Gorillabuns

sanity

Well, I survived Vacation Bible School. Funny enough, the kids did too. Minus my one mini-meltdown due to a massive peeing incident on the last day, all in all, I would consider the week a success (no one died).  In the end, I think Mason ended up having sort of a crush on me. I guess secretly, he likes to be called out and disciplined every 30 minutes by an uptight older lady. I can only imagine his future mate - uptight and dominating. He'll fight it and love it all at the same time.

This week we are doing a whole bunch of nothing. A few play dates will be had while I secretly wish small voodoo curses on those who happen to be lucky enough to go on a vacation.  without their children. Man, I haven't a clue what that would be like - a vacation or being without my children.  A double whammy for a vacation without children. I might even return as a nice person if such a thing occurred.

Alas, I'm stuck with no vacation, too much time with the kids and no alcohol.  My sanity?  It pretty much left in the middle of the night without a forwarding address.

don't tell me i'm the only one who saves these

What exactly is the statute of limitations in saving these little gems of condiment love?

your my obsession

Last Friday at "MUFFS Mom's for Muffins," I noticed several children with bright and shiny faces while sitting in our mandatory circle time. By bright and shiny, their faces looked like they had been bitch-slapped by their mothers prior to entering the building. I ignored their faces and chalked up their rosy appearances to possible sun exposure. The weather HAD been 85 degrees the day prior. No big deal. 

Fast-forward onto Monday. Celia and I pranced, like glittery show-horses, into her classroom only to find out, the two kids with day-glo faces? Diagnosed with fifths disease. AWESOME!!!

Today, Celia woke up with a red mask around her eyes and is starting to exhibit some major chin business.  This would be what I have described above - the bitch-slapped/rash display.

Me? I've been looking in the mirror every 30 minutes to see if I contracted the disease. This rash certainly wouldn't do much for newly masked face. and my confidence.

**Band-aids for Moira's poor mangled finger.**

Dirty, filthy kids.

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Rich is turning 40 on the 19th. I'm planning a party for him without much of a plan at all. Any suggestions? (Just please don't suggest black balloons, tombstones and pink flamingos staked in our yard. I hate to be TOTALLY unoriginal.)

I could put on a disaster party - since he's turning 40 and he was born on one of the most "disastrous" days ever. But, this would be so gauche.

I could throw an 80's party but I had one for my 35th.

**Note to self: Never let a drunk person handle a camera and yes, I still own this blouse and earrings.**

Or, I could go for the straight-forward approach.  Celebrate having him in my life during our 'golden years and being my babies daddy. 

Nah, that's way too sentimental. Even for me.

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I have a feeling my children are trying to kill me (softly and slowly).

**Lipstick. YEA!!! FUN!!!! WOO-HOO!!! Let's not tell Mom about the lipstick on the wall in the hallway. Let her figure this one out for herself. Some other kid did it.**

Their evil plan is working.

liar, liar, pants on fire

I don't know if you know this but we are in a recession. Okay, I know what you are thinking - shut-up! How much longer can I go on and on and on and on about this tedious subject? Oh, like - FOREVER!

How does the economy really affect me, you ask? Well, we are heavily involved in the real estate market here in the big/small town of OKC and NO, we don't "Flip this House." Today, Rich heard the all-time high of excuses to "MAKE" the deal work. "Our client has bone cancer and this is her dream home. Come on, can't you find an extra $5,000 in equity?" Really? How sad. Yea. No can do. If in fact she has Cancer, well that's really horrible but come on. What does this have to do with putting your ass on the line to make a bogus deal work?

Yes, the once bleeding hearts have now hardened. HARD. Because of bullshit statements like this. All I know is, if I was afflicted with bone cancer, the last thing I would ever be doing is purchasing a house with a pool, thus depleting my life insurance policy.

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Rant #2: Pray do tell, what is the cut-off for women of age to quit wearing their children's belly bearing size 5T t-shirt with jeans? The jeans being low-riders, or whatever the catch phrase is about these non-bootylicious jeans. I don't care if you are a negative 20, your ass still looks big and your concave gut tends to look plump and full.  Like you just gave birth.

I'm sure it's just me but I just don't get it... and maybe, just maybe, I'm a little jealous. No, really I think you look stupid.

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Rant # Trois: Would the power's that be (you know, Big Brother) make a deliciously low-fat and healthy alternative to the Jalapeno potato chip? Because if there was one in existence, I would totally devour the whole bag right now. My homemade Talepia fish tacos left me slightly unsatisfied tonight. As many things in my life right now.

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Rant # Vier: It was a sunny and balmy 80 degrees today. Even though my pedicure is much to be desired, I broke out the flip flops. While wearing these quick and easy decisions, I remind myself each and every year around this time , how long will it take my poor feet to adjust to the pain and suffering of the flip or flop in this case? Is it five or ten wearings?

I guess I will soldier on because I love my extensive collection of these beauties.

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Rant # Cinco: Celia has a "Mom's for Muffins" gathering at school tomorrow (I so could make a dirty joke out of this title. Don't tempt me) . Today I was warned with all the being my almost Five year old could muster, "Mom, please wear make-up tomorrow and a pretty outfit. You will look so pretty.PLEASE do this for me." What? You don't like my chap-stick, sweatpants wearing existence?

I told her to not worry. I will be sure to not embarrass her and will don on my best white and frilly Prince shirt for her showing.  I might even throw on a little mascara to make a better impression. ONLY for her would I go to such extreme lengths and yes, I DO have a frilly Prince-like shirt I will be wearing for this extravaganza.

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A not-so-rant: Rich and I have a date this coming Saturday night. The first since December 2, 2007. Aptly titled, "The Quarterly Love-fest."

Let's all bow our heads in silence we don't a) become bored and complete each other's awkward silences, b) talk about our children - AT ALL!, c) come home early or d) end the evening in a drunken spat where someone ends up sleeping on the couch.

Not that any of these multiple choices have EVER occurred. Oh, come-on! Don't act like NONE of these have ever happened to you!

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Now, I leave you with a piece of me, from a Bachelorette party, Circa 2006.   

I do believe this is one of the finer pictures ever taken of me. Never mind I should have had my tonsils extracted at an early age and the photographer should have died a very slow and painful death after snapping this shot WITH MY OWN G*D* CAMERA!

six words

Last Friday, Rich and I went to a party where a gaggle of Twenty-something Architects were in attendance. Twenty-somethings with a slew of awesome shoes and trendy clothes. I felt slightly shlumpy while envying their coveted wedge shoes and carefree attitudes about their seemingly stress-free lives. Out of the fifty kids, not one cool kid had children. No one had to worry about procuring babysitting for the evening or worry their impending birthday is making them feel old as dirt on the not-so distant horizon. Their worries seemingly consisted of, their next dry Martini and scoring a hit off the community joint. Ah, youth. It's so wasted on the...... well, you know the adage.

During one of the many "interesting" conversations of the evening, someone whipped out a newspaper, celebrating one of the attendee's most recent promotion. A bystander quipped, "who reads the business section of the newspaper? Actually, who reads the daily newspaper at all?" I responded, "I do. I like to read the obits. I read them pretty faithfully," in my best craggy, Seventy-Four, Floridian, retiree voice.

The response? "Oh, Mrs. Gorillabuns! You are so funny!"

Not really.

I just so happen to ONLY read the obituary section of the paper. This strange obsession consumes a small part of my week. The part of my week, where i drag a newspaper from the throng of faded cast offs - who lie in wait; hoping to be rescued from the elements of nature and feral animal territorial markings.

Reading the laundry list of accomplishments of the freshly expired, fascinate me. I often wonder if the printed words, noted for detached public consumption, are the words they would have chosen had they written their own synopsis of a life lived and sometimes, revered. After reading most recounts,  I feel the blurry sketch of a person has been described in a very bland and common manner; hardly noting the true personality of the soul or even what they died from in the first place . I want to know more and am quite often disappointed when the standard, "he/she was suddenly taken away from us - without warning" is  haphazardly stated. I often feel cheated out of a good story and think everyone should be asked to write their own obit before they die; as to spice up their life in a manner worth remembering. A life not so easily dismissed and forgotten at least for just one, singular moment in time.

This evening, Rich and I discussed the way in which people are remembered and recounted. How every obit lists boring facts that may or may not have been the sum of a whole. Kinda like a resume for life - not all the information detailed is 100% accurate. He brought up a session he heard on NPR about an article written in Smith Magazine, where famous people and the not-so much, summed up their lives in one short sentence - six words or less. It was amazing how impactive six succinct words - simply stated; can describe so much of the person being celebrated and remembered.

"Revenge is living well, without you." Joyce Carol Oates

After reading quite a few summaries, I wonder what I would write in six complete words. Something happy? Morose? Funny? True?

"Always waiting for the Big One."

or

"Lived, laughed, loved - and very unorganized."

"No more, "In a minute," left."

or

"Often happy, but was never satisfied."

Damn! I could go on and on and on......

What would yours be?