So Far, So Good

I am pleased to report that we have reached the first weekend of our summer break.

Meredith has read over 500 pages this week, and has decided to devote her summer to reading the Mark Twain 2012-2013 Final Nominees.

Best Summer Ever

Harper has been focusing her energy on the Newsboys Strike of 1899. We’ve heard a rumor that William Randolph Hearst is a distant relative, and Harper is all fired up. (Like me, she now has the entire Newsies soundtrack memorized. This makes our car rides 94% more entertaining.)

Last week I won a bottle of barbecue sauce from the produce co-op. This morning I won some tea from Teavana. I made some vegan cookies, I’ve been to Gokul twice in the past week, and my basil is ready to be cut and placed upon a plate with mozzarella and tomatoes. (I measure my successes culinarily.)

I’m currently reading Ten Thousand Saints.

A pair of green tights arrived in the mail this afternoon.

My Acer Cardigan has reached the halfway point.

Functional Mustard

I do believe I have another stress fracture in my leg. (I’ve been walking in the mornings.) BUT, let’s not talk about that. (I’m registered for a 5K in August. Sink or swim.) ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

She’s Come Undone

Today is the last day of school. I’ve always preferred the first day of school to the last day. Something about the smell of pencils and the feeling of potential jazzes me much more than the smell of sweat and the possibility of chaos.

This morning, instead of going through the circle drive to drop off the girls, I parked my car and walked them in. (I had a hat to deliver to one of the teachers. A baby hat. A baby newsie hat. A gray baby newsie hat. Details. (Does anyone ever say “the devil is in the details”, or has it gone the way of 23 Skidoo? Let’s bring back 23 Skidoo!))

Anyway, I delivered the hat and then I walked down to Meredith’s classroom, and the entire time I was walking I was also stopping to talk to teachers and I’ve never really socialized in the halls before, so I was feeling all Welcome Back Kotter with a hint of Mary Tyler Moore and I was wearing a dress that’s slightly too tight on top (foreshadowing!) and I talked to Meredith’s teacher for a bit and then I walked down the hall again and spoke to a few reading teachers as well as the ELL teacher and then I stopped off in the office and spoke to the school secretary and she complimented the dress so I did what I do and went into the whole story of how I GOT the dress (I’m exhausting.) and then I signed out and exited the building and walked to my car.

And as I was walking, I felt a breeze.

A bosom breeze.

And I looked down and saw that my dress was unbuttoned down to my waist.

In other words, the first time I toyed with social butterflyism, I did so while J-Lo-ing to the professionals who are educating my children.

Undone

It’s good that today is the last day.

I now have three months to recover. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

There’s a hole in my sniffer!

So, I talked about it back in January.

AND, I talked about it again in April.

Today I had a root beer and pickle chip lunch with a friend. One thing led to another and suddenly I found myself sitting on a table in a tattoo and piercing shop.

Well, hello there.

Sometimes you just have to stop talking long enough for a professional to shove a rod through your nose.
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42 Spanking Heads Baked in a Pie

As you know, I turned 42 over the weekend. 42 has always been one of my very favorite numbers, so I have it in my head that it’s only a matter of minutes before my bucket starts filling up with more glitter, peach pie, and fancy (yet sensible) shoes.

My life took a bit of a turn on Friday evening when my family gifted me with my very first smart phone. (I always upgrade my phone with whatever is free at Best Buy. As a result, my phones are always a bit simple-minded with a distinct lack of whistles and flares, and I’m okay with that. As long as I can call out when I need to call out, I’m good. Why have a zipper when hooks and eyes work just as well?!)

Anyway. (Cue the harpsichords and Baptist choirs!) I now own an iPhone. And it’s the kind that talks to you and helps you determine how many days are left until Christmas and how many  miles you live from Jackson Hole and how to make hummus out of sweet potatoes. My only complaint is that I can’t quite figure out how to make it compliment and reassure me randomly throughout the day. (“You look especially fetching today, Angie Spanking Head.” “Your anger is justified, Angie Spanking Head.” “You don’t have to take this bullshit, Angie Spanking Head.” “If I wasn’t such a phone, I would invite you to a make-out party, Angie Spanking Head.”)

(My phone calls me Angie Spanking Head because Jon Scieszka and Lane Smith signed my copy of Squids Will Be Squids with an Angie Spanking Head shout-out from Aesop. This is one of Harper’s most favorite things EVER, so we decided to Make It Happen iPhonetically.)

1998-2011

This weekend was particularly good. It found us eating burritos and nachos and pie and making vegan chocolate chip cookies and taking naps and listening to episodes of Roderick on the Line, which is my new favorite non-knitting podcast.

The final day of school is one week from today. The idea of summer normally stresses me out. This year I’m just going to roll with it while baking a stupid amount of cupcakes and taking the girls to ice skating lessons and demanding that my phone sing Beastie Boy tunes for me. (And I think to myself, “What a wonderful world.”) ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

It’s the heart afraid of breaking that never learns to dance!

Since we last spoke, I helped a bunch of adorable first graders make buttons (I helped only the adorable ones. I sent the not-so-adorable ones away.), I took a gaggle of girls out for pedicures and fondue, I talked about physical therapy vs. massage with my migraine doctor, I met up with a friend for dinner and the symphony (as a result, I now have a married girl crush on Stephen Hough), I dealt with the sparks of a migraine, I went to a school dinner, I deposited some PTO cash, I took the girls to the American Girl store so they could blast through some of their birthday gift cards, I celebrated Scout’s one year anniversary with us, I worked on freelance, and I shopped for retiring teacher gifts.

This afternoon I attended a Greek and Roman banquet at the middle school (I baked a cake this morning!), I volunteered for a bit at the elementary, and I nearly finished one of the front sides of my Acer. This evening is dinner with a friend. Tomorrow is the Australian barbecue at the middle school and This American Life Live with my mom. Friday is lunch and more volunteer time. On Saturday, I’ll be turning 42 and writing in my new tiny orange diary. Sometime between now and then I need to choose a pen. I have no complaints.

Final Hot Pants Update: I am still the exact same size as I was two weeks ago. It is now time to wash my Hot Pants and become a bit more realistic, mainly because a good friend whom I’ve never actually met just gave me an amazing deal on a few ModCloth dresses, and the dresses are a size smaller than what I normally wear. Such a challenge. (This same good friend is vegan, and she just shared some very valuable information with me: Nutter Butter Cookies are vegan. Yes! They are! I bought a package yesterday (I’ve been going vegan on Tuesdays), and every time I eat one I think about those dresses that are certainly not going to GROW in the wash.)

In 2010, my parents gave me a rose bush for my birthday. It was lovely and FILLED with roses. I replanted it, and because I probably did something incorrectly, last year it graced me with only one rose.

On Saturday, it looked like this.

First Rose of Spring

It appears that one more rose may or may not pop up in the next few days. Perhaps I’ve been listening to too much Sarah McLachlan lately, but I’m still going to say it: I would rather have one beautiful rose than seven half-ass roses. (Didn’t Sarah McLachlan say that? Am I thinking of Enya again? REO Speedwagon?!)

Can I get away with wearing my Liesl sweater over a checked dress?!

Lace and Checks?

I think it works, but I’m not nearly as good at this as I used to be. (Remind me to tell you about the blind date I went on with a police officer who really wanted to show me his bulletproof vest. And by “bulletproof vest,” I mean bulletproof vest!) ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

This is what’s under my skirt.

When I was in college, I would spend the summer months working in St. Louis for a company that tries to prevent people from collecting unemployment benefits. (It’s a long story. It never really matched up with my core values, and because I hate to compromise when it comes to Values, I eventually transferred over to switchboard operating which might sound like a demotion, but it sure didn’t feel like one because I was fed many more cupcakes and catered lunches as an operator than I was as a claim investigator. PLUS, the pay was exactly the same! Now! Back to our story!)

Because my summer months were often spent trying to lose the weight I had gained the year before in college, my lunch as a switchboard operator (when I wasn’t enjoying catering or cupcakes) normally consisted of Slim-Fast and strawberries. A few people rolled their eyes at me, and looking back I can see why: I was probably weighing in at 120 and desperately trying to get back to 107 before school started in the fall. In other words, I probably didn’t need to drop any weight, but it was A Thing. So, there I sat with my little can of diet drink and my fresh fruit trying to make conversation with the (seemingly depressed, mostly crabby) throngs of people who sucked down Chinese leftovers and tubes of Pringles. (I worked with over 300 people. I can name all of the pleasant ones in the time it would take you to say “You take my life when you take the means whereby I live.” (Shakespeare was sort of a stud, wasn’t he?))

I exited that company for the last time more than a dozen years ago, and in that dozen years I’ve signed on for MANY types of weight loss whims. I drank nothing but soup for weeks at a time. I took weight loss pills. I ate a bunch of grapefruit. I didn’t eat anything.

I have a number of tragic flaws. My inability to accept what I see in the mirror is probably my worst.

When one of my favorite people called a few weeks back to report that Groupon was offering Hot Pants for next to nothing, I was all over it. Supposedly, you can wear these things for two weeks, and you just might drop two pants sizes. (Some people say you need to wear them during exercise. Others say they did next to nothing and still dropped the inches. One woman actually reported losing four inches from each thigh and all she did was light gardening and housework, and that’s why you can’t believe everything you read on the internet!)

I’ve been wearing skirts for the past week. Do you want to know why?

The pants? They are hot.

I decided to take the Two Week Hot Pants Challenge, and I decided to do it slothfully. (I still have the boot for two more weeks, meaning I really can’t move around very much. This is not a bad thing. I don’t like moving around very much. Hot Pants!) The two week challenge involves wearing the pants all day and all night. The only time I’ve taken them off is to shower, and then I quickly put them back on again. Surprisingly, they don’t stink. (Believe me. I’m highly paranoid of being stinky.)

This is what I know: The Hot Pants make me sweat like crazy. I’m now drinking 64 ounces of water every day (at least), and all 64 ounces are dripping off of my hips, legs, and butt. I’m totally okay with that, because it feels like something is happening. (I just hope the something has nothing to do with an unfortunate infection brought on by sitting in puddles of my own sweat. I know! It’s nastiness! Hot Pants!)

After one week of wearing the pants, here are my results:

My hips are exactly the same size as they were one week ago.

My thighs are exactly the same size as they were one week ago.

The texture of my skin is the same as it was one week ago.

And, yes. Deep down I sort of knew that this would be the case. There is no such thing as a pair of pants that will change your shape as you sit on the couch eating kale chips. (So many kale chips!) I’ll take my measurements again at the end of the challenge, but I have a funny feeling I won’t be seeing any changes. Because I take less than 1,000 steps per day! (I’m not proud of that. Don’t think I’m proud of that.)

So, anyway. One week down, and one to go.

Sing it with me! Hot Pants!

(Wait! Don’t hit my comment box and go all nutty on how ridiculous I am! I know myself even better than you know me! That is a fact!) ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>