The Way Things Are






Today at lunch, I sent a letter
2005-06-27, 2:56 p.m.

In the words of Texasí Governor Perry, adios mofo.

I SO want to get a bumper sticker that says that.

I realized last night that (1) we are moving in a couple of months, and (2) our house is not really a house but is in fact a carefully concealed quagmire of dusty stacks of paper and useless knick-knacks. So Iím enlisting the aid of the flylady to help me get our shit weeded out, boxed up, and ready to move. Just thinking about this is giving me a bit of a dust-headache, and making me verrrryyyy sleeeepppyyyyyÖ

Could anything be more conducive to a nap than the thought of decluttering the house and boxing up shit? I think not.

Something very sweet indeed is when your child learns for himself a lesson that you tried to get across to him, but he didnít believe you. One of the keys to being a parent of a surly preteen, I believe, is to pick your battles, and on the small stuff, let them learn it for themselves.

Iím talking, of course, about his hair. Apparently, amongst the youngsters, the HOTT deal is for the boys to grow their hair out, and I dunno, look kind of ratty and shifty. So my kid has been eschewing haircuts for several months, and Iíve been allowing his hair to get longer and pokey-outer and pokey-outer. Itís as if his hair is composed of feathers, and he is now wearing an elaborate showgirl headdress. His baby-fine, thin hair stands straight up off his head.

Well, I done tolí him, but did he listen to me? Let me answer that for you Ė no, he did NOT. But last night, he decided that he does want a haircut, and he does want to go back to his short style because itís just not looking very good. Itís actually a rather undignified hairstyle he currently sports. I told him that hair wasnít doing him any favors, and now he believes me.

Another thing. He has a summer reading list, and the book heís reading right now is S.E. Hintonís ďThat Was Then, This Is Now.Ē An awesome book. I read it myself lo these many years ago.

But the kid fights reading. I donít understand it, but he does. However, itís not a choice Ė he HAS to read this book as well as two others. Having made some really good inroads into the book today, he admitted that itís actually a pretty good book. He stressed that if HE says that, it must be a good book. I told him that I didnít want to say ďI told you so,Ē but I was right, wasnít I? He agreed that I win on this one.

In other news, I went to Kohlís for the very first time in my entire life this weekend, and bought 2 old lady swimsuits and one really cute top, which I am wearing right now at work. See it? I love that place and now I just want to go back. OK, theyíre not really old lady swimsuits, but tankinis, because Iím 40-something, and there is NOBODY in this world who needs to, nor ever will, look at my stomach again. I feel so liberated, I skipped my workout this morning, and ate a cheeseburger for lunch. Woohoo! No abs!

And last, pumpkins, I bought Brown Cow unsweetened yogurt (FULL FAT! WOO!), the kind with the cream on top? And I sweetened it with a little Splenda? Yummy! I can still taste it. I guess thereís just nothing like a dairy product with all its fat intact.

Since Iím all dizzy and drowsy and full of dairy fat and suet, and a bit headachey, Iím going to get back to work. Because if Iím going to have a headache, I might as well work, right?

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