Little No Limit sits at the table. She is cutting paper, a popular activity for her. She moves to brush a strip of paper off the table and inadvertently knocks her pen down to the floor.
“Uh!” She exclaims. Then she looks at her dad with her lips protruded and anxiety inked all over her big brown eyes and says, “Daddy – pick that up.”
“Excuse me,” I said. “That is not how you talk to Daddy.”
She turns her eyes to Husband, lips protruding even more, maybe even a little tremble, and Husband laughs. “Oh, she just wants a little help.”
He walks over, picks up the pen, and hands it to her. I feel like he might have called her Princess too. She snatches the pen back, and without so much as a thank you, continues cutting paper.
I am about to say something, but Husband chuckled at that moment. Chuckled at this… this… behavior, and then looked at me and said, “Who knew when I married one, I’d get two?”
“That was, uh, so not cool.” At which point, I knocked something on the floor, looked at him, and added, “Pick that up.”
Written by Riley on December 19, 2008 in: Musings | Tags: Costco
A couple friend of mine and Husband’s call us from time to time to go shopping at Costco. They don’t have a membership, so they tag along when I go and use my membership. Today is one such day.
Friend and I are putting on a little Christmas shindig and we need some supplies so we thought today would be a good day for Costco. I am waiting for her to arrive at my house, which gives me ample time to consider the last time she and I went to Costco.
It wasn’t “she and I” at all. Her husband came with me.
They were throwing a birthday party but she wound up having to work on the day I was planning to go to Costco. Her husband showed up with a list of everything he was supposed to buy. We arrived at Costco, and I asked if he wanted to walk around together, or separate and meet at the DVDs in half an hour. He opted for separating, so I went about my shopping.
About twenty minutes later, he finds me in the fresh veggies, and is like, “Hey! There you are!”
“Wow,” I said. “Did you already get everything?”
“No.” At which point I noticed his cart was empty.
“Dude, did you get… anything?”
At this point, I realized there was a different look in his eyes than I am accustomed to seeing:
Fear. Confusion. Anxiety.
“Where is everything?” he said. “I just keep walking around! This place is crazy!”
Needless to say, I laughed. A lot. Then I helped him find everything he needed (in seriously, like ten minutes flat, and that includes navigating those random customers who push around the big dolly laden with 500 gazillion cans of soda and one thing of water), and then proceeded to ridicule him the rest of the shopping excursion, complete with mimicking.
On that note, I’m looking forward to today’s venture.
Sorry guys, but unless you want to read about bra shopping, I suggest you go check Sky Mall Madness: Tourney for the Dumbest Item of All Time. I just honestly can’t believe the Solar Powered Bible has gotten as far as it has. It is absolutely no competition whatsoever for the Day Clock.
So back to my bra shopping. Today I drove to Nordstrom to get a bra because I needed a special style to fit under a dress I am wearing to a Christmas party tonight. And whenever I am looking for something particular and time is of the essence, I go to Nordstrom, because their employees never fail in tending to my every need. They also don’t mind that I suffer the problem of offering too much information:
Me: Hi, I need to buy a bra.
Helpful Sales Woman: Are you looking for anything in particular?
Me: Something to go with this dress (pull it out of bag)
Helpful Sales Woman: Okay. (brings me to rack with special style bras). What’s your size?
Me: Well, it used to be 36B, but they seem to have gotten smaller lately.
Helpful Sales Woman: Oh… kay. So do you want to get a 36C?
Me: Oh no, not the bras. My actual breasts. I think they’re smaller. I think it was all that breastfeeding. (pause). Sorry. You probably didn’t need to know that.
Helpful Sales Woman: (laughs) Not a problem. Why don’t we start with the B and go from there.
As it turns out, I have maintained my same bra size and went home with a bra that went well under my dress, even if it is the strangest looking bra I’ve ever seen. It’s called the U Plunge Bra, and looks exactly as it sounds:
I am not lying when I say that I never in my life thought I would wear such a bra. But this bad boy went right under my dress and out of sight, and completely supports me. Much cooler than uncomfortable adhesive cups. And when you put this bra on, you look EXACTLY like the model in the above picture (snort, chortle, snort, snort).
Come along and sing a song and join the jamboree! M-I-C-K-E-Y-M-O-U-S-E.
Mickey Mouse!
Mickey Mouse!
Forever let us hold our banner high!
I’ve talked about my love for Disney before.
They say Disneyworld is the happiest place on earth.
And they say Christmas is the most wonderful time of the year.
So Christmas at Disneyworld would mean you’re spending the most wonderful time of the year at the happiest place on earth, which should result in some sort of double ecstasy, right?
Yes, right.
If I lived in Florida right now, I would totally buy Disney world tickets for Mickey’s A Very Merry Christmas party.
I’ve spent many a day of Christmas fun at Disneyworld. I grew up a couple hours north of it and my family drove down all the time. Those were the days when a road trip was a road trip – no seat belt laws, no in-car DVD players, just me and my brothers and sister left to our own acrobatic devices in a big van while my parents drove. The ride to Disneyworld often involved lots of discussion on which rides we were to definitely get on (Space Mountain, Pirates of the Caribbean, Haunted Mansion, Tea Cups) and which attractions would not be of interest (Hall of Presidents, Dumbo – that line was always too long to make it worth it). In between discussions, I usually got carsick. Then we arrived at Disneyworld and all was better. The ride home often consisted of four passed out children and two tired adults.
Being in California now, I still have close access to a Disney park, but no matter how often I go to Disneyland, Disneyworld will always have a special place in my heart. Disneyworld, where Cinderella’s castle beats out Sleeping Beauty’s and where Space Mountain and Splash Mountain are cooler. Disneyworld, the park I associate with home, with being a child, with growing up. It’s hard to beat nostalgia. Which is why I really wish I could be in Florida right now, to go to Mickey’s A Very Merry Christmas Party.
Throughout December, Mickey and the gang will be celebrating the holidays in the lands of the Magic Kingdom, complete with fireworks, snow, and hot cocoa and cookies for one and all. Mmm… cookies. There is, in true Disney fashion, a Christmas parade, as well as a visit from Old St. Nick, and yes, Cinderella’s castle is decorated with no less than 200,000 lights. Think what you want, but Disney knows how to throw a party. You can even catch a rendition of ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas in Tomorrowland. Does anyone else think that’s ironic? (“night before” vs “tomorrowland”)
So if you like Mickey Mouse and Minnie Mouse and Donald Duck and Goofy and Pluto and all those other guys, buy Disney World Tickets for Mickey’s A Very Merry Christmas Party.
And if anyone wants to buy some tickets for me and family, along with plane tickets, I’d be ever so grateful. (I’m just kidding.)
1. I had dinner last night with some friends of mine I hadn’t seen in a while. Even though the holidays get a little stressful, at least I get to see everyone.
2. I finalized my plans to go to Austin for my friend’s wedding on New Year’s Eve. Get to see all my college pals. Whoo hoo!
3. My daughter, who has been prancing around in her Santa Claus outfit (which I got for $4 at Children’s Orchard):
4. My son drew this fantastic drawing of Wall E and wrote the name out. I love it because he did this without any help from anyone else:
5. Karate class. Oh yeah. Grateful for that one, for sure. But I bet Sensei wasn’t.
First and foremost, let me thank you for watching the movie 27 Dresses with me. I know it wasn’t exactly what you had in mind when you said, “Did we get anything new from Netflix?”
Secondly, thank you for resisting the urge to groan, an urge I’m sure was particularly hard to resist during any of the following moments:
a) The Benny and the Jets sing-a-long at the bar
b) c) The entire bridesmaid dress montage
d) The line, “Get over here.”
e) The line, “I cried like a baby.”
I’m sure you had the urge to groan through pretty much the whole movie except the line “Bridezilla’s on the loose!”, when I distinctly heard you laugh. I know this movie was a more painful experience for you than 13 Going on 30 or even How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days. In the future, I’ll make sure to no longer subject you to movies with a number in the title, unless that number is II, III, IV, V, VI or 300.
Lastly, I feel obligated to tell you something:
When you asked me what we had received from Netflix, I neglected to inform you that in addition to receiving 27 Dresses, we had also received Iron Man. I’m not proud of what I did, but I knew what your answer would be if I gave you both choices.
To make up for it, I hereby suggest a compromise.
I will watch any of the following movies with you:
a) Any Rambo film
b) Any western starring Clint Eastwood, even High Plains Drifter
c) Any film starring Jean Claude Van Damme
Last night, I saw a band called The In Between perform on the Duke Fightmaster Show. They did a really good interview and their music makes me think of Led Zeppelin.
They’re playing at OC Tavern tonight and The Coach House (at a benefit for Friendship House) tomorrow night. If you’re in the area, you should check them out.
The last time I went to OC Tavern, my friends and I decided to play pool. We enter the pool room, where one table is being used by twelve-year-olds (OC Tavern offers family dining) and the other table by adults. My friend goes and puts our quarters on the twelve-year-olds’ table and when he comes back to me, I say, “What are you doing? Why don’t you put the quarters on the other table?” and he looks at me like I’m the idiot and says, “Because we’ll totally beat those kids.” Rather than accept our challenge, the kids just left the table when their game was up. And now you know: I bully kids out of their pool table.
So if you see me at the show, feel free to buy me a drink. And, I don’t know, maybe later, we can go play some pool.
Dinner last night with the in-laws involved my usual Thanksgiving Day routine: wine, food, sleep. While I often go to the movies on Thanksgiving, I passed on it in favor of that comfy couch and throw pillow, and my SILs saw Four Christmases without me while my children went night swimming with their cousins without me (have I mentioned before that I love California weather?).
In light of my dog’s health issues, I didn’t want to leave the Notorious F.O.X. at home for the day, so she joined us for Thanksgiving and managed to uproot one of Mother in Law’s rosebushes while there. Thanks, dog. Thanks for that.
That rosebush had it coming!
Thanksgiving feast consisted of turkey for the meat eaters and Tofurkey for the veggies. I made a gluten, soy, dairy, and egg-free pumpkin pie and cornbread for The Boy to eat with his turkey and Mother in Law surprised me with this Thanksgiving present:
I’m all shook up.
While some of you might think this is a bottle of wine, all you have to do is turn it on its side to realize it is, in fact, a gun:
Just imagine how I acted AFTER drinking the wine…
Happy post T-day, y’all. Hope your days were equally eventful.
The morning shower left droplets on the red and brown leaves and recently mowed grass. There is a light fog, probably leftover marine layer and the sun has finally come out. The whole park screams “Yes, I am that beautiful.”
We spend some time walking about the park and the kids sing “It’s November” to the tune of “Where is Thumbkin?”, something they learned at school and can’t get enough of (they’re fans of Albuquerque the Turkey as well, but haven’t memorized the lyrics). The Boy and Little No Limit scurry about to the tune of their song, their footsteps swishing and squishing their way through wet grass. They pick up fallen leaves. Leaf after leaf goes securely into their plastic bag for them to bring home and examine one by one for nuances in color, the random caterpillar, and full vs. broken.
The dogs are happy to be out on a walk, sniffing for all the latest and greatest pee-mail and leaving their appropriate responses. Another dog goes by in a car, a toy pinscher, wearing a sweater, barking at us.
Don’t even try, little dog in human clothes, you will not win.
Little No Limit is wearing jeans with large wet circles on both her knees from kneeling in the wet grass. She jumped in a puddle. I know her socks are soaked. I hope she doesn’t catch a cold. I worry if The Boy should even pick up leaves because the other day when he did that at a different park, his eye swelled up and his elbows and knees turned red and the doctor said he probably touched/rubbed against some plant.
I was talking about that incident this morning on the phone with my sister in law. “It’s so hard,” she said, while talking about how to protect our children. “What are we supposed to do, put them in a bubble?”
Honestly, there are moments. Moments when I think, man, I wish I could just do that. Hide them away in a bubble or a sanctuary like the guy in Once Upon a Day. But then I remind myself that that’s crazy talk. That I can’t lock them away. That that doesn’t protect them or help them. That I can’t stop everything, or perhaps anything, from happening to them.
I read a quote recently, attributed to Corrie Ten Boom: “Worry does not empty tomorrow of its sorrow. It empties today of its strength.”
I am a worrier. There is no way around it. I worry about everything I do, everything I don’t do. I can’t stop myself. I do at least restrain myself, though, and force myself to not let my worrying stop the kids from being kids.
And so I watch my daughter get her shoes and pants wet and I watch my son play with the leaves. And the only thing that happens are smiles. Smiles and red, exuberant cheeks, and giggles, and more of “It’s November.” And I am thankful.
