncomfortable. I contradict myself all the time, unfortunately. I am a horrible debater. I enjoy nail polish, but only on my toenails. I have a semi-photographic memory, even though Hubba-hubba declares there is no such thing. Music helps me feel good. I sing at the drop of a hat, although not all that well. I enunciate extremely well. I have a hard time showing any kind of "poker face" and usually people can see right through me. I like to think that I put people at ease. I can talk to almost anyone. I am a good listener, and have learned the ha

I used to say it all the time to Hubba-hubba. Whenever he would do something that in my opinion was past being fixable, I would throw my hands up and exclaim, "It's too late now!" I suppose I say it with a certain inflection of exasperation, if I am to be honest. Did he forget to bring in the restaurant leftovers from the car? "It's too late now!" Did he put my brand new cast-iron skillet in the dishwasher? "It's too late now!" Fail to apply stain remover to the chocolate on Mr. P's shirt, thus setting it forever? "It's too late now!" I also suppose I hadn't realized the ubiquitousness of the phrase. It was just such a handy one, one that fit many situations with just the right amount of drama and flair. But when I forgot that I had forbidden Mr. P to have dessert for a transgression earlier in the day, yet provided him with a treat, I was subjected to a triumphant "It's too late now!" Maybe it's time

Back in March, Suzanne at Mimilou nominated me as a "Thinking Blogger." And apparently not exercising the said attribute, I didn't copy the little logo thingy and I didn't write about it because Suzanne had chosen not to include all the rules and what I will term "tag-backs." I also didn't write about it because I actually thought it was kind of funny that someone would proclaim me as some sort of deep-thinking blogger. I was flattered, and just thought Suzanne was being her normal sweetheart of a self to mention me. Then, lo and behold, I was tagged over this weekend by no less than Sonia and Awesome Mom . Ladies, I thank you. I usually try to keep my posts lighthearted and witty and whatnot, but sometimes I get a bee in my bonnet and feel the need to address an issue. When I do, I am not necessarily unpartisan or objective. But, I try to coherently lay my case, and at least let someone who doesn't think the same way get some insight as to wh

Interesting title, eh? I say that because I am no longer going to eat fish. Sorry, I should have warned you to sit down first. It's not because fish aren't healthy, or low-fat, or contain all kinds of good acids and such, or even because a grilled halibut steak tastes darn good with some tartar sauce. I am saying that because I have read this recent Pulitzer Prize winning series on the state of our oceans. If you don't have the time to read the entire thing, let me give you the short book, a request that Hubba-hubba makes often. We are polluting our oceans so badly that we are destroying entire tiers of the oceanic food chain. We are overfishing the ocean so badly that we are destroying entire tiers of the oceanic food chain. We are causing people who rely on the fish they catch as the main source of their diet to fall short in being able to feed their families. We are poisoning the fish, and thus, poisoning ourselves. If we continue on the course we have currently set,

I think I am going to cut my hair off. Well, not all of it, I'm nowhere near pulling a Britney Spears, but at least six or seven inches. Which would put the length to my shoulders. You see, I have recognized in myself a need for change. All this whining and bitching is really just a rather impotent cry for help. Things in my life need to be shaken up, so to speak. And although Hubba-hubba's schedule has changed, I need it to be a change that I have some amount of control over. I think there is a huge difference in choosing to change something rather than having a change imposed upon you. Am I right? I had very short hair for a goodly portion of my life, and maybe I will revisit the very short hair look when I am a grandma, but not yet. But is it bad form for a 36 year old to have long hair? Isn't thirty the new twenty or something of the sort, so shouldn't I be ok? Even if forty is the new thirty, I still might be able to slide in. My one stipulation is that I

When you get new clothes, do you care if they are washed before you put them on?

The scene: Gina's kitchen Gina: (rubbing her fingers together in anticipatory delight a la Mr. Burns) Man, I sure could go for some of those chocolate chip cookies from Trader Joe's that we just bought. Hubba-hubba: silence Gina: (picking up bag and peering into it, then shrieking in outrage) Wait a minute, there aren't any cookies left! Oh, wait, there is exactly ONE freakin' cookie left. Hubba-hubba: silence Gina: Really, why didn't you just go ahead and just eat them all? Why leave only one measly cookie? Hubba-hubba: Because I didn't want to give you the satisfaction of being able to say that I ate ALL them.

There is nothing like your child being very ill and coughing up a lung pretty much every fifteen minutes to force you into getting just a teensy bit of perspective. Even worse, knowing that you were the one that pushed his poor little body to have a temperature of 102 for three days definitely makes your priorities magically align. I brought him to the doctor on Wednesday morning, knowing he had a nasal drip, but thinking that it was allergies. I have this dread of not giving him the proper medicine and bungling his treatment, so I sought assurance from his doctor. Yes, yes, allergies seemed to be the culprit. So because he was on vacation, I had a bunch of activities planned, and since it was only allergies, I went full steam ahead with little protest from the child. Did I curtail things when he got worse? No, because when I told him that we may not do X activity because he seemed sick, I got wailing pleading cries to go out, and since I am idiotic enough to listen to a four year

If you could change ONE thing about your life right now, what would it be?

For the first time, since I started this blogging thing oh-so-long ago, I am thinking of hanging up the keyboard. Now, now, I didn't say I would actually do it, but it marks some sort of watershed moment in my life that blogging could no longer be a possiblility. And that I might be ok with that. I don't know if it is the stress of me adjusting to this stupid, stupid work schedule of Hubba-hubba's where he works twice as hard, spends more time at work, and yet has not, and may not, receive a pay raise. Yeah, tell me. But according to him it is all about the opportunity, Gina, and the chance to do something different. Which I can sort of understand, so I will play along. You see, I take things personally, like lack of comments, and instantly turn it into ME. Because it has always been and will always be about ME. Because some months weeks days that is just how I roll. I must not be funny enough or engaging enough. And why, oh why, did that person that I left a p

Last Friday, our twelve year old Accord decided it was going to play some reindeer games and nearly drive itself into the back wall of our garage. Or at least that is what Hubba-hubba who was behind the wheel at the time, was afraid was going to happen. So we are left with having to resort to towing the car (thank you Mom and Dad for the new Autoclub membership!) to a mechanic to assess the problem and let us know which arm and which leg would be needed to fix it. Now comes the part where you painstakingly try to ascertain whether if you fix the very old car with 190,000 miles on it would be chasing good money after bad, or if you can swallow the painfully high new car payments. Along with the higher registration fees, and not to mention the increased car insurance. There is something to be said for having an old car which doesn't cost very much on a monthly basis. And then, trying to perform the mental gymnastics to figure out why a used Honda CR-V with 70,000 miles on it costs

Disneyland has a fairly new show based on Star Wars. It relies on audience participation, and they choose children out of the audience to fight Darth Vader up on stage. Hubba-hubba had been trying to convince Mr. P to volunteer, but as he has never seen any Star Wars movie, he had absolutely zero interest in fighting some gravel-voiced man in a black costume. Can't say as I blame him. So, just for fun, Hubba-hubba has been "practicing" with fake light sabers and cheesy dialogue. Darth invites the young Jedi to join the Dark Side, to which he responds, "Never!" Fast forward to Easter Sunday, where a little boy who has a penchant for mischief was over for the egg hunt. This little boy likes to cause trouble, and Mr. P actually doesn't like playing with him all that much. But, he was invited, so they wound up playing together. Trouble had indeed ensued, from chalk being dumped into my sister's fish pond to balls purposely being thrown over the wall in

My good buddy Sonia is donating a dollar to autism research for every comment she gets on her blog. Let's go and force her to write a rather sizable check!

Listen, just because you have a life doesn't mean you can't comment on my blog anymore! I don't have one, so you realize I must live vicariously through you. So, enough with the life, ok? Now, two years ago I requested a toaster/convection oven for a Christmas present. Yes, insert joke here. Anyhoo, I find that I use it all the time . Seriously, it heats up bread and leftovers and pizza and chicken dinosaurs and all sorts of wonderful things much better than a microwave ever could. Which appliance (and your refrigerator doesn't count) do you use the most? And let's keep this G-rated, 'k? ;)

Welcome to the "woman power" edition of Pointless Points Trivia, where the points don't matter! That is, unless you dislike See's chocolate.... Who became the first ever elected female president in the Western Hemisphere in 1990?

Do you know what I got for my birthday last month? I'll tell you in case you don't. Big fat wads of cash. Yes, about four hundred dollars worth of glorious cash to spend on whatever I wished. Mostly, I wanted clothes, and I told everyone that, which is why so many checks and greenbacks found their way to me. And do you know that no matter how hard I try, I cannot find anything that I like. I have trolled websites, I have shown up at stores, salivating at the thought that I could actually pick something off the rack and pay for it right then and there! I wouldn't have to wait for it to go on sale and pray that they still had my size available, or cry tears into my pillow at night that I could not afford the pretty, pretty shirt or skirt or whatever. I mean, I don't really cry into my pillow at night about pretty clothes and my lack of ability to afford them. Er, often. I don't make a regular habit of it or anything, ok? Seriously, just kidding. Anyway, now that

I have a cousin who is a senior in high school this year. This will be her last prom, and as any normal teenager would, she wants it to be special. I remember how important it was to find the "perfect" dress and agonized over my nail polish and had fun renting the limo and making the dinner reservations. However, if I had asked my parents to take me to another state in order to purchase my dress, the laughter would have been heard in another state. But, my aunt, ever the indulgent baby-boomer parent, acquiesced to trekking six hours across the desert in order to ensure that NO ONE else would have the same prom dress. Oh. My. God. I mean, they are my relatives and I love them dearly, but even I could not prevent myself from snorting in disbelief when I heard they were coming this past weekend. I understand it is a bit easier since they have free lodging here in California, and we all enjoy seeing each other. But, the Shopping Death March that occurred over the weekend lef

Up until about two weeks ago, we didn't have a cellphone. Mainly because we didn't really need it. Hubba-hubba was always reachable at work since they provided him with a cellphone, and me, well, I don't really go all that many places so it seemed a bit useless. But, remember when we thought we were going to put our house up for sale? We thought, we will need a cell in order for our realtor to keep in touch about all the multiple offers we were expecting (har), and then we also thought that it would suck the big one to share the use of my parent's phone line while we were staying there. So a new, expensive cell was purchased. It was black and sleek and had all kinds of buttons that I needed my 13 year old cousin to help me figure out. It took pretty good pictures, and I had at least figured out how to set Mr. P as my wallpaper. Notice I keep talking about it in the past tense? That is because in the space of less than twenty minutes, it was gone. Lemme explain. I wa