20 Feb 2012

Gut Reactions.

Written by sally @ 10:08 am — Section: sally

While many children his age have dropped their afternoon naps, Spike still needs his. We all need his naps. The crying and gnashing of teeth that accompany bedtime are multiplied by one million percent without a nap. However, convincing him to be quiet and still for a moment is rough, and so our new routine is that he naps in the stroller. We walk despite the weather. I have bundled him up when it is cold and carried an umbrella when it is raining. The nap is that important. There is a specific route that we take and, like clockwork, he is passed out cold by the time we get to Gillespie Street (The Quietest Street in Belhavenā„¢). On the way to sleep mecca, we pass some beautiful houses whose owners subscribe to the New York Times but sadly, do not pick up their papers. I run over them with my giant stroller and try to decide what time of day it is appropriate to assume that stealing the papers is morally ok.

A few weeks ago we were trudging along Pinehurst and came upon some ladies leaving a lady lunch party. They were standing in the yard air kissing goodbye, and they were all dressed to the nines. (I was dressed to the twos.) There were more platform shoes and gold lame than I’m accustomed to during daylight hours. My first reaction, which I’ve been puzzling over ever since, was to think to myself, “Bitches.” Was it their clothes? Their air kissing? Their general air of fakery and awfulness that makes me feel certain that they were cheerleaders or, at the very least, on drill team? Why do I still think of people in those terms? Then I was relieved that no one I know dresses or acts like that, and then I ran over their neighbors’ New York Times and forgot about it until the next time we passed their house.

Saturday night I was driving home from babysitting for a friend (wait, I get to sit by myself and read a book while your baby sleeps? seriously? sign me up!) and listening to the radio. The dj said, “Carol, Rhonda, and Marlene just called in — they’re having some drinks at the house and wanted to hear their all-time favorite. Ladies, this is for you!” And then “Rhiannon” came on. Somehow, the image of these three middle-aged friends drinking Coors Light out of cans and calling up a dj just depressed me completely. It’s your all-time favorite? Do you not…have it on CD? Cassette tape? Could you…watch a YouTube video? Between the three of you, could you scrape up $.99 to buy it on iTunes? I could see their living room perfectly. There’s a sliding glass door with vertical blinds that leads out to the patio. The couch has that western/prairie/floral print. There’s a set of glass nesting tables with gold accents, a grapevine wreath with wooden ducks and baby’s breath affixed to it hanging on the wall, and no one’s using a coaster.

Should I be concerned that my first reaction to gold lame is “what a herd of bitches” and that a simple request for a Fleetwood Mac song conjures up the set of “Roseanne”?

12 Feb 2012

Whut.

Written by sally @ 3:01 pm — Section: sally

I forgot to mention in my last post that on Friday, while talking to a coworker, a little voice that had a robotic, dwarf-like quality to it interrupted our conversation and said, “Whut.”

Even as I looked around for the robot dwarf, I realized what it was.

“Was that your phone?” coworker asked.

“Oh god,” I said. “That was my stomach.”

Y’all, my stomach said a word! I couldn’t be prouder/crack up more every time I think about it. “Whut.” I’ll tell you “whut,” stomach! You’re clearly a genius. All of those Cokes and Cheez-its have made you something of a savant. I won’t say I’m not concerned about the robot dwarf thing, but I can get over it.

Welp, gotta go; I’m reading my stomach the entirety of the Riverside Shakespeare in an attempt to expand its vocabulary.

10 Feb 2012

Archie Butt.

Written by sally @ 3:51 pm — Section: sally

1. It’s cool if I lazily rely on a list to write blog posts, right?
2. You’ll be happy to know I received my wedding invite a few days after I wrote that last post.
3. CLIFFHANGER, I KNOW
4. And I finished The Night Circus! It was delightful. I liked it a lot. Something prevents me from loving it, but I’m not sure what.
5. Yesterday I saw a book on the shelf by someone named Archie Butt. Butt! One butt. I’ve already laughed my way through Butts as a last name; I’ve just never seen the singular form. Old Archie Butt! What a chap!


6. If you’re thinking “hey those are cute tights” about the tights-clad leg in the background, don’t be. While they look normal, they have a major problem: they’re the type of tights that have a definite front and back — the feet have a toe and heel, unlike some tights that just go straight down — and the crotch is sewn in wrong. The crotch is in the back. All day yesterday I had a crotch on my butt.
7. Butt!
8. Internet, I’ve told you, I’m sure, about my fascination with the word “butt” and how at the tender age of four, I would draw pictures of butts and hide them behind the couch in the formal living room because I thought if I put them in the trash my mom would find them? Just checking.
9. In case you’re wondering: draw a circle. Now draw a vertical line through it. That was my version of a butt.
10. Also that is my tattoo.

1 Feb 2012

Dear Emily Post: I Am Fretting.

Written by sally @ 8:18 am — Section: sally

Receiving a save the date card is a guaranteed “you’re invited to the wedding,” correct? I generally do not fret about such things, except:

1. A friend and I both received save the date cards some months ago.
2. On Monday, we IMed about the wedding because she had just received the wedding invitation.
3. Excited, I went ahead and bought a gift off of the couple’s registry.
4. (Four mugs and a vase…except a day later Crate and Barrel was all “oops sorry the vase is sold out” so now my gift looks exceptionally crappy.)
5. In the note that will accompany the now-crappy gift, I wrote something about being excited to see them in May.
6. This is great except I haven’t received my invitation yet.
7. While not being invited would not prevent me from sending a gift, it might’ve prevented me from writing “HAY CAN’T WAIT TO COME TO YOUR WEDDING AND ALL” on the note.
8. Now that I wrote this, I will probably get my invite today.
9. But! What if I DON’T get one, and then, after my gift is delivered, they go “oh shit” and then send me a second tier invite out of guilt?
10. What iffffff