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Monthly Archives: May 2011

The birds and the butterflies

So my son from another mother and I were playing in the castle.  After a brief refresher on how to wake up slumbering princesses, I thanked my lovely (if somewhat rough) Prince Charming.  Here’s a recap of a conversation:

Me: Thank you for waking me up, Prince Charming!

Eric: I’m not a prince, I’m Eric!

Me: You’re not a prince?

E: No.  Mommy is a prince.

Me: No, sweetie, Mommy is a girl so she’s a princess.  Boys are princes, girls are princesses.

E: Are you a princess?

Me: Yes! Who else is a princess?

E: Mommy.

Me: Yes, Mommy is a princess!  What about Daddy? Is Daddy a princess?

E: No, Daddy is a boy.

Me: So that makes Daddy. . .

E: (in a very solemn voice) hmmmm. . .a butterfly?

Me: bahahahahahahahaha!  Good job, kiddo!


I Love Lucy. . . van Pelt

Hi.  That was me, just up there.

Also, I think I see a little bit of me in the dad below:

Make up ridiculous stories and tell them confidently.  That’s my motto!

So I got a little distracted

I was supposed to be looking for a picture that describes my life.  Somehow I found this:

Which made me laugh.  Who doesn’t need to know how to draw a camel in 3 easy steps?

And then I found this:

I think this is from some movie about a mouse that I never saw, but I love the song “Somewhere out there” from said movies, and I feel like it sums up my life, because right now I feel like I’m just waiting for things to happen (in many areas of life).

Then I decided this about sums my life up:  just me dancing around.  Of course, the music is all in my head.

Watch out for those feet–they’ve got some crazy moves!

Even the most minor celebrations call for some bubbly.

The really big ones call for fancy bubbly at fancy restaurants.

So for sister-girl’s graduation, we went to a fancy restaurant (where she works most other days) and partied like it was going out of style.  Mostly by gorging ourselves on delicious food and guzzling the complimentary sparkling wine, which was accompanied by a hand-written history of the vintage & vineyard.  Because stuff like that happens when they like you at work and you get fancy degrees.

Don’t mind my funny expression–the waiter taking our picture said to say something funny, and I was just yelling our last name.

Give me some music!

Name that play.

Also, allow me to give you a picture of me listening to music.  You’re going to have to trust me that I am in fact listening to music in this picture.  But let me explain how I know that’s what you’re seeing.

1.  I was there.  I know.

2. It’s a picture from Festivus.  In the basement.  Which is where the band always plays.

3.  It is before the gag-gifting.  I know this because Craig isn’t holding an offensive book or toy.  So music it must be.

If I was Mary Alice, I would run away, too

So yesterday I was at the mall.  Because, ya know, I work there.  And this lady comes into the store.  Suzie greeted her.  Blah blah retail blah.  I dust.  The next thing ya know, crazy momma is all, “Have you seen my daughter?”

Um, no.  You have a daughter?

Crazy momma: Did she come into the store with me?

Suzie: Yeah, but I think she went back out.

*In my head: Shouldn’t you know that?*

CM:  Oh my goodness!  Mary Alice!

Suzie and I look at each other.

CM: (now in mall hallway) MARY ALICE!  Have you seen my daughter? MARY ALICE!!

Customers in surrounding stores stand in doorways and stare.

CM: Have you seen my daughter?  She has brown hair, and a feathery black bow in her hair and red hoop earrings. . .she’s 13.  Jesus, Mary and Joseph, HELP ME! MAARYYY ALIIICE!

*In everyones’ heads: She’s THIRTEEN? And you’re freaking out THIS much?*

Boss-lady: Is there something wrong with her kid?


Some kind sucker sits crazy momma on the bench and tries to calm her down.  The result:


Right about now, I decide to call the customer service desk to ask for a security guard.  Conveniently enough, one just cruised up on his segway.  Yes, the mall cops drive segways.  I like to think of them as glorified tricycles.  I raced one today (in my head, again), but the poor sucker lost.  And I’m short.

But I digress.


At this point, I’m pretty sure Mary Alice is cowering behind a potted plant somewhere, because she’s 13 and her mother is having a mental breakdown in the middle of the mall.  If I was Mary Alice, I would never come home again.

But apparently Mary Alice is not as easily embarrassed as your average 13-year-old, or is easily intimidated by mall-cops, and returned soon after Bobby the tricycle cop arrived.

And life at the suburban shopping mecca continued as before.

Never trust free online tests.

The aptitude test I just took told me I am an accountant.  Apparently I “think in numbers” and focus on “precision and accuracy.”

What a load of crap.