Saturday, July 24, 2010

Inside My Purse

I am no poet. But every once and I while, for my own pleasure, I like to attempt. I don't ever allow anyone but my children to read them. This one, however, is #1 on a writing site I belong to. So I figured, if everyone else likes it...oh, and it's my son's favorite! Just one more thing: The title is one in which the site provides and the writer simply adds their creativity~

Inside my purse is a scary place
the scariest place I know.
Got things in there that growl and moan
things that have hair that grows. (I know, I've seen it)

Is that makeup I see? Lipstick perhaps?
or something I was planning to eat?
And what's that ticking noise I hear?
My son's wind up toy with feet? (I truly hope so)

Every once and a while I have to go in
searching for a license or floss.
But damned if sometimes I don't pull out
a clump of hair or is it moss? (I just tossed it back)

It's a love/hate relationship I have with my purse
I love to spend money on them.
I love the styles, the way that they look
With the new outfit I bought for the gym. (Hey, a girl should always look good)

The bigger the bag the scarier it gets
with the bottom never to be felt
I just have one thing more to say...
If I'm not out in a minute...send help.

Remote Control(ing)


It's time to come clean. I am a woman who needs to be in control of the remote. There, I said it. It feels good to get that off my chest. I know there are many women who can’t understand the whole “control of the remote” thing. I’m going to blame it on the fact that I was one of six children and my father was a remote hog…oh, wait…we didn’t have remotes back then. Well, maybe it was because I had to get up to change the channel at my parent’s whim and I am still affected. That‘s right, I remember saying to myself, “Never again, never will I subject my children to this when the remote control is invented.”

Please allow me to explain. As any self professed remote hog will tell you -it’s all about channel surfing and evading the commercials. My husband is a terrible channel surfer and he is worse with the Tivo remote. “Honey, when you are fast forwarding through the commercials you have to go just a little bit into the show you are watching because the fast forward button will bounce back a few screens.” “Huh?” He’s all confused. It’s at the point now that when I sit down, he hands the remote control over. I know the men are just cringing.

When we are watching television I can pause just long enough on a show to see if it is something we want to watch. This is very tricky and few have mastered it. There is a fine line between just checking a show and “why are you wasting your time with this”? I can leave a show that we are watching which has gone to a commercial break, flip to another show that might be sort of interesting (you know, Larry King Live or Emeril) and get back to the original show without so much as a missing word. I know…it’s a talent. One my husband has failed at many times. He’ll get sucked into watching an infomercial (on a ladder) if I let him. Or worse, a “Whose the Boss” rerun. It’s much too painful.

Yes, I am a remote hog. And I think I can speak for all remote hogs when I say: We are not hurting anyone. We simply want less commercials and a television that can think like we do. Is that so bad?  Perhaps I should leave out the part where I have called my husband and children into my bedroom to search for the remote. High and low they must look, under and over. No! Don’t change the channel with the button on the television set, goodness, don’t you remember? Never again.

She Makes Me Laugh

I'm talking about Kelly Ripa. I don't often watch this show because I am usually at the gym. However, since it's summer time and the living is easy, I am taking that to heart. The living is really easy when I don't have to work out and rarely cook dinner. Anyway, back to Kelly. I only watch their dialog, the first 15 minutes of the show, but I watch it faithfully each morning wondering how she is going to make me laugh today...and she never disappoints. I want to be your friend, Kelly. I'll even go to the gym with you but I won't stand near you because that would just be cruel (really? have you seen her arms). Then we can go have coffee and share stories about the kids. Then you can invite me and my hubby to the Hamptons for the weekend with you and Mark and we'll have wine and laughter. Eek this is turning out weird...I just wanted to say how much I enjoy that 15 minutes in the morning.

Don't worry, hubby, summer is only so long.

Toe Tap Booty Bounce

Drop Dead Diva is quickly turning out to be my favorite summer tv show. This show really is as delightfully refreshing as (I'm thinking mint julep, but I've never had one) a refreshing new show ought to be. I am not a critic, but in my own way I will try and explain why I love this show!

Brooke Elliott portrays Jane Bingum, the dowdy over weight attorney with not much of a life until a literally life altering accident. After presumable dying from a gun shot wound, Jane's body becomes host to Deb. Deb, the slightly air-headed model (the one who perfected the toe, tap, booty bounce) is killed in a car accident - she's applying nail polish and runs into a grapefruit truck. Sad. But not really.

Deb dies and goes to heaven, which looks like a mall. Maybe that's Deb's heaven. After she meets Fred, he explains that she has never done anything bad or anything good in her life. She doesn't want to hear this and pushes the return button landing perfectly into Jane's lifeless body. Now the fun begins.

Brook Elliott does a fantastic job incorporating Deb's style and panache into her brainiac head. Deb, as Jane, says "I'm smart." and begins to win case after case. And to credit Deb, not all of these wins are because of Jane's aforementioned smarts. You can see Deb's thinking in a lot of what Jane is doing, especially the toe, tap, booty bounce. Love it.

It's a light, fresh, fun little show. Kudos Brooke and the gang!!

The Best Husband In The World

I love Joe. He is the best husband, ever! He listens, he cares, he helps around the house, he drives the girls to work when mom has to be in the office early. He's SO easy on the eyes. He'll sit with you after a very hard day and have beer on the porch and let you just ramble on - while...while...he massages your feet. Joe. Did I mention he's a rocket scientist? So smart. So sexy. Joe. I hope Allison realizes how lucky she is!

Thin Women Can Complain


I'm thin. Not ghostly, bone protruding thin, but for an over forty year old woman I am doing all right, sort of. I work out, eat right, eat wrong, I am raising 4 children (two of whom will be in high school this coming fall), I drink wine. I also complain about my body. I complain about my expanding waist and my sagging boobs. The weight is creeping up and no one likes that I want to complain about it. Yes, you heard right - I'm complaining and I say we thin gals have a right! My friends roll their eyes when I tell them it's hard to find a size 3 (2s can be snug on the old butt and 4s bag on my waist). "Oh such problems," they mutter - not so I can't hear them, mind you. I get it. People want to be thin, but I am watching things happen to my body, too. Why can't I complain about them? I have a belly roll. I don't like my belly roll. Why do you laugh when I show it to you? My butt has gotten bigger, it has! And it depresses me. Do I have to have a butt you could land a plane on for you to acknowledge that my bigger self icks me out like yours does? Let us thin friends into your circle of misery, that's all we ask. I want to be able to say to you "Oh, I shouldn't have that" when we both stare at the double chocolate layer cake and have you tell me "no, you shouldn't". I want you to nod your head in understanding when I complain that I DO need Spanx under that new dress and I want you to mean it!!!