Warning: wordy morning leads to long rambling entry today. Those of you who know me know this mood. Love the sound of my own voice mode. Here goes nothin’ (in multiple parts). I suppose this is what blogs are for, right?

DEAD CAT. My dh has a couple of employees (if you work for the EDD, he has exactly one), and that ONE, who, at the risk of sounding like Walter Matthau, is generally “a pretty good kid,” called this morning to let us know he couldn’t come in today because his girlfriend’s cat died yesterday and she really needs him around today. Ummm, excuse me, but that one’s just not on the list. “I have SARS.” okay. “My girlfriend died yesterday.” okay. Even “I’m experiencing post-traumatic stress over a loss that is affecting my ability to function safely in the workplace.” okay. But six degrees of Kevin Bacon’s dead cat is not okay. Maybe this is payback for the time, way back in the irresponsible dark ages when I was nineteen or so, working at a local amusement park in food prep when I actually had the gall to call in ugly. Yes, you read that right, I called in ugly. I woke up one morning suffering the effects of an allergic reaction to something (or somebody?) and was rash-y and hive-y from hairline to waistline. It was slightly itchy but mostly unsightly. I couldn’t imagine going out into the light of day and serving food to tourists (unappetizing!). My manager understood and made some comment about being beautiful again “by tomorrow.” So, with all due respect to cat lovers and mourners out there, this employee’s gf needs to find another shoulder to cry on post haste, baby.

LIP GLOSS. I have a confession to make. I love lip gloss. I have just rediscovered this after years of poo-pooing the very concept. The last time I wore lip gloss was back in 6th grade and it came in a glass bottle with a rolly ball that could pop out and you could suck on it (eeew). I recently received as a FREE GIFT! (after spending an enormous amount) from Lancome (another story altogether – trying to cover my rosey cheeks) a free tester of their new grown-up lip gloss. It’s fabulous. It’s not slippery. It’s not gooey. It makes me feel like winking at people. Who? Anyone! My free sample is clear, which was a smart way to get me all roped in, since I’m already addicted to chapstick and used to having something on my lips at all times. My 6 year old daughter reacted with “oooh! mommy you look all fashion-y!” This with just clear shiny lips – respect! Forget the perfect grammar and spelling, the backlog of memorized showtunes or perfectly executed single, double and triple tap-dancing time steps. Lip gloss made her LIKE me. Yesterday, cloudy and gray, was threatening to drag me the same direction, and I knew I needed something in the $15.00 range to make me feel good, special, autumn-y. Plum lip gloss. I am not a girly-girl (at least not to the naked eye), so I hauled my cookies, such as they are, in their stinky old-school Chucks and ratty backpack to Macy’s and bought me some gloss. Plum. Like an over-ripe piece of fruit hanging on a tree got all rained on and whispered to you “…come here, when I’m all wet and drippy purple and let me kiss you…now you’re all plummy, too” See how happy it makes me?

COSTCO. I’m going to Costco today for the first time in a year and I’m scared.

Prayer to the Goddess of Costco:

Please let me shop for a family of five
Not for an legion
of hundreds as if
I had
A walk-in
Freezer
or
Even
A
Pantry

so mote it be

Kim

There is a part of me that secretly (or not so) yearns for and envies contentment. I suspect it in others on the playground in the mornings and in coffee shops and “about town” and, maybe I’m just buying into other people’s big charade or falling prey to somebody else’s medicated ennui, but some days it seems so much easier to be just happy with the day-to-day instead of constantly overcoming and dealing with a backburner that is always full and a front burner that is always boiling over. Why do I have to want to do so much?!?! Sometimes it just seems like it would be so much easier to like Survivor or Regis and talk about it at the grocery store to complete strangers (strangers no more!), turn on the radio and hear a song you like (stop trying to write better ones), go to the polls and vote for someone you believe in (as if you believed in any of them), pick up your child from a school you trust, drive around in a big dumb car with bells and whistles you feel no guilt driving, make lots of money doing things you can’t really justify…wait…I think I’ve just discovered why I have a sister. She got all the mind-numbing contentment and I got all the angst. Damn. How did that happen? Can I settle for contentment within my own role? That would be okay, too. I’m content to be less than glamorous. I’m content to be less than rich. I’m content to be an adequate mom instead of Super Mom. Somehow I don’t feel that rosey glow I see on other faces around town. My rosey glow is genetic and is more likely brought on by stress or rage. Am I content to be the malcontent?

To be stupid, selfish, and have good health are three requirements for happiness, though if stupidity is lacking, all is lost.
- Gustave Flaubert

ah, there it is. I feel better already.

Kim

During a Canadian television broadcast Evangelist Jimmy Swaggart said, “I’ve never seen a man in my life I wanted to marry. And I’m gonna be blunt and plain: if one ever looks at me like that, I’m gonna kill him and tell God he died.”

Cautious but brokenhearted gay men across North America are taking him at his word and practicing not “looking at him like that” despite his obvious broad appeal to homosexual males, which apparently prompted this week’s warning.

Carl, 36, of Carlsbad, California, who preferred we not use his last name, spoke frankly about the Reverend Swaggart’s statement.

“I think I can relate. I’m a gay man and I’ve never seen a man in my life I want to marry, either. They look at me like that all the time, too. It just drives me cu-razy!”

Carl’s suggestion if you come across the Reverend any time soon?

“Well, I personally don’t mind a little flirting, but don’t get all serious! We are not the marrying type! And it’s NOT worth getting killed over.”

my flaxseed oil does not seem to be having the health benefits touted by all the experts merely sitting on the top shelf of my refrigerator. apparently i am supposed to be actually ingesting said oil daily, as suggested and planned when purchased. i suppose this can also be said of the untapped jar of whole cranberry juice, the almost-full container of joint mumbo-jumbo and a host of other help-me-now’s. i have the best intentions, and the receipts to prove it. i wonder what scientific breakthrough it would take to have the mere purchase of a product have the actual beneficial properties (to the purchaser, not the company marketing the product who is, in fact, benefitting from my purchasing and re-purchasing the product whether or not i ever use it). when i do take my flaxseed daily, like a good girl, i feel so damned good! so it’s not like i’m not at all certain whether or not it’s working. i’m just…lazy? forgetful? stupid?

i never ever forget to eat an entire tub ful of harmony yogurt covered pretzels. ever.

k

Welcome to my blog, the birth of which flies in the face of all reason. No time, no energy, no vim and/or vigor…hey! let’s start a blog! All the other kids are doing it!

I’m a writer, musician, mother of three, wife (of one), daughter of two. Usually on my way into or out of a mood swing of some sort. Humor: good. Attitude: bad. Wardrobe: comfortable.

I’m so tired and already feeling slightly awkward about this. Then again, if I tell nobody, then I’ve made no mistakes. Blogging. Like logging with a B. I don’t know if I approve of logging…well, not clearcutting. What is the blog version of clearcutting? I need to sleep before I get deeper into this.

k