My husband has aÂ 1-800 numberÂ for work that is very close toÂ one of the American Idol voting numbers (number 12Â to be precise).Â The last two nights he has recieved at least a hundredÂ calls during the hour or so after the show is done airing.Â He has started answering his blackberryÂ during this timeÂ with the phraseÂ “Vaginal wart remover”Â just to see what people will say.Â It’s quite funny to hear people’s puzzled responses.Â “Ummmm… American Idol?”Â “No, you’ve reached vaginal wart remover.”
Archive for February, 2007
This morning myÂ son (13 years old) had aÂ Kool Aid mustache on his upper lipÂ and a zit on his nose.Â It wasÂ the perfect visual representation of him right now…Â caught betweenÂ the joys of childhood and some of the misery of being a teenager.
The dance was fun.Â I served refreshments.Â Tay had 2 girls ask him to dance, but he said “No!” to both of them.Â Rea danced with one of Tay’s (less shy) friends.
Chris and I slow danced.Â It was sweet and romantic.Â We did get busted by Mrs. H. for “necking;”Â luckily the kids don’t know what “necking” is…
Hmmm… but maybe it’s like pornography and you know it when you see it?
Well, the kids have finally reached the “acceptance stage” of grief-they aren’t happy with the chaperoning situation of tonight’s dance, but they are dealing with it.Â
One prediction:Â by 7 pm I will have talked at least one crying girl out of a locked stall in the ladies room….
Friday I received a call to chaperoneÂ a middle school dance this weekend.Â I agreed and offered up the service of my spouse.Â I expected some mild grousing on the subject from my middle schoolers.Â Instead I was met with thisÂ response:
“You are so mean.Â I hate you!”
“I hate you!Â You must hate me to do this to me; but I hate you more.”
“I am scarred for life.Â I hate you!”Â
“IÂ am going to goÂ farÂ away for college and never come back because I hate you!”
“I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!”
Notice a trend here?Â My daughter is very dramatic, but usually about things like getting a cell phone (“Don’t you care if I get kidnapped?Â IÂ could get kidnapped and then you would never see me again… all because you didn’t buy me a cell phone.”Â )Â OrÂ cleaning her room (“I’ll never get it done!Â You put too much pressure on me I have too much to do, etc….”)Â My tactic is usually to pay little attention to these outbursts; I’ll send her to room to calm down and deal with her then.Â But this amount of griefÂ overÂ my presence at a dance was upsetting;Â am I really that embarrassing?Â I wonder because my son’s response toÂ the news was calmer than my daughters, but not much less damning.Â
It’sÂ five below zero today andÂ guess whose car wouldn’t start this morning?Â TheÂ BMW or my 1997 Toyota RAV4?Â Yep, I was driving Chris to work this morning inÂ my shiny old Toyota.Â Gotta love the car 180,000 miles and still running (knock on wood).
The other night my husband broughtÂ me flowers.Â In the darkened hallway they looked like they might be roses…. “roses?” I inquired.Â His response:Â “No, I got these at the grocery store and roses were like ten bucks, these were only five.”Â Ahhh……Â maybe he should have stopped at “No”Â
But honestly, once you are married and the bank account is joint, expensive flowers seem somehow less romantic.Â I’d rather have my husband scrub the bathroom floor.Â (Now that is cheap and romantic!)
Yesterday my office was amongst the many businesses (no, they weren’t all bars despite the Journal Star article) that were broken into Sunday night.Â
I arrived at work at 8 am to find the front door open.Â Stupidly, I walked right in and started looking around; the front door had beenÂ jimmied (cop talk via LÂ & O, of course);Â drawers were opened;Â it was freezing, but nothing appeared to be missing.Â It was quite bizarre.Â I called my boss and told her “I think we have beenÂ burgled.”Â She told me to call the police and she would be in soon.Â Shortly afterwards our landlord pulled upÂ to his business next door.Â I ran over andÂ told him the situation; his restaurant had been robbed, too.Â The arcade games were missing their quarters;Â his “first dollar” plaque was smashed, resulting in aÂ bifurcated, unspendable dollar bill and the fridge was left open.Â
The police officer arrived.Â She was very nice and professional.Â Later crime scene guys came and took a picture of our door, including a previously unnoticed (by me) footprint on our door.Â It hadn’t been jimmied, merely forced open, resulting in a broken knob and lock.Â
The strangest thing is that they walked right by all of our office equipment; they didn’t steal our petty cash or make a mess.Â
The police told us theyÂ had already caught the thieves.Â They were shown on the news last night;Â four boysÂ eighteen orÂ nineteen years old.Â I keep trying to picture themÂ walking through our office, touching our stuff.Â It’s hard to imagine.
What is even harder to imagine is how they got started robbing businesses.Â How did four people manage to come to an agreement to do something so wrong?Â Did one say “Let’s risk our futuresÂ and steal other people’s hard earned money?” and all the rest said “sure, how about tonight?”Â
Last Friday I took the afternoon off work and Chris and I went to see the Ansel Adams exhibit at Lakeview Museum.Â It was outstanding.Â The scenery shots were so beautiful; the contrast between the black and white/and all the shades in between was amazing.Â I also really, really loved a photograph of Georgia O’Keefe.Â The photo has her and another man and the expression on her face is unexplainable.Â She looks lively, flirtatious, happy; like someone you would meet and feel an instant connection to, if that makes any sense.Â It’s not that sheÃ‚Â was beautiful but nevertheless immensely appealing (“crushable”).Â My otherÂ favorite wasÂ of a place called Moonrise, Hernandez, a small town in New Mexico.Â
Inspecting my son’s lackadaisical dish washing;Ã‚Â “Tay these are greasy.Ã‚Â There’s only two things that I like greasy, my men and my wine.”Ã‚Â