I Can Count to Six

1 thing I am jealous of:

Friends who are going to Disney World soon. Disney World is my crack. And I nnneeeeeeeeeeed some soon. Sadly, I won’t be getting it. I was hoping for the every other year plan, which started with October 06 and 08. but we have been thinking that even thought October is the bestest time to go (great weather, lower crowds, Halloween party, Food and Wine Festival), it’s getting really hard to take the boy out of school for it. So we will now be going in the hellish, horrible summer, which is more crowed, hotter, and more expensive. And also harder to get mr b convinced it’s time. If I had it my way, if we have to go in summer, we’d go for two weeks instead of one (OK, if I had it my way, we’d go for two months)

2 things I am waiting for:

News that my brand new baby cousin is on the way. My cousin Lala is approximately 37 months pregnant right now and every time the phone rings, I think it’s time. It’s been almost five years since there’s been a new baby in the family and I can not wait to get my hands on the little pumpkin who, despite my constant harassment polite requests, they are not naming Gina. I don’t get it. I think he’d like the name.

Lunchtime

3 things I am looking for:

A suitable replacement for my favorite and long since discontinued eye cream. I am death to products – makeup, hair products, food items – you name it. If I love something, it is almost guaranteed to be discontinued. And if not discontinued, then changed enough that it is not the same thing and may as well be discontinued (I’m looking at you sugared maple lipstick). And I can’t even begin to express my love for the former Mary Kay Triple Action Eye Enhancer. This was the best stuff, ever. I don’t know why they discontinued it, given that I am constantly talking to people who also loved it and lament its disappearance. There are a few tubes online, but considering that it had been years since they took it off the market, I’m not sure how safe, or at least, fresh it would be. But I might be willing to take a chance, since it was awesome. It brightened and sort of lifted the eyelids and made shadows and liners go on smoothly and stay on well. I have tried about a million new brands but never found anything as good. I have no idea what was in the stuff, but between the deep love I had for it and the fact that it is no longer on the market despite sales, I am guessing mercury, BPA, plutonium, and crack.

Dragon’s Song. Years ago, some clients gave mr b a small book that a friend of theirs had had published. It was an epic poem about Pittsburgh called Dragon’s Song. It talked about growing up in the city and how the mills looked like giant dragons. I loved it. And now I can’t find it. Since it was self-published, I can’t find it anywhere –even the Carnegie, and it’s pissing me off. I found an email for the author, but haven’t gotten a reply. On the off chance that any of you have it, let me know – I really want a copy.

Love in all the wrong places (OK, not really, but I needed one more thing here for this to work).

4 things making me happy:

Spending the day at the Carnegie Library with the girl on Saturday. Sure, we have a small library in my hometown, but it doesn’t thrill me the way the Carnegie does. I’m like a kid in a candy store in there. We spent hours reading in the children's section, reading and picking out books to take home with us (of those we took, best title: Skippyjon Jones, best book: The Library Lion, most giggles: The End). Then I did a mad dash & grab in the newer fiction (it really almost doesn’t matter what I grab – I’m happy to read it). I was in such a good mood, I even got a few books for mr b and the boy. Mr b got a couple books on blues music, and I reserved a dvd of Buddy Guy for him. The boy got a huge illustrated encyclopedia of Star Wars vehicles. Which I knew held love. Of course all the book-induced endorphins made me black out the part where he would spent he next three weeks excitedly telling me about each and every vehicle. At length. But still: books! Best part of the day? When I asked the children's librarian where the Cornelia Funke books were located (I need Inkspell now), and she asked me what grade/reading level I was looking for and I had to say, “Um..it’s for me.” Awesome.

The girl now sharing my love for bubble drinks (though not that milky sweet nastiness). Oh, black tapioca pearls, how I love you.

This study is ending today and I can go back to my normal working schedule.

The little wedgie move she does after finishing her “floor routine”:

5 things pissing me off:

Speaking of Cornelia Funke, I was all excited way back when I saw the trailer for Inkheart. And then I ran out and read the book, as I like to do. And when I read it, I discovered that almost nothing in the trailers is actually from the book. No Toto, no flying monkeys, no unicorns. What the fuck?

This bullshit. I can’t even put into words how I feel, other than What. The. Fuck?

The fact that , like every other year, we have been hearing the annual “Oh No, We’re running out of salt for the roads” song of whining, and yet on a 60 degree day, I was behind a truck spreading salt. What the fuck?

As much as I love Spice Island, I really hate those stupid takeout containers they use. The plastic lids get hot, then they pile them on top of each other, and then I end up with shattered plastic in my now inedible Kway Teow. I’m seriously craving it, but won’t bother again until I can eat in. What the fuck, Spice Island?

The fact that I just found out that Kindergarten registration is coming up. When did my baby get so old??? She’s a teeny, tiny baby! And her impending kindergarten is making me yearn for more babies. What the fuck?

6 things the dog has crapped on:

A preface: We got the dog when he was a few months old. We had recently lost our beloved Golden Retriever, and mr b came across an elderly woman who recently lost a dog and replaced him with a brand new, cute as a button black lab. Well, she soon realized that a new puppy was too much for her (and her remaining old dog) to take, so she gave him up for adoption. I wasn’t thrilled when mr b and the boy came home with him (surprise - we got a dog!), but I fell for him quickly. He is a sweet, friendly, loving dog, who is also a fantastic watch dog. And he points at squirrels and chickens. But he’s guilty. He’s guilty for everything he ever did, ever. He sounds like Cujo when someone is approaching, but a quivering, snarling, white hot ball of canine terror, he is not (Family Dog, anyone?) All you have to do is look at him with The Look and the ears go down, the eyelids start fluttering, the tail tucks under and Ferocious Watchdog becomes Sissy Wussy Dog. And what does Dog do when he’s nervous and guilty? He shits. He shits Big.

Twister: The boy had a friend over one weekend. When the friend’s dad came to pick him up, he brought along the friends’ sister and they hung out and played for a while and the adults visited. Pretty soon, the kids start playing Twister. The dog is nervous about games and shits on Twister.

Christmas: It’s Christmas morning. There is much squealing and yelling and wrapping paper being strewn about. Dog is nervous about the excitement and shits on Christmas. The living room is now a minefield as we pick through piles of paper while trying to locate/avoid the pile of shit.

Taxes. A few years back, we (by which I mean mr b) waited until the very last second to do out taxes. While we were dealing with the stress of taxes, I someone spilled beer into the keyboard and it died. So now we had added the added stress of running out to get a new keyboard to finish the taxes. We had papers everywhere, keyboards on the floor, and a general crazy mess. And apparently taxes make the dog nervous. Because he shit on them. And then he sent his post-poo celebration time barfing. Yes, he followed up the shit with a nice big pile of yack on my living room carpet. This is the life.

The driver’s seat. Mr b was picking up the boy from daycare and decided to take the dog along to surprise him. He stops at the ATM machine and gets back in the van. While he is out, Dog, nervous about being alone in the van, ignores the 3000 square feet of floor space in the giant van, and instead somehow balances himself and shits on the driver’s seat. Mr b does not notice as he gets in, and sits on the driver’s seat. Then he smells it. Then cranes his neck, looking all around the van trying to find the source of the smell. Then he realizes he can’t see it anywhere and it becomes clear. Then he contemplates dog murder.

The passenger seat. When I was 9 months pregnant, I was driving Dog to the groomer. This is already a trauma, since Dog is not a Car Dog. He is flailing about, falling down, hitting the dashboard and being a general pain in the ass. In the middle of a call to the office, I got the “who farted?” look. Apparently, Dog is nervous about automobile travel and shits on the passenger seat. Dog is suddenly in the backseat, crying softly. Being in my ninth month of a barfarific pregnancy (seriously, I lost 25+ lbs from the barfing), I contemplate barfing. I decided barfing is a fine idea and do so. While cleaning my car of dog shit and barf, I call mr b and tell him of my dog-murder plans.

On my cousins’ feet. I was 7 months pregnant (and in high-gagging mode). My two cousins came over to visit me one night. They pet and love Dog. When he walks away, all present get the “who farted?” look. Dog, nervous about the stock market, shits on said cousins’ feet. Cousins contemplate murder. I contemplate barfing.

I think this is why Lala refuses to name her baby (boy) Gina.