Tricked you with that, huh? She did, I swear…and she didn’t mean to. But first we have to cover off on the early story that leads up to it.
Dallas is not a place you’d think of as a great place to celebrate St. Paddy’s Day. But oh my, is it ever. Every year there is a parade on Greenville Avenue filled with floats, crazy people, partiers and fashion victims.
Witness:
Some people **cough cough** dress their kids up.
Some people **cough cough** let their 8 year old daughters wear their Irish Drinking Glove. Hey, she’s drinking water so it’s okay, right?
Green hair and interesting hats were all the rage…
…as were fishnets and fuzzy green boots.
There were tons of drunk people on floats….
…and people to assist them later in the day.
Because jail really does suck. Not that I have any personal knowledge of that, mind you.
And then there was my friend Gretchen.
We sat there watching the floats go by and teasing people. We’ve been going to the parade together for 20 years now and we are not rookies in the heckling department. When a group of people in wheelchairs went by we reeled it in and politely cheered them on. However. HOWEVER. The guy behind them was on a bike. A special bike. A bike with the pedals up near his hands which Gretchen took as her opportunity to get back into the game and she shouted, “Hey Mister! Your bike is upside down!!!”
Which, yeah, it was. But she was so happy to get back to heckling she missed one key point. They guy only had ONE LEG which I immediately pointed out to Gretchen and Gretchen immediately began to die eleventy million small deaths on the spot.
I’m pretty sure he didn’t hear her because he never looked our way, thank God. I can tell you that Gretchen peered a little closer at her heckling victims the rest of the day though and next year, I’m fairly sure she is going to bring binoculars to make sure we don’t have a repeat of that little incident, God love my slightly near sighted, sweet little friend.
Erin Go Braugh y’all….Have a Happy St. Patricks Day wherever you are!
Well, my new boss came into town last week. I was very focused on getting ready for his visit. Back to back client meetings set up? Check. Presentation materials adequately prepared? Check. Crushed up goldfish crackers and empty juice boxes removed from car? Check. Diva attitude checked at the door?
Yeah, well about that….
The first day went off without a hitch. Weather was gorgeous and I had on a kicky little dress and black patten boots to brace for any unexpected weather. (You in the back with the quizzical look on your face? This is important info…part of the plot line.) (Also, stop laughing at my use of “plot line”.)
The second day however the weather got the best of my resolve to remain in the diva free zone. I didn’t check the weather before I got dressed and bolted out the door to pick my boss up. On the way downtown, I noticed some bothersome clouds in the sky but didn’t give it much thought. After parking the car and walking through downtown to our appointment, I couldn’t ignore it anymore…it was going to rain and I had left my umbrella in the car. So I did what any respectful new employee in very high heels would do, I handed my boss the car key and asked him to go back for it.
Yep, sure did.
Now this isn’t something I’d pull with just any boss. You have to size ‘em up first and make sure they are super nice, which he is. You also have to actually be wearing extremely high heels making it a slower process for you to trot back to the car. I’d give this one an 8 on the diva difficulty scale.
However, I’m never satisfied with staying at the same difficulty level. I like to take my game up a notch or two whenever possible so while we were waiting in the conference room on the 27th floor watching giant black clouds full of rain roll in, the conversation went something like this:
TSM: “Wow, I picked the wrong day to wear python shoes.”
Boss: “Those are python?”
TSM: **stares at shoes with worrisome look**
Boss: **at this point possibly wondering why he chose TSM**
TSM: “Well yes, and they are not shoes, they are Choos.”
Boss: “Shoes.”
TSM: “CHOOS.”
Boss: **at this point DEFINITELY wondering why he chose TSM**
We got through the meeting and a down pore started just as we were leaving the building. My new boss was kind enough to get the umbrella out that he had gotten for us earlier, but I was still thinking of my Choos. No way was I taking those python babies out in the rain. Tell me you would play it differently:
At this point, I went ahead and took the diva factor straight up to a ten. We were on a parking meter that was about to run out of time but it was seriously raining. Decisions had to be made. Risks had to be taken. Shoes had to be saved. So given the choice of manning up and walking through the rain to avoid the meter running out and getting a ticket or making us sit it out in Einstein Bagels to save the shoes?
I chose bagels and the parking ticket.
And amazingly enough, while $35 poorer but still with the Choos intact, I am still employed today.
If I get up early enough, say around 5:30 or so, I can get a good :30 minutes of quiet time in to check my news, read some email and have a blessedly quiet cup of coffee before chaos takes over the minute the children are fully awake and running amock in the house. The activity can easily be broken down into three rounds….
Round 1: Good Morning Sunshine!
My son gets up easily enough. He usually requires a hug before sitting down to breakfast and patiently awaits the attack that is no doubt coming from his little sister who does not share his cheery disposition in the morning. The “argument du jour” will generally start within 10 minutes of her arrival at the breakfast table and will only end after they have fully driven both their father and myself crazy. Oh, and no one will eat the same thing which means my husband and I are running around playing short order cook to two very ungrateful customers who don’t even leave a tip, just a few dishes behind, to thank us.
Round 2: Lights, Camera, Action!
By now it’s off to get dressed which presents another set of unique problems. Mr. C has hair that truly has a life of its own. Overnight, it somehow arranges itself into a style that requires industrial strength product to hold down and even then he sometimes still leaves the house looking like he has a horn sticking out of his head. Also, he is slightly color blind. If you were ever wondering how many times one child can put together a brown on brown outfit in one week, the answer is slightly over one million.
Miss G on the other hand is quite the fashionista. She can mix and match like nobody’s business. Sadly, the weather plays a big part in our mornings here because if it is freezing cold, she prefers t-shirts with spaghetti straps and shorts. However, if it is hot, nothing is going to make her feel fancier than that wool coat with the faux fur trim at the neck and wrists.
Round 3: Let’s Get This Show On The Road!
Usually at this point we are a few minutes to egress. The countdown has started to bus arrival time and The Man gives minute by minute updates on exactly how long the children have to get out the door. Right about now, two things usually happen. First, socks are lost. Sure they were in the drawer last night but now the only socks that are there are the ones that are “yucky and don’t fit right” that surely we cannot expect them to place their precious toes in. Those kids you see at school with the shoes but no socks? Yeah, one of those is usually mine.
Next up, someone will remember they had homework that didn’t get done or a form that needed to be signed and returned. The realization that they have no idea where these items are will set in a few seconds later and a search team will be deployed to find the missing papers, which have been found in locations and exotic as the fish tank and once, the freezer.
Eventually we do get them out the door and onto a day of higher education and we collapse by the door after they leave, covered in spilled coffee and chocolate milk with nothing but each other to keep us vertical. Mission accomplished!
As part of my “simplify life” motto for the year, I’m looking for ways to ease this process but I haven’t gotten there yet. Tell me about your morning routine…surely I’m not alone here. And if you are actually are that perfectly organized June Cleaver type I strive to be, let me know how you do it…any and all tips to make this routine easier are much appreciated!
This article about making mornings easier is part of the Kraft Bagel-fuls “Break up with your Breakfast Routine” sweepstakes. Visit BlissfullyDomestic.com for all the fabulous details.
A few days ago, The Man and I went to go see Shutter Island. I’d like to tell you it was because I was genuinely interested in the plot but really it was because I read somewhere that one of my fantasy boyfriends on the kitchen pass list, Leonardo DiCaprio was in EVERY SINGLE SCENE. 218 minutes of Leo sounded like bliss to me.
Boy was I wrong. Take it from me, if you must see this movie, make it a Blockbuster night and fortify yourself with copious amounts of wine….you’re gonna need it.
Wait, where was I?
Oh yes, the kitchen pass list. The list that The Man would turn a blind eye on in the unlikely event I was ever to bump into one of these beautiful men, have him fall madly in love with me for no more than a few nights and sweep me off my feet into his private jet to take in the Opera in San Francisco, all the while decorating my neck with Harry Winston jewels and allowing me to shop on his credit card on Rodeo Drive. (You say run on sentence? I say clear and concise summation of entire Pretty Woman plot line. Pfft.)
Anyway. Let’s take it from the bottom up (heh heh) shall we?
Number Five: Bradley Cooper.
Admittedly his stock was much higher right after The Hangover came out but then he started dating Renee Zellweger (Sorry people, I’m just not seeing it…). He remains on the list though because I can totally picture myself riding in a convertible with him, leaning over to slowly pull of his aviator glasses and gazing into his blue eyes as he….. Wait. This is not that kind of blog.
Number Four: Leonardo DeCaprio
Leo used to occupy the number two position but had to be punished for the above referenced 218 minutes of my life that I will never get back. Those blue eyes, that curly hair…I can tell you with absolute certainty I would go down with him. People, I’m talking about on The Titanic. Get your minds out of the gutter. Geez.
Number Three: Robert Pattinson
The only thing keeping this teenage vampire from being number one on my kitchen pass list is the fact that when he is not in “Edward” mode, he really looks like he needs a good scrubbing in the bathtub. Wait….I just had an idea.
Number Two: Hugh Grant
This is a tricky one. Not only because my adorable Scottish friend Ally from The Reluctant Subrubanite is real life friends with him, but also because it’s possible that I might have been “over served” at the Ritz Carlton Reynold’s Plantation outside Atlanta while in a rather small bar area with him. It’s also entirely possible that I might have, maybe loudly , slurred something rather insulting at him. Possibly. Or not. Still, he has great hair and blue eyes and that accent? OH.YES.
Number One: Harry Connick, Jr.
Not only does he have the requisite wavy, thick hair and blue eyes, I already have photographic proof that he is my new boyfriend. I mean sure, I stood there for about one minute but still…Kismet I tell you. Nevermind that security had to drag me off and he is actually married to a Victoria’s Secret supermodel. Details, details. The main thing is that I get to use this picture as many times as possible in my blog. Because I can.
So tell me dear readers, who is on your kitchen pass list? I want juicy details and reminders of anyone I’ve left out.
I’m counting on you for some good comment reading so bring it on!
I travel a lot. You already know this though, right? In fact, this blog post is being written from 32,000 feet in the sky as I sit surrounded by people who have very bothersome coughs.
(Is it too much to ask for you to hack into your sleeve as the CDC has indicated? Pfft.)
Anyway.
I’ve realized over the course of two years, the better part of which were spent up in the air (sadly not with George Clooney) that I have developed a certain level of phobia about my trips. It all started with not wearing my engagement ring when I fly, you know, in case the plane crashes…it would be a shame to waste such a pretty bauble. The one time I did wear it? Emergency landing because of an indication of smoke (read FIRE) in the cargo area complete with military helicopters surrounding us, and a descent from 30,000 feet to the ground in 8 minutes flat where we were greeted by fire trucks, ambulances and scary little men in hazmat suits. I kid you not. Also, most of the senior management of my company at the time was on the plane along with Tommy Lee (the Tommy Lee of Pamela Anderson fame) which apparently is not a good combination for safe travels.
But I digress.
Every since then, I’ve adhered to not wearing my ring but have also added frequently to the things that must happen in order for me to get home safely. In short order, here they are:
• You must never change your seat, even if it’s the middle one on a long flight, for a window or an aisle upgrade. If first class comes along? That’s a different story. God would never ruin my fun in first class with a stupid thing like engine failure.
• The children must each give me one stuffed animal to take along with me for the journey. These sweet little animals would look really bad on a news reel should anything unfortunate happen, also, they make lovely hotel room decorations.
• I must call my husband as soon as I am seated to let him know I was responsible enough to get myself on the plane and not miss boarding by doing something stupid like having one glass of wine too many at the bar one gate down. I mean, not that that has ever happened.
• I must also tell my husband what flight I am on and then give a chipper little shout out of “Track me!” because God would never let something happen to the plane as he sits for hours watching it make it’s way across the map on his tiny computer screen because I’m totally sure that’s what he does for hours while I fly, right honey?
• I will not speak to you unless you look very young or very nervous, or a combination of the two. If you are the latter, I will feel it’s my duty to make sure you don’t get nervous and freak out on me…because if I keep you safe and calm, we can all avoid the hassel of those pesky security guards boarding the plane to take you off and delaying me getting to my destination.
• I rarely use my iPod even though said husband has carefully loaded it with movies I love. Why? Because someone on this plane has to be listening for suspicious knocks or keeping an eye on anyone shady looking, that’s why. I am all about protecting my fellow travelers.
• And here’s the main one. The minute the plane touches down wherever it is I’m going, I have to say to myself “Halfway Home”. I honestly have no idea where this one came from but the one time I said it out loud, the person sitting next to me refused to make eye contact with me as we taxied to the gate. I didn’t blame him.
One of my other rules has always been to not blog about my superstitions about flying on a airplane for fear of creating a “situation” for myself. As I type this, we have just hit a ridiculous amount of turbulence and the captain has ordered everyone back to their seats for the duration of the flight.
