April 18, 2008

• Bacon Bits

  Last night I dreamt I was shopping for bacon.  The thickest, leanest, pinkest, prettiest bacon I'd ever seen.  Just dreaming about it made my tastebuds sit up and beg.  I knew - just knew - looking at it that it would cook up to that perfect crisp tender state that makes a mouth want to cry with pleasure. 

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  Tucker had a rough week at school, punctuated by some spectacular high notes.  He came home on Wednesday and said that he wanted to write a report just for fun.  He got on the laptop and googled - my BABY was GOOGLING!  I'm so proud.  So anyway, he googled e-coli and wrote a report.  Yes, it included the list of symptoms he mysteriously experiences whenever he doesn't want to do something. 

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  Michael had a field trip today to the Rio Grande.  I asked him about it. 

  He said, "I was hot.  I was sweating.  I think I was even stinking."

  I said, "But did you learn anything?"

  He said, "Yeah, when you go to see the Rio Grande you get hot, you sweat, and you stink."

  

  "Oh, yeah, and we were supposed to look at water creatures that you had to have a microscope to see.  Mine was a water boatman.  One of my classmates had an angel shrimp and that was silly because you could clearly see that without any kind of instrument.  You know, I really shouldn't be expected to remember everything.  I was hot and sweating at the time."

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  It was warm today.  Not yesterday.  Yesterday it was so cold I was glad I hadn't shaved my legs. 

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  Living with my phone has become an exercise in tolerance.  It calls random people in my address book with no provocation.  It's just lying on my desk and will suddenly light up and start dialing.  It refuses to show my text messages except when it's in the mood.  When I start to reply to a text message, it will decide that I'm done and "send" halfway through what I meant to say.  The only time it works properly is when I have three people all calling with stressful news at the same time, I can toggle back and forth with no problem whatsoever.  I'd trade it in but I think this experience is good practice for being all Zen like and composed in the face of the teenaged years.  So far, it's looking like a better option would be to anesthetize me with lots of chocolate and whiskey.

  **********

  Tis the season for sandals and so far, my pedicure is pitiful.  There are rules about these things, you know?

  So my sisters, PLEASE, raise your big toes and repeat after me ...   
    
    
  The Open Toed Shoe Pledge
   As a member of the Cute Girl Sisterhood, I pledge to follow the Rules when wearing sandals and other open-toe shoes: 
   
  I promise to always wear sandals that fit. My toes will not hang over and touch the ground, nor will my heels spill over the backs. And the sides and tops of my feet will not pudge out between the straps. 
   
  I will go polish-free or vow to keep the polish fresh, intact and chip-free.  I will not cheat and just touch up my big toe. 
   
  I will shave the hairs off my big toe. 
   
  I won't wear pantyhose even if my misinformed girlfriend, coworker, mother, sister tells me the toe seam really will stay under my toes if I tuck it there. 
   
  I will not live in corn denial; rather I will lean on my good friend Dr. Scholl's if my feet need him. 
   
  I will take my toe ring off toward the end of the day if my toes swell and begin to look like Vienna sausages. 
   
  I will be brutally honest with my girlfriend/sister/coworker when she asks me if her feet are too ugly to wear sandals. Someone has to tell her that her toes are as long as my fingers and no sandal makes creepy feet look good. 
   
  I will promise to go to my local nail salon at least once per season and have a real pedicure (they are about $15 or 20 and worth EVERY penny). 
  
  I will promise to throw away any white/off-white sandals that show signs of wear... nothing is tackier than dirty white sandals. 
  

   

  • 10:40 pm
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