Just for fun

I can’t quit yawning so here’s nothing interesting

I loved all the comments from yesterday and would like to give a special shout out to those of you who brought up Savannah Smiles. I had completely forgotten about that movie, although it created in me a deep desire to have a daughter named Savannah.

Needless to say, that didn’t happen. Although I did have a Baby Tender Love that I named Savannah. She was the younger sister of my other baby dolls who were named Mandy, Candy, Sandy, Randy and Andy. I thought the rhyming names were very clever and unique.

Clearly I spent too much time using rubber glue.

But that’s neither here nor there.

The other movie that was mentioned was The Incredible Shrinking Woman with Lily Tomlin. I honestly almost put this on my list because the scene with Pat Kramer in the garbage disposal caused me to have some serious garbage disposal issues for years, but in the end I left it off in favor of Saturday Night Fever. I have no real reason other than it was just a gametime decision.

And then y’all beat me to the sequel because I was totally planning a completely lame follow-up containing movies that spoke to me as a teenager. It was going to be an in-depth look at how the movies of John Hughes completely changed my life. A comparison and contrast between the various Molly Ringwald characters and how each symbolized various facets of the high school hierarchy and the ensuing impact in American culture.

Totally kidding. It would have been more like this.

Molly Ringwald as Andi in Pretty in Pink was pretty much the coolest movie character ever and totally made me want to make my own prom dress, drive a Karmen Ghia, and date a rich boy named Blaine so that I could confront him dramatically in the hallway and yell, “WHAT ABOUT PROM, BLAINE? WHAT ABOUT PROM?”

And also, Jake Ryan. Total hotness.

And Judd Nelson. “Does Barry Manilow know you’ve been raiding his wardrobe?”

These are the movies that defined and shaped my teen angst.

I also loved Karate Kid even though it always bothered me that Elisabeth Shue’s head was much larger than Ralph Macchio’s head. I’m sure they are both lovely people but the discrepancies in their head size caused me to have trouble viewing them as a believable couple.

Although the rest of the movie was absolutely believable.

Then there are just the natural choices. Ferris Bueller. Dirty Dancing. Karate Kid II. Top Gun. Back to the Future. Footloose. Rocky IV. St. Elmo’s Fire. Some Kind of Wonderful.

Oh and I can’t forget Teen Wolf. I even remember what I wore to see Teen Wolf because I was meeting a boy I had a huge crush on at the movie theater and I carefully planned my outfit. Guess jeans, royal blue Guess sweatshirt with orange and red puffy letters that spelled GUESS, red socks and white keds.

I’d totally wear that same outfit tomorrow. It’s timeless.

Just like all these movies.
The hormones have run amuck

Yesterday I went to see my ob/gyn. Of course, since I’m not pregnant, I guess he’s just my gyn. The ob part of his duties have been fulfilled.

Although truth be told he wasn’t on call the night Caroline was born and his partner was busy with an emergency c-section so she literally had her hands full. Satan was my nurse and refused to give me the epidural because she wasn’t convinced I was in labor which, at that point, was the equivalent of saying she wasn’t sure if I was pregnant.

But, really, I’m over it.

I certainly don’t mention it to him every time I see him. And, hypothetically speaking, if I do mention it every time I see him it’s only because I’m waiting for some kind of plaque or even a small trophy rewarding my heroic efforts for getting to ten centimeters without the aid of an epidural when my original birth plan clearly stated I’d like the epidural two weeks prior to delivery.

It was a monumental feat for someone who begins to hyperventilate at the mere mention of having blood drawn or having to go on a week-long vacation with only one suitcase.

Anyway, I scheduled an appointment a few weeks ago when I looked in the mirror and discovered my hormones were under the impression that I was thirteen years old. Not only was my chin completely in need of some Clearasil, but I started to cry when I realized we were out of Smart Start. And then I wrote a note to P asking if he still liked me and to check yes or no.

I explained all this to my ob/gyn and he agreed that something had definitely shifted. Thankfully he did not tell me I was in some kind of early menopause because I would have started screaming for an epidural. Instead he thought we should change my birth control pills.

If we could make a clear decision about whether or not to have another baby, I wouldn’t be stuck in this pill purgatory. But, alas, I have a hard time making decisions about what type of potato chips to buy at HEB so, clearly, I can’t be expected to make a decision as monumental as bringing another human into the world.

Another baby? Not another baby?

Cheetos? Doritos?

It’s enough to make my head explode.

So, I took my first Yaz pill last night even though I have a problem with Yaz because of their commercials that make it appear that when women are out with our friends we sit around and casually talk about the side effects of birth control pills.

“Remember Suzie, you shouldn’t use an MAO Inhibitor if you are currently taking Yaz. Also, it may increase your chances of headaches, stroke, or having mind-numbing conversations with your girlfriends who wish you’d shut your trap about the pharmacodynamics of Yaz.”

At this moment I have a hormonal headache, slight nausea and an overwhelming urge to throw a toaster oven through the kitchen window.

In other words, I’m totally back to normal.

Obviously, it’s going to take a few days to adjust to my new hormonal regimen.

In the meantime, I’m stocking up on Sea Breeze astringent because it totally cleared my face up back in 1986.

Let’s hope it can work a similar miracle twenty-two years later.

By the way, P checked yes. I totally knew he liked me.
Reunited and it feels so good

Who needs snack cakes of any sort when there is this kind of goodness in the world?

I ate this constantly while I was pregnant with Caroline and then, suddenly, they quit making it.

There was much wailing, gnashing of teeth, and rending of garments.

But, lo, it is back on my grocer’s frozen goods shelf.

Just in time for bathing suit season.

Perfect.
Remember the olden days when phones had a cord?

In defense of my skiing skills after P outed me in yesterday’s comments, let me just say that it MAY be true that I was only on a Blue slope when I cried and tried to slide down on my bottom, but it felt like a Black Diamond and that should count for something. In addition, I don’t ski like a 90 year old woman but more like a spry, young 85.

I just had to get that out.

Also, several of y’all had comments about the amount of Charmin in the Target shopping cart. It was only two six-packs. Granted, they are of the super-size roll variety (with ALOE) but, in my opinion, toilet paper isn’t something you really want to run out of with short notice. And when you have a four year old who has no idea about the judicious use of toilet paper, it’s a good idea to stock up. Also, a good idea? To have a plunger in the bathroom.

Now, let me tell y’all the reason we were at Target.

I know! You’ve been on pins and needles!

I have been experiencing some major cordless phone issues. And I say “I” because I am the only one who uses our home phone. For all P cares we could get rid of our home number completely, but the idea of that makes me twitch for reasons I do not myself begin to understand.

Anyway, both of our home phones have reached the point where, even if they have been on the charger all night, they go dead after about ten minutes of use. Believe it or not, this isn’t really convenient.

Yet because I have raised procrastination to a new art form, this has been going on for at least three months. I can’t tell y’all how many priceless conversations about various reality television shows have been cut short because my phone started to beep at me to let me know it was about to poop the bed.

It’s been tragic. But, apparently, not tragic enough for me to do anything about it.

Gulley has been offering to buy me a new phone for close to two months because it is hard to carry on a serious conversation when she’s saying, “I’ve been praying and know that…”

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

“OH MAN, my phone is about to go dead. Can I call…”

DEAD.

Check other phone. Didn’t leave it on charger overnight.

DEAD.

Use cell phone once I find it in the bottom of my purse five minutes later. Call Gulley back.

“What were we talking about?”

I’m a good friend.

The worst was a few weeks ago when Boomama and I were on a three-way call with our friend, Vicki. I had already hung up once to call them back using my other phone because the first phone went dead. They did the whole polite laughter thing and joked about my need for a new phone.

Then, right before we hung up, Vicki said she was going to say a quick prayer. She was about halfway through and the line went silent. I promise it was a good, long three minutes before I realized she wasn’t having some deep moment with God, but rather that my second phone had gone dead.

I was totally prepared for her to speak some serious truth in my life because God was clearly giving her some deep insight into my heart and mind.

The only insight she actually received that day was that I am an idiot. With not one, but TWO bad phones.

Of course, in all fairness, it turned out her phone went dead at the same time, so it may have been her fault.

Tuesday morning was the final straw. I was on the phone with Boomama and we were discussing some serious matters such as cute shoes and trouser jeans from Kohls.

BEEP!

Dead.

It didn’t even give me the courtesy of a second BEEP! It was clear that it felt nothing for me, and my conversation about trouser jeans, except pure contempt.

Of course, second phone? DEAD.

I called Sophie back on my cell phone and, before I could say a word, she said, “YOU HAVE GOT TO GET A NEW PHONE. TODAY.”

Reluctantly, I agreed. Although somewhere deep inside of me I have been holding on to the hope that my phone would be healed. I hated the thought of spending $50.00 on a new phone when that is money that could be spent on these shoes.

But those shoes won’t do me any good if I don’t have any friends to go along with them.

It would just be me, my cute shoes and my deadbeat phones holed up in my closet remembering happy times when a phone conversation could last for upwards of thirty minutes.

And that’s why we were at Target. To purchase a new phone.

But once we got there and headed over to the phone aisle, this is what I saw.

Oh sure. Like I can make an intelligent decision with that many choices.

My guiding factor was totally of the OOOH, LOOK HOW PRETTY AND SHINY THAT ONE IS!! variety.

So, we left Target without a new cordless phone but with a surplus of toilet paper, three bags of dog food, and two new cordless phone batteries.

I just can’t quit you Uniden 56MHz. We’ve had some good times.
Oh, I have a question

So, I’ve pretty much hit some kind of creative wall. Either that or life has become so boring in the last few days that I cannot figure out a way to make it interesting.

In fact, I told Boomama yesterday that if things don’t pick up I’ll either have to shut the blog down or start making stuff up.

Clearly, I’d choose option B and just make stuff up.

To give you an example of my outstanding lack of anything interesting to say, here is what we did this weekend:

1. I poured some vinegar into my bathroom sinks and let it soak to remove the hard water deposits.

Fascinating.

2. P revamped our outdoor illumination system and our home can now be seen from outer space. The FBI uses less wattage to perform interrogations.

Which I know from all those times I’ve been interrogated.

3. The time change screwed up our schedule and I slept too late to make it to church on Sunday morning.

Actually, P woke me up about five minutes before we needed to walk out the door to make it on time, but since I am not Jane Jetson, it wasn’t going to happen.

4. I went to Borders and bought a new, hot pink notebook to record all my thoughts.

It has about 100 pages, which should be plenty.

5. I cleaned out my closet and got out all my spring shoes.

So, basically, SNOOZE.

I realize there have been times in the past where I’ve created an entire post out of cleaning my closet, but it’s been done to death. Plus, it’s not nearly so interesting when I haven’t added anything new to the process. My closet looks just like it did this time last year after I cleaned it out, except for the removal of a pink Banana Republic sweater whose time had come and some brown, wedge heels that never fit right but I had kept them hoping my heel would become fatter and they’d actually stay on.

It didn’t.

Last night I went to Bible Study and told the girls that Big Mama was out of material, because we all refer to Big Mama as if she is a third party. I told them that when they pulled up Big Mama tomorrow on their computers all they would find was a recipe for Chicken Cakes.

I was totally prepared and resigned to play the Chicken Cake card.

But LO, THE SUN! My dear Bible study friend, Amy G., mentioned she is trying to come up with a great chapter book to read to her fourth grade class. She asked us about some of our favorite chapter books from the fourth grade.

The wheels began to turn and I said, “WAIT, I’ll ask the internet about their favorite fourth grade books and hold off on posting the Chicken Cake recipe!”

Your disappointment is palpable.

Fourth grade was a stellar time for me and my love of books. I mean, it wasn’t like I had a really busy social schedule, other than talking to my boyfriend Jonathan every Monday afternoon on the phone while my mama drove my sister to dance class, because I certainly didn’t want her to know I was talking to a boy on the phone. Embarrassing.

Jonathan and I had a secret romance that was comprised largely of three passed notes, a few clandestine Monday afternoon phone calls, and a silver necklace with a Hershey Kiss pendant that he gave me for Valentines Day. Shortly thereafter we broke up because he felt I was using him. I didn’t know what that meant, but he heard it from his friend Phillip who was clearly much wiser in matters of the heart.

Anyway, what I’m saying is I loved to read books and, when I found one I loved, I read it over and over again. I would sneak into my closet at night, turn on the light and stay up way too late reading books.

In fact, my book collection was so vast that I actually created my own private library using the shelves of my closet, complete with alphabetical listings and a mini-card catalogue so that my friends could check out my books.

Oddly enough, I didn’t have that many friends.

But my fourth grade social life isn’t the point. The point is what books did you read and love in the fourth grade or sometime in that time frame? Here are some we mentioned:

Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing (obvious choice)
Super Fudge
Blubber
Otherwise Known as Sheila the Great (clearly, Judy Blume rules)
Soup by Robert Newton Peck
Island of the Blue Dolphins
Where the Red Fern Grows
The Shining (totally kidding, but wanted to make sure you’re paying attention)
Ralph, the Motorcycle Mouse

Those are just a few in what I am sure is a vast sea of quality fourth grade reading material. What are some great books we are leaving out?

And for the four guys who read this blog, we need some manly input as well. Be brave.
Because I am all about looking berry young

I’m sorry to report that I have no update on the neighbor situation. All I know is that there are tire imprints in the grass. But to my knowledge, there has been no bloodshed.

I will continue to update if there are any new or interesting developments. Personally, I’m hoping Tom will retaliate by driving his Ford Taurus through the neighbor’s newly planted grass while laughing maniacally. I realize it wouldn’t be the best way to handle the situation, but I’m not thinking about that. I’m thinking about my own personal enjoyment.

In other news, I record the Oprah show every day.

Wow.

That IS big news.

Now, out of a week’s worth of Oprah’s, I usually just watch one or two. I try to focus on the episodes that will teach me how to be a better person and embrace life.

Actually, that’s not true.

I only watch the episodes that feature a celebrity, home decorating, or something else equally as shallow. Because why would I want to learn anything more useful than how to artfully arrange family portraits or that Jim Carrey wrote a letter to Carol Burnett when he was eleven years old?

That is enough knowledge for me.

However, all that changed a few weeks ago. Normally if I start my DVRed episode of Oprah and I see Dr. Oz I automatically hit delete because SNOOZE.

But on this particular day, he lured me in because he was talking about how to effectively fight aging. It was in the midst of a particularly difficult time for me involving the discovery of a rebel brigade of gray hairs taking over my bang region and the realization that I now have a permanent parenthesis on one side of my nose leading down to my mouth.

It’s just a matter of time before my entire mouth region is in permanent parentheses. Or worse, quotation marks.

So anyway Dr. Oz and Oprah were talking about aging. They said a lot of stuff about eating broccoli and spinach blah, blah, blah, but I need something easier than that. I prefer my broccoli swimming in cream of mushroom soup and Cheez Whiz and I have a strong suspicion that’s not doing much for my LDL levels.

But then Dr. Oz mentioned something that has TWICE the antioxidant power of blueberries and EIGHT GAZILLION TIMES more antioxidant properties than red wine, it’s called the Acai Berry. It comes in a delightful juice form that you can drink while simultaneously turning back the hands of time.

I totally bought into it. It’s so simple. And then I googled this marvel called the Acai berry and discovered I can also get it in capsule form.

Well the only thing better than that would be if they could put it in Diet Coke.

So yesterday morning I went to Whole Foods Market to purchase some Acai Berry Capsules. They are ALL NATURAL and STRAIGHT FROM THE TREES (or maybe a bush) IN BRAZIL. How could they not be healthy? How could they not immediately make my HDL go up and my LDL go down and my skin as radiant as a baby’s behind without diaper rash?

And they were on sale, so I bought a bottle for P too. Because what’s the point in me looking impossibly fresh and young if I’m hanging out with P and his elevated LDL?

Anyway, I came home and took two of them. So far, I haven’t really seen a difference. Although I did curl my hair and it seemed to hold the curl exceptionally well.

I’m not sure if that’s due to some little known follicular benefits of the Acai berry or if it’s because of the 0% humidity.

I’m going to go with the Acai Berry.

Maybe it will even cure my parenthesis.

Oh, and one more thing. I am having some trouble with my web-hosting. It seems that the company that rhymes with Icower has upgraded its system, thereby causing multiple issues. So, if you’ve had problems logging on, that’s the reason. Maybe the Icower could benefit from the Acai berry.

Y’all have a great day.