Nonsense

The menace of ill-mannered motorists

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road_rage_is_bad copy“Mom, is that guy a redneck?” Colin asks me while I’m driving and some jerkwad is following so close I could easily elbow him in the throat from where I’m sitting.

I swear to God, I have nothing against rednecks and I don’t believe I’ve ever called someone a redneck. I don’t know where Colin may have picked up the term.

Probably from some hillbilly at school.

Ever since the kids were little, I’ve worked really hard to control what comes out of my mouth when we’re in the car, lest I start a long, unproductive conversation about the driving habits of others. People might view kvetching about other drivers as therapeutic, but it serves only to raise my blood pressure and teach people around here how to swear.

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Nonsense, Parenting

Teenagers might one day be the death of me

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stanley_valley copyOur wedding anniversary was Sunday, and Mike and I slept in separate rooms.

It wasn’t like that. He did spend the better part of an hour trying to make a fire for me in a teensy stove, but there wasn’t much for kindling and the wood may have been a little wet. The room would be warm enough anyway once all the girls returned to the cabin.

When I looked up this place online I read about a lodge that sleeps 50 on the shores of Alturas Lake with a view of the Sawtooth Mountains. There would be en-suite bathrooms, linens and towels and hand stitched quilts and a staff to serve meals in a common dining area.

It sounded rather swanky for a labor-day weekend orientation for twenty or so Rotary foreign exchange students, but maybe the intent was to start their year off with a bang.

In retrospect the fact that I thought we were staying in that lodge is a little funny.

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Nonsense

This is exactly why we can’t have nice things

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ironman copyMike says he can’t remember his dreams, but when he does, he’s sometimes running from the law. I imagine he’s not remembering why he’s on the lam because his subconscious is taking the fifth.

Ironically, those of us around here most likely to have something weighing on our conscience are also the ones with completely pleasant dreams we do remember.

“What’s that word for being in the middle of a dream where you realize you’re actually dreaming?” Jack asked me this afternoon.

I’d forgotten there was such a term, so I looked it up. It’s a lucid dream.

Anytime I have a dream where I realize I’m actually dreaming, I immediately try to do one of two things: fly like superman, or ask Tony Stark if he’s in the mood to come up to my place for a nightcap.

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Nonsense

A poster girl for posers

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hipster copyMike forwarded me an article recently about how hipsters are turning their noses up at their signature beer. It’s apparently become too mainstream.

Makes me feel sorry, poor hipsters. What are they going to drink now when they’ve had too much poor-over coffee and their nerves are frazzled, or it’s just time for an aperitif for their dinner of wild kale and kimchi tacos?

And then I feel super bad because I like kale and kimchi (mostly), and I’m sort of a food snob, and most definitely a beer snob. Who am I to make fun of hipsters?

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Nonsense

Embracing my inner curmudgeon

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old_man_on_the_bench copyYou GUYS I’m on the Fun Committee!

Hang on. I just wiped out the stores in my enthusiasm department. I need to sit down.

I don’t mean to poke too much fun at the Fun Committee. Being assigned to a task that involves pulling people together for no other reason than to enjoy each other’s company is something I really enjoy.

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Nonsense

Just picking my ego up off the floor …

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books copyMaybe you’ve guessed I don’t keep this blog up for the fame or fortune, nor the many interesting requests I get from people who want me to post reviews on their dog accessories, toys or skin care systems for free (your readers would really love to know about our new, interactive floor mat … would they now, really?).

Although, maybe you have a life and don’t spend a lot of time thinking about my motivation. I occasionally get comments from people who are worried about my sanity, or the safety of my children, but maybe that’s not you.

If you want to know the truth, I don’t spend a lot of time thinking about it either. I enjoy dumping the contents of my brain out, sorting through the garbage, and then sharing whatever seems to make sense. Sometimes people tell me it makes them snort coffee out their nose.

I was going for poignancy, but okay.

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Nonsense, Parenting

It still might be awkward if you invite a horse

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RodeoLiving where we do, it’s odd that I’ve been to so few rodeos.

I remember going to one as a kid. I cried because of the calves being thrown around and because a rodeo clown made fun of an old, swaybacked horse. I guess I was kind of a bummer date.

But I tried it again, when we were camping near Joseph, Oregon. By that time I had kids of my own, who were still really small. The weather was sweltering, and the beer was refreshing, and I was very thirsty.

Later, Mike politely complied when I requested he pull off the highway so I could yell at my shoes. That was followed by the mother of all hangovers, and a hot, sticky day camping with a toddler in training pants and a baby in diapers.

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Nonsense

Mommy Wanabees and Monkey Poop

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chimp_does_hamlet copyI don’t get a lot of snarky comments on my blog, and for that I’m grateful.

But this showed up the other day:

“To be honest, I didn’t see the Mommy relationship in this blog…”

Huh. Suddenly I’m in English Lit class circa 1990.

The comment was left on a site that compiles a pool of “mommy bloggers,” on which I’ve listed my blog. The site drives a fair amount of traffic my way, assuming I can keep toward the top of the polls. It’s the reason I keep nagging you to click on the button at the bottom of each post.

So I’m a “mommy blogger” specifically in the humor category. There are others blogs here in the contest and giveaway category, stay at home mom category, adoptive parents, special needs parenting, and … you get the picture.

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Nonsense

How not to watch the game (Part II)

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kibbie_dome copy_partII… I don’t know if it’s all that important, but I was not affiliated with any particular political party at the time my boyfriend and I were saving seats for the Campus Democrats at our Homecoming game (if you missed yesterday’s post, here you go), but still perfectly happy to stave off drunk fraternity guys for a full two hours for a governor my parents had actively worked to keep from office just a year or two before.

My parents, probably trying to avoid showing how completely distraught they were over my dating this guy, were really good sports about the whole thing.

We arrived before the fraternity pledges who were supposed to be saving seats, and taped “Reserved for the Governor’s Party” signs to a section a few rows up from the field. We chatted for a while as people started to show up for the game.

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Nonsense

How not to watch the game (Part I)

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kibbie_dome copyI had a college boyfriend who lived by the principle that if one expects the worst from life, he’ll never be disappointed. I told myself he was a philosopher.

Not surprisingly, this guy was kind of a bummer to be around. I cannot fathom why I didn’t tell him to shine on after our first date. For some reason, I was terribly worried that, with as little as he had going for him, he’d find me lacking.

Anyway, this isn’t about him, or where my head was while I was dating him.

This piece actually started to be about making decisions based on love rather than on fear, and expecting the best. I was inspired by a clip from a commencement address Jim Carrey gave at some school for existential transcendental meditators or something.

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