sticks and stones

Sticks & Stones

So, my dear sister is celebrating her 5th wedding anniversary this weekend. She tells me that a traditional anniversary gift for year number 5 is "wood". Of course, I cackled at the thought of "wood". She rolled her eyes and sighed at my immaturity, then tells me about some wooden thing that she bought for him. I tuned her out because I was too busy thinking of all the 'wood' references she could make.

So, when she's done telling me about the fabulous wooden gift she'd found for her husband, a docking station or a totem pole, or what have you, I ask her what he's going to get for her. "What else" she tells me, "wood". Ha ha ha.. To which I reply, "sounds like you got the short end of the stick".

I shall reference my short- end- of- the- stick joke every day until it gets old. Which it won't. It was....the perfect one-liner.

(picture me taking a theatrical bow).

Mimi the Meanie

I wanted to share a very recent exchange between my son, my husband and myself. My oldest, Ben; 6 1/2 is laying in bed one night, I'm in there putting clothes away, chatting him up before bed. For no particular reason I say to him, "Benny, when you grow up, get married and have babies, I want your kids to call me Mimi, ok"? He isn't too fazed by this request, so he agrees. My husband, Jason overhears this conversation....much like Cindy Brady, he's always evesdropping. Anyway, he hears us and wanders into the bedroom, "What....what's that, you want to be called, Meanie when you're a grandma, ok--no problem, Meanie". No, no, I said MIMI, I want to be called MIMI. 'Alright Meanie if you say so', he tells me.

Ben is cracking up at the idea of his kids hating me. As if hating me himself wasn't enough, he had to pass down the hatred gene, like a treasured jewel. This goes on and on for what seems to be an unusually long amount of time. It's as if they'd rehearsed this whole dialogue and scenario. Jason continues talking in baby talk, "what's that, little baby? Meanie won't let you sit on the couch or touch anything? What now? Meanie won't let you play games or have any fun? Well, we'll just see about that...Papa will make everything alright. Yes, that's right, little baby, you love your papa, not that old, stinkin' Meanie, right"? I'm listening to my son hyperventilate with laughter at my husband's predictions. See what I have to deal with? Like I need this aggrevation. Just say the word boys, and I'll bounce. Peace out.

So, in short, I thought you'd get a kick out of the abuse and torture that I endure each and everyday. I'll admit, the whole conversation was pretty amusing. But, what was different about today's abuse, was that they were plotting to turn my grandchildren against me....who aren't even born yet. It's one thing that they make my life a living hell now, but to scheme against me as an old woman???? That's an entirely different ball of wax. They're just killing me slowly, that's what they're doing. What's next? Cutting my break lines? Ha ha, that would be funny, seeing mommy skitting all over Northland drive. Hee hee.

~Sleeping with one eye open.

all things Christmas that make me go hmmm.

In addition to all the biblical wonderment that the holidays bring, there are also several seasonal influences that are of special interest to me.



For example: The song, Baby it's Cold Outside. I've always referred to it as the Date Rape Song. The lyrics go as follows, "my mother will be pacing the floor...well, maybe just a half a drink more" and "the neighbors will think....say, what's in this drink". My God, the poor girl is trying desperately to get a way from this man and he has the death grip on her and won't let her go. "No, stay, shhhhh, just drink this..." . I can't believe the FCC allows this on the radio. Frankly, I think Eminem has less suggestive lyrics than this freak.



Also. About those inflatable lawn ornaments. Can't you just hang white lights like everyone else? I have on good authority that those things are fairly expensive. Why would anyone in their right mind spend upwards of $100 on anything so useless and ugly? Take that money and throw it out a window in hopes that a bum will find it and treat him or herself to a nice dinner. That would be more useful than buying a 25 foot blow up Santa Sleigh. Not to mention what it costs to keep the thing inflated. Don't get me started. Don't even get me started.

I know I've blogged several times about Christmas letters, so you know my stance on that. Albeit, they're highly entertaining, but they're so obnoxious. This year, I had a li'l fun with m'self as I'm known to do from time to time. During a photo shoot with my family, a girlfriend of mine passed by and spontaneously popped in for a picture. I naturally took advantage of the situation and I composed a Christmas letter that very night, detailing our family's highlights from that year. Our big announcement was that my husband had taken a 2nd wife (of course, I included the picture). My new sister wife would teach me to sew those denim jumpers I'd adorn for so many years and I wrote how we'd prayed together as a family that my hair would grow to an unthinkable length, in order to accompany my 4 foot braid. Don't think for one minute that I'm not sending it out as my Christmas card of '08. As it turns out, that particular friend happens to be pretty hot, so I had a good time victimizing myself as the harried first wife, while she took over the more (ahem) intimate wifely duties. I'm funny like that. You've got to look obnoxiousness in the face and laugh at it!!

Typically, Christmas in my house looks like this: Tree adorn with cranberry & gold decorations. An ever-present smell of spice wafting throughout the house. Dimly lit rooms with little white lights hung on anything that will stand still. Many of my home's decorations consist of outdoorsy things; twigs & berries, garland, gold pinecones and the like. But, I'm bored with it all. This year, I've decided to go all Whitney Houston on Christmas.

We're talking white Christmas trees with bright blue balls. (he he, I said blue balls). Jason, the chir'en and I posing robotically around the tree, wearing only white from head to toe and dripping in more gold than Liberace. White residue left upon our upper lips. (allegedly) Instead of the homey and classic Christmas that I'm used to, my new theme is going to be "new-money-ghetto". And if any of you watched Real Housewives of Atlanta on Bravo this season, you all know what I'm talking about. Justin single handedly brought sexy back and Leslie is officially bringing new-money-ghetto back. As if it was ever out.

Happy Kwaanza to you and yours.