doesn’t mean you should.

I know, I know, someone with pink flamingos and garden gnomes in their yard shouldn’t be talking about anyone else’s tacky ass garden ornaments. But there are levels.

My Mother was telling me the other day about my niece’s ass. “Tiene ese fondillo gordissimo!”
I thought maybe she had forgotten about her own rather substantial package her own self, so I reminded her. She just chuckled, like, so what, she can still spot a fat ass and comment on it even if she has one herself.
There are degrees.

Two things that made me wonder today:

1. Finding a fortune cookie fortune floating in Lu’s water bowl that said, Your heart of gold will touch others.
I couldn’t imagine a more fitting sentiment for my little dog.

2. Seeing an old 30’s car ( http://rides.webshots.com/photo/1000313408000196123) with 3 youngish men in newsie caps driving down Main Street. Usually you see an old white guy with lots of money driving this kind of antique car around on Sunday afternoons. This car and it’s passengers wasn’t like that. It made me look down at my own clothes to make sure I hadn’t stepped in to the Twilight Zone.

PS Scottie the peach tree behind Camozzi’s is blooming little pink flowers! And there are buds on the ornamental pear up at Santa Rosa Cemetary.
I miss you baby.

doesn’t mean you should.

I know, I know, someone with pink flamingos and garden gnomes in their yard shouldn’t be talking about anyone else’s tacky ass garden ornaments. But there are levels.

My Mother was telling me the other day about my niece’s ass. “Tiene ese fondillo gordissimo!”
I thought maybe she had forgotten about her own rather substantial package her own self, so I reminded her. She just chuckled, like, so what, she can still spot a fat ass and comment on it even if she has one herself.
There are degrees.

Two things that made me wonder today:

1. Finding a fortune cookie fortune floating in Lu’s water bowl that said, Your heart of gold will touch others.
I couldn’t imagine a more fitting sentiment for my little dog.

2. Seeing an old 30’s car ( http://rides.webshots.com/photo/1000313408000196123) with 3 youngish men in newsie caps driving down Main Street. Usually you see an old white guy with lots of money driving this kind of antique car around on Sunday afternoons. This car and it’s passengers wasn’t like that. It made me look down at my own clothes to make sure I hadn’t stepped in to the Twilight Zone.

PS Scottie the peach tree behind Camozzi’s is blooming little pink flowers! And there are buds on the ornamental pear up at Santa Rosa Cemetary.
I miss you baby.

Last night I dreamt that Scott and I were at the Inn when 8 Hasidic Jews came to check-in. When we opened the door, they were all standing there in their black suits and curly sideburns, smoking cigarettes. I told them there was no smoking on the property and they laughed and blew smoke in my face. I got mad and started yelling at them. They just laughed and danced around, smoking their cigarettes. Then the owner of the Inn came and was annoyed because I had a bottle of vodka on the desk and I was mean to the Hasids.

Last night I dreamt that Scott and I were at the Inn when 8 Hasidic Jews came to check-in. When we opened the door, they were all standing there in their black suits and curly sideburns, smoking cigarettes. I told them there was no smoking on the property and they laughed and blew smoke in my face. I got mad and started yelling at them. They just laughed and danced around, smoking their cigarettes. Then the owner of the Inn came and was annoyed because I had a bottle of vodka on the desk and I was mean to the Hasids.

Last night I dreamt that Scott and I were at the Inn when 8 Hasidic Jews came to check-in. When we opened the door, they were all standing there in their black suits and curly sideburns, smoking cigarettes. I told them there was no smoking on the property and they laughed and blew smoke in my face. I got mad and started yelling at them. They just laughed and danced around, smoking their cigarettes. Then the owner of the Inn came and was annoyed because I had a bottle of vodka on the desk and I was mean to the Hasids.

The girls are plotting again.

Always. My girl has this idea in her head that she can’t possibly tell a grown-up what she’s really thinking. It makes for shadowy intrigue and shifty maneuvering. Kind of exhausting really.
But this is my weekend and it starts with me going to pick up my new sewing machine! and will end with me dropping the little darlings back at their camp. Yay!

How do people do it? How do they live with teenagers and NOT become drug addicts or alcoholics or evangelists? Or shadows? I’m dangerously close. Inches away.

The girls are plotting again.

Always. My girl has this idea in her head that she can’t possibly tell a grown-up what she’s really thinking. It makes for shadowy intrigue and shifty maneuvering. Kind of exhausting really.
But this is my weekend and it starts with me going to pick up my new sewing machine! and will end with me dropping the little darlings back at their camp. Yay!

How do people do it? How do they live with teenagers and NOT become drug addicts or alcoholics or evangelists? Or shadows? I’m dangerously close. Inches away.

The girls are plotting again.

Always. My girl has this idea in her head that she can’t possibly tell a grown-up what she’s really thinking. It makes for shadowy intrigue and shifty maneuvering. Kind of exhausting really.
But this is my weekend and it starts with me going to pick up my new sewing machine! and will end with me dropping the little darlings back at their camp. Yay!

How do people do it? How do they live with teenagers and NOT become drug addicts or alcoholics or evangelists? Or shadows? I’m dangerously close. Inches away.

Specials at the Cambria Cafe. If you dare.

There were many girls in the house last night. They gave each other facials and watched tv all night. There were snoring bodies and dried up clay mask bits every which where this morning. I’m just grateful they stayed in and didn’t sneak out the bedroom window like they did the night before. Is it really only Tuesday?

Specials at the Cambria Cafe. If you dare.

There were many girls in the house last night. They gave each other facials and watched tv all night. There were snoring bodies and dried up clay mask bits every which where this morning. I’m just grateful they stayed in and didn’t sneak out the bedroom window like they did the night before. Is it really only Tuesday?

Specials at the Cambria Cafe. If you dare.

There were many girls in the house last night. They gave each other facials and watched tv all night. There were snoring bodies and dried up clay mask bits every which where this morning. I’m just grateful they stayed in and didn’t sneak out the bedroom window like they did the night before. Is it really only Tuesday?

My daughter is home. She and her friend have been watching some show about beauties and geeks. Deep cleavage and bad hair. Can you imagine?

I drove them to the beach earlier. Gray skies be damned! When the sun finally peeked out, they came home.

Just in time. I was wrestling my old Queen Anne chair in from the studio. My Sweet Dishwasher, he hates that chair but since he’s been gone the house is changing. The sofa moved. It’s floating in the middle of the room at odds with everything else so that my keyboard can rest on my old sewing cabinet and my music can rest on the back of the sofa. I can practice and curse my stupid brain with abandon.

Except for this week. This week my girl is home and I’m trying hard to be a “good” Mom. No practicing while they’re in the house and a trip to the Cookie Crock for friend’s favorite cereal. Cap’n Crunch, like my kid brother!

My girl. She’d just eat potato chips and soda and ask me to buy some ramen when she gets really hungry, ignoring my offer of cauliflower and carmelized onion garbanzo bean crepes. Can you imagine?

They made me dinner tonight. Some very spicy concoction. There was broccoli in it and plenty of Midland stories. I hope they’re writing it all down. You couldn’t possibly make it up.

I’m lost without my dishwasher to back me up and steer this leaky boat. I’m still surprised to find how easily I’m tilted. Though today was the first time I’ve ever stood firm and solid in tree pose. Go figure.

My daughter is home. She and her friend have been watching some show about beauties and geeks. Deep cleavage and bad hair. Can you imagine?

I drove them to the beach earlier. Gray skies be damned! When the sun finally peeked out, they came home.

Just in time. I was wrestling my old Queen Anne chair in from the studio. My Sweet Dishwasher, he hates that chair but since he’s been gone the house is changing. The sofa moved. It’s floating in the middle of the room at odds with everything else so that my keyboard can rest on my old sewing cabinet and my music can rest on the back of the sofa. I can practice and curse my stupid brain with abandon.

Except for this week. This week my girl is home and I’m trying hard to be a “good” Mom. No practicing while they’re in the house and a trip to the Cookie Crock for friend’s favorite cereal. Cap’n Crunch, like my kid brother!

My girl. She’d just eat potato chips and soda and ask me to buy some ramen when she gets really hungry, ignoring my offer of cauliflower and carmelized onion garbanzo bean crepes. Can you imagine?

They made me dinner tonight. Some very spicy concoction. There was broccoli in it and plenty of Midland stories. I hope they’re writing it all down. You couldn’t possibly make it up.

I’m lost without my dishwasher to back me up and steer this leaky boat. I’m still surprised to find how easily I’m tilted. Though today was the first time I’ve ever stood firm and solid in tree pose. Go figure.

My daughter is home. She and her friend have been watching some show about beauties and geeks. Deep cleavage and bad hair. Can you imagine?

I drove them to the beach earlier. Gray skies be damned! When the sun finally peeked out, they came home.

Just in time. I was wrestling my old Queen Anne chair in from the studio. My Sweet Dishwasher, he hates that chair but since he’s been gone the house is changing. The sofa moved. It’s floating in the middle of the room at odds with everything else so that my keyboard can rest on my old sewing cabinet and my music can rest on the back of the sofa. I can practice and curse my stupid brain with abandon.

Except for this week. This week my girl is home and I’m trying hard to be a “good” Mom. No practicing while they’re in the house and a trip to the Cookie Crock for friend’s favorite cereal. Cap’n Crunch, like my kid brother!

My girl. She’d just eat potato chips and soda and ask me to buy some ramen when she gets really hungry, ignoring my offer of cauliflower and carmelized onion garbanzo bean crepes. Can you imagine?

They made me dinner tonight. Some very spicy concoction. There was broccoli in it and plenty of Midland stories. I hope they’re writing it all down. You couldn’t possibly make it up.

I’m lost without my dishwasher to back me up and steer this leaky boat. I’m still surprised to find how easily I’m tilted. Though today was the first time I’ve ever stood firm and solid in tree pose. Go figure.

Whenever we go to Albertsons, Scott stops just inside the front door to dig in his pockets and look through the treasures in the those vending machines. If he doesn’t have any change I dig it out of my purse and leave him to it. The only reason to go to Albertsons is for the Broccoli Rabe, the plantains and those silly vending machines.
I love this about him. These little rituals. Another one is stopping at the bulletin board by the drug store. We can almost never walk by without him having to stop and read what’s up there. I don’t know what the attraction is for that one. I definitely get the love of reading the free ads in the New Times. Those are priceless. Bookshelf $11, you pick up. Broken table, like new $32 obo. His fascination with the ordinary makes me stop and look and wonder. I’d miss so much of this world without him there.

I made a Broccoli Rabe and Vegan Sausage Torte with a butternut squash and feta cheese salad, mashed potatoes and hoppin johns w/collards to bring in the new year.

The bling in the picture is what my delicious dishwasher won out of the Albertson’s machine.