Fluid Pudding : Page 99 of 123 : It's the old small talk!

Waffling! Constantly waffling! Itchy!

Anyone who knows me at all will find it hard to believe that I have spent the past five days attending outdoor gatherings like Barbecues and Lunches and Celebrations and Events During Which Fireworks Explode. When I woke up this morning with about 754 (give or take 742) fresh bug bites, I rolled over, raised my right hand, and vowed to never leave my house again. Sadly, I will be breaking this vow in about twenty minutes when the girls and I comb the area for cracked wheat and millet. You see, the very first thing I ate in Jackson Hole, Wyoming was an OSM waffle at The Bunnery. That waffle has been on my mind for 24 days, which happens to be the gestation period of a pheasant. I was able to find the recipe last weekend, and yesterday I found a waffle iron for seven dollars, meaning OSM Waffles are Meant to Be. (I’m not quite sure what millet is, but keep your fingers crossed that it stops the bug bites from itching, because right now my synapses are firing simple messages of “Waffles!” and “Itchy!”, and it’s becoming impossible to steer my waves toward things like “Laundry!” and “Take care of the children!”)

In about six hours, Harper will be testing for her yellow belt, which means in about six hours I will be crying at a martial arts center. (Perhaps I’ll bring an onion to chop so I don’t appear to be quite so emotionally unstable. I should have brought an onion to Toy Story 3. I’ll be bringing lots of onions to Harper first day of kindergarten…)

In less than 48 hours, I will be on the road to Memphis, where my road trip buddies and I will be touring Graceland, eating at a hotel that boasts of parading ducks, visiting a few yarn stores, and drinking sweet tea. Any other suggestions would be appreciated! Obviously, with less than 48 hours in Memphis, time is a consideration. (Time, time, time. See what’s become of me while I looked around for my possibilities?!) Waffles. Itchy. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

The Pursuit of Sparkling Happiness

Enjoy your weekend, whether it contains a holiday or not. I’ll be sitting over here in the kitchen assembling one of those cold vegetable pizza things with spinach dip and tiny biscuits. Also, please know that The Puddings are in possession of punks, glow worms, and smoke bombs. (J to the Ollification, Mr. Hancock.) ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

Blowing through the jasmine in my mind…

For whatever reason, it seems that I’ve been cleaning the house. So far, I’ve washed and organized 94% of the kitchen, I’ve scrubbed bathroom sinks and showers, I’ve organized 17% of the family room, and I’ve purchased a small vapor cleaner thing that will supposedly shoot all of that black gunk out of the shower in the master bathroom.

My goal is to get the house in shape this summer so that when the girls start school in August, I can apply my faux pearl necklace and sing things like, “Oh! It’s Tuesday! Time to vacuum the floors before I hit my freelance.” If I can break the work down into daily manageable tasks, my life will surely be sunnier and my hair will shine, and perhaps I’ll lose the final few pounds that simply must go before my happy pants fit again.

Anyway, later this afternoon I’ll be attacking my bookshelf, and that’s sort of exciting because during Bookshelf Cleaning Day, all books get to line up on the floor and grapple for potential positioning on the top shelf. Current top shelf selections include To Kill a Mockingbird, Letters of E.B. White, The Franchiser, A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius, and Remembering Denny. Currently competing for a top shelf position are the Shirley Jackson books recently gifted to me by Tempe, The Importance of Being Earnest, and The Elegance of the Hedgehog. (My book club is meeting over sushi on Thursday to discuss The Elegance of the Hedgehog, and I’m currently within five pages of finishing.)

By the way, yes! I’ve decided to go vegetarian again on July 1. This means I currently have three more days in which to eat meat. Last night I had Trader Joe’s Mandarin Orange Chicken, which is my absolute favorite chicken meal. Tonight we’ll be having a pesto pizza, and that’s insane because Only Three More Days To Go and I’m eating a meatless dinner?! I can’t even begin to think about tomorrow’s dinner because I’m getting my very first facial at 6:45 in the evening, and oddly enough, it will involve removing my shirt. This was a gift for my birthday, and it couldn’t be more perfect because Eleanor Roosevelt once said, “Every day do something that frightens you.” SO, not only will this gift exfoliate, moisturize, and fortify my skin—it will also make me a bit more Rooseveltian. (Important Clarification: I will not become a Republican, although I have eaten with many of them, and some are quite delightful.)

In less than two weeks, I’ll be traveling to Memphis for a weekend of debauchery. (Although my definition of that word has relaxed considerably in the past 20 years, current usage does include a trip to Graceland, some yarn store browsing, and a search for vegetarian barbecue. (I will, of course, settle for sweet tea and a baked sweet potato. I will not be one of those vegetarians who ruin it for everyone else.))

I shall now leave the house to buy muffins. Enjoy your day. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

I’m making big decisions without internet access!

My phone went dead yesterday afternoon. AND, when the phone goes dead, the DSL goes dead, and suddenly I’m faced with an army of chirping crickets and all I want to do is check my e-mail or read websites or research eyelash growth, and twenty years ago I had no idea what the internet was, and now I’m really wondering what I did with my time back then. (Wait! I remember! I actually hung out with real people and went to real restaurants/bars and read books. Also, because I was in college at the time, I’m assuming I studied a bit. And, oh how I wish I could revisit those years and perhaps try a bit harder in my classes. Have I ever told you that I changed my major seven times in five years? Question: How do you go from Piano Performance to Psychology/Religion in five steps? I’ll tell you how: English, Communications, Elementary Education, Occupational Therapy, Nursing!)

Where was I? Yes. Without the internet. So, I walked out of the house at six in the evening to get the mail, and a red truck came zooming (zooming!) up the hill with the horn honking and the driver waving. He pulled up into our driveway and yelled, “Is Jeff home?!” Jeff was not home. The driver introduced himself as our back yard side neighbor, and told me that he has been cutting the overgrowth of trees that now fall on his and our property from the other back yard side neighbor’s yard. (This is so boring.) Anyway, he asked if he could back his truck up to our yard today and haul away the branches and Oh! He noticed that we have a sassafras tree growing in our side yard, and can he make tea?! (Yes. Yes, he can.)

I told him when I saw him zooming up the hill, I thought he was going to ask if we had a working phone. Because we don’t. He laughed and claimed to not know anything about that.

This morning Jeff walked out into the back yard to check out the overgrowth, and he found that the Back Yard Side Guy had cut our phone wire. And I know it had to have been an accident, because the guy’s super nice but Argh.

An hour ago the girls and I drove thirty miles south so I could check my e-mail and tell you this story. And what a great story it is, no? I’d appreciate a few bucks for gas.

Also, my OB/GYN has been trying to get me off of the birth control pills for three years now, because the hormones mess with me and I’m 40 and I’m a bit irresponsible when it comes to taking them. SO, I’m thinking about letting her insert tiny coils into my fallopian tubes, which will fool the fallopians into forming scar tissue around the coils, thereby making it nearly impossible for me to produce unplanned Pudding Pops. (Please know that I didn’t come up with this coil idea on my own, although I sort of wish I had. Once again, intelligence is power.)

The only thing that sort of makes me stare at the sky and put my index finger to the side of my head is the fact that I sometimes think I have one more kid waiting to be made. If I do the scar tissue thing, that kid will never show his or her face.

I’m not sure why I told you the tree trimming story first, when it’s fairly clear that permanent birth control is the more compelling topic.

Finally, I’m going to go vegetarian again on July 1. SO, if you were going to invite me out for a steak dinner, your best bet would be to send that invitation out in the next few days.

And now I shall return to my house, where I’ll be without the internet for another 24 hours. At least. Inhale. Exhale slowly.
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The Puddings are Camping Out! Come over here to admire our tent and earn a chance to win a $50 Visa gift card from BlogHer! ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

I ate a waffle on a mountain.

I don’t want to bore you with long windy stories about our vacation.

Instead, I’ll show you some of my favorite photos.

The view from our hotel room:

From the top of Rendezvous Mountain:

Totally loving the mountain thing:

I ate a waffle (and drank a Fat Tire) on the top of Rendezvous Mountain:

The girls rode a horse at the Diamond Cross Ranch:

We hiked at Grand Teton National Park:

(The entire set may be seen here.)

Other notable events: I had my first OSM waffle at The Bunnery and am now obsessed with finding a recipe. I ate a soft pretzel at Old Faithful because it seemed like the right thing to do. I accidentally exposed my underpants to the photographer at the Alpine Slide, and will now try my best to either sit like a lady while riding a ski lift, or leave the skirts at home. (Seeing my splayed legs and pink underpants showcased on the computer screen as we were asked if we wanted to purchase a souvenir was a bit horrifying.) ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

Never forget the thumb.

A few days back, Harper decided that along with being a Doctor of Bunnies, she would also like to work in a nail salon when she grows up.

She knows how important experience is when applying for a position in a nail salon, so she asked Jeff if he would like to be her first customer.

He sat down on the (sort of filthy) kitchen floor and gathered his nerves as Harper prepared her polishes.

It isn’t often that the girls notice Jeff’s missing toe. (Long story short for those who aren’t aware: Jeff accidentally cut off his thumb while working in a blacksmith shop several years ago. A plastic surgeon decided to amputate his toe and place it where the missing thumb used to be. All is well, and Jeff still plays basketball.) Anyway, Harper felt a bit cheated when she realized that she had five polishes, and only nine toes.

Harper: Give me the thumb.

When the polish dried, Harper encouraged Jeff to show off his complete set of freshly painted toes.

The next day, when Jeff went to work, his boss immediately noticed the sparkly toe thumb.

Later that evening, Jeff and the girls went to the pool, where I’m sure the other dads admired his rainbow toes.

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The Puddings are Camping Out! Come over here to admire our tent and earn a chance to win a $50 Visa gift card from BlogHer! ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

Am I forgetting anything?

Shirts (long/short), skirts, tights, jeans, underclothes, cardigan, shoes, jewelry, and socks.

Makeup and remover and fiber and deodorant and pills and retainer and camera and hair goo.

Pajamas and book (The Elegance of the Hedgehog and Shirley Jackson) and iPod and yarn (with patterns) and travel notebook (with pens).

Almonds and coffee.

Ziploc bags.

(Lines three and four are the most important to me.)

Enjoy your week!

(I’ve scheduled a post to go up all by itself on Tuesday, and am wondering if that sort of thing actually works. Apologies for leaving you in Suspense.) ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

It’s hip to be square.

Before I even started typing this post, I hesitated.

Because it’s about my maladies. (Look away, Reader Eddie. These are the posts that burn you to bits!)

Admittedly, my maladies are lame. AND, the only reason I’m even USING the word malady is because I like to pronounce it mah-LAY-dee, as in “Would you fancy a cup of tea, mah-LAY-dee?”

This morning I loaded up the girls and took them to see my doctor. I’ve been waking up with one hell of a backache for the past three weeks, and it doesn’t really matter how much I bend and flex and worm around on the floor—it’s not getting better. I would continue to ride this storm out, but we’re leaving in a few days and I really don’t feel like going all Fred Sanford with a cane in Wyoming. Also, I’ve got a spot on my hip. <—Did you notice that? Totally secondary to the back thing.

My doctor laid me down (Billy Joe’s “Piano Man” was playing in the background. My doctor had me feeling alright.), checked out a few things, asked a few questions, and decided that a week-long course of anti-inflammatory drugs paired up with a few muscle relaxants and some exercises will have me Couch to 5K-ing in no time. (As if.)

Me: Oh! I also want to show you this thing on my hip.

Doctor: What’s going on?

Me (all red-faced and trying to pull my too-tight skirt over my cushioned hip): I’ve got this spot thing that showed up a few weeks ago, and now it looks like it’s growing and, well, I can’t wear pants that touch it because yee-ow!

Doctor (examining the map of South America that is slowly forming on my right side): Ooh. Is it draining at all?

Me: I don’t want to talk about it. Um, no. It’s not draining. But it feels like an eruption could take place near Paraguay.

Doctor (poking me): I think you’ve got a touch of cellulitis.

So, anyway. It looks like I’ve got a touch of cellulitis. And now I want to show it to you, because I’ve got a blog. (Please know that according to Wikipedia, Cellulitis is unrelated (except etymologically) to Cellulite. Except etymologically. I love that.)

And let’s just get something straight. It appears that I am showing you my butt in this photo. By now, we all know that I would never do such a thing. Please be aware that the spot is actually above my hip bone. I have no idea what sort of contorted move I did to make it look like I was dropping low on the skirt. Anyway. This photo? Totally rated PG. And another thing: Since when do I have an Adam’s apple?!

I should end on a positive note. In the above photo, I like my pointed shoulder. I also don’t mind the crazy veins that sit on my fourth knuckle. Best of all? I’m wearing a Nashville Flood Tee.

Okay, then. Back to your day.
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Fluid Pudding has Smoothie Moves! Come over here to watch the video and earn a chance to win a $50 Visa gift card from BlogHer! ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

Dear Salad: Be what you want to be.

Me, calling into a local dive restaurant: Hello there! I have a Buy One, Get One Free Entrée coupon, and I was wondering if a salad counts as an entrée.

Guy of Local Dive (GOLD): A salad is not an entrée, Ma’am.

Me (feeling sort of ridiculous): Is a sandwich an entrée?

GOLD: I don’t think a sandwich is an entrée. You have to order from the Entrée section of the menu.

Me (holding back tears of laughter/pain): Okay, well, I have your menu in front of me right now, and I’m not seeing anything that’s labeled Entrée.

GOLD: I’ve never actually seen our menu, so I’m not sure how to help you at this point.

Wait. I want to repeat that (in italics!) for you.

GOLD: I’ve never actually seen our menu, so I’m not sure how to help you at this point.

And I should have asked for a manager, but I believe my time would be better spent actually driving to the restaurant and giving GOLD an awkward hug. And then we’ll eat cheesecake. As an entrée. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

I’m now taking a probiotic pill, so there’s that!

This morning I remembered that I’ve been meaning to check in on Fluid Pudding. So, hello there! The past week has been insanely hectic, but I can’t really name more than five things that we’ve done. (Such is the life of the sporadic freelancer/perky homemaker I suppose. Jeff returns from work in the evening, and I often cannot report on any sort of progress that I’ve made during the past nine hours. Perhaps I should start charting my input and output. I really do need to drink more. I sometimes have pillow creases that last until the evening hours!) ((Note: Jeff doesn’t really ask me to report on progress. I’m not sure how I would respond if he did.))

Speaking of Jeff, it seems that his job leads him out of town every year over the Memorial Day weekend. It all has to do with a human anatomy and physiology symposium (this particular one was in Denver), and if I wasn’t completely secure in our relationship, I might suspect that “human anatomy and physiology symposium” is a pretty clever way of saying “out of town tail” but deep down I know better. (I’m the perfect blend of lovely and psychotic. No one in their right mind would ever stray.) Anyway, this symposium forced me to single parent once again, and that experience never fails to lift me toward a new level of appreciation for those who single parent every day. I wish I could buy each and every one of you a funnel cake.

Let’s see. Harper and Meredith had their yearly examination at the doctor’s office this afternoon, and Harper received what we like to call her kindergarten shot, which is the simpleton way of saying she is now immunized against Diphtheria, Tetanus, Pertussis, and Polio. (Oh, Pertussis. You are definitely not welcome around here.) And I know how controversial this sort of thing is, so I’ll now point my finger in the other direction and scream, “Hey! We’re leaving to go on vacation in a little over a week!” AND, someone will actually be staying at our house during that time, meaning I really should do something about the 84 baskets of laundry that have been sitting around in the front room for the past several months. (Believe me, my intentions are always good. It’s just that I’m often L to the AZY. That hairball thing has been growing in the shower for weeks.)

Anyway: Vacation. I’m very pleased to report that we’ll be heading out to Jackson Hole, Wyoming in about ten days. And wait a second. Do you remember a few paragraphs up how I sort of complained that Jeff has a job that sometimes takes him out of town? Well, because he’s sort of good at his job, he was recently given the Editor of the Year award, which included this very vacation. Seriously. L to the AZY is sort of schmooing into L to the UCKY. (Clarification: I’m the lucky one. Jeff totally earned this gig.)

What else? I’ll tell you what else! I purchased three skeins of laceweight merino a few nights back. I haven’t purchased yarn in months, but as soon as I saw the phrase “1,312 yards” coupled with “$16.00” and “Fleece Artist”, I couldn’t resist. And while we’re sort of on the topic of yarn, this morning I fell in love with a yarn store in London that isn’t yet open, but will be in a few weeks. Anyway. Are you still with me?

We’ve been doing an awful lot of this lately:

I hope you are the same.

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Fluid Pudding has Smoothie Moves! Come over here to watch the video and earn a chance to win a $50 Visa gift card from BlogHer! ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>