Old woman ranting and raving.

Things that annoy me, infuriate me or just bug me:

!) Going to a movie and wondering if I put out a weird vibe or something because I swear to sweet baby hey zeus that:
A) The sneezer always sits directly behind me and I can almost feel the snot droplets hitting my hair.
B) The talkers sit right next to the sneezer. These are not teenagers (popular belief) but tend to be older women who talk during the previews and all through the movie whether it be about how cute Richard Gere's butt is or "isn't California just so pretty...all those palm trees....you know my friend, Ditzy just got back from California and she went on one of those star's homes tours and she saw Cher's house...."
C) Someone comes in late and then has the audacity to ask me to move down a seat so that she, her husband and their whining five year old daughter can sit right next to me...I deliberately came to the theater fifteen minutes early to sit exactly where I want to sit. I do not WANT to move. You get here late and expect to get prime seating and five will get you seven, you will put that whine ass child next to me. NO. THANK. YOU. I. AM. NOT. MOVING. It should be a rule: If you arrive late, you have to sit in the front row.
D) Fuck it. Fine. Sit next to me. But...good hell, who is wearing that god awful perfume? Did you POUR it over yourself? And your child smells like pee. The whole mix up of pee and perfume is truly disgusting.
E) When the movie is over, push past me to get out and then STAND in front of me while you wait for someone to let you cut into the line descending the stairs. I was reading the credits, but hey, no big deal...I would much rather look at the back of your big ass. MOVE ALONG or stay seated until you can get out quickly.

2) Why does Bing take apart the light fixtures and then not remember how to put them back together. WHY did she have to cut the power and WHY is she calling every friend she has who is a fix it person to help her put it back together OVER THE PHONE?

3) Why are my hands and feet never warm? I have an electric mattress pad. My butt will be on fire, but my hands ice cold.

4) Why is it that when I use the bathroom at work and I am the only person in there, will someone come in and when there are 10 stalls to pick from, they have to pick the one right next to me? And then...they shit and I have to sit there and listen to them push out a turd? The truth is that most people aren't disgusted by the smell of their own shit, but smelling someone else's shit is just....oh fuck awful.

5) Why is it that Bing will not eat a cookie, but if I have a cookie, she will ask me for a bite and then eat half of mine? It's like she believes that since she wasn't the one who plucked the cookie out of the jar, well then...it doesn't count for calories. GET YOUR OWN COOKIE.

6) Why are my nieces and nephews comfortable with using the word gay as a derogatory term? As in, "God, that dress she was wearing at church was so gay!" And they don't mean it is festive or pretty. They mean it was ugly. When I correct them, they apologize but the next time they see me, it slips out again. Would they be okay with saying, "God, that dress she was wearing at church was so AFRICAN AMERICAN"? No. Because they are educated enough to know not to use a racial slur. I guess they figure this is no big deal. But it is.

7) Why do they always have crappy lunch in the cafeteria at my office when I forget my lunch? I don't really like make your own nachos day.

8) Why is it when Bing is sick, she acts as if the sky is falling but when I am sick, she thinks that it should just be life as usual. She is not often sick, but she IS sort of a baby about things. Like the time she came up to me to check out a lump in her armpit and she was scared stupid. I took one look at it and it was plain to see that it was an ingrown hair. If she runs a fever, she is sure that she has the influenza virus and even more sure that she needs antibiotics. When I tell her that nearly ALL viruses actually do fine without antibiotics, she looks at me in disbelief. I KNOW what I am talking about here, dude. I did go to school for YEARS and YEARS and I wasn't learning about iambic pentameter.

9) Why do I have to look like a chicken on a hot plate when I dance? Can't I look like Paula Abdul?

10) I always wanted to be the sort of woman who could wear hats. I'm not. I would love to look good in a cowboy hat or a beanie or even a bowler. Instead, I just look...odd.

11) Why do my sisters agree so wholeheartedly that I am the odd one in the family? Can't they use the word eccentric? It just sounds so much better. The way they say it, I feel like I should be kept in an attic or something.

12) Why does my car finally warm up right when I get to the parking lot at work? And in that vein, why does my favorite song come on the radio right when I turn into said parking lot?

13) When did my boobs start falling into my armpits when I lay down? And why do I feel like bawling when I catch some stupid show about neck surgery for women who have jowls? ("Most women start to get that jowly look around the age of about 35 up..." This is why I remind myself whenever someone takes my picture to keep my chin UP. Don't want to show my jowls....


14) Why is it when Bing and I have an argument, she always says things like "We will re-visit this topic when you aren't hysterical."? HYSTERICAL? She thinks THAT was hysterical? I'll show her HYSTERICAL. And if I'M the hysterical one, why is she the one who is yelling?

15) I swear that I think my dog deliberately holds his pee and poop for at least a half hour when we go for a walk. I think he is smart and has figured out that once he does his business, I will head home. I used to have a friend who trained his dog to pee and poop on a certain square of his sidewalk. He would take him outside, lead him to his spot and say, "banana." And the dog would just...go on command. ON the square. Then he would rinse it off with the hose or use his pooper scooper to clean it up. When I asked about the word "banana", he told me that he had learned it from a dog training manual, that when his dog was a puppy, he said the word banana with great exuberance when the dog did his business and when he did it on the spot, he got a treat. How I missed this gem of an idea is beyond me, but I do know that Socks just looked at me as if I were insane when I started shrieking out "BANANA!" every time he peed or shat. I guess I should have started earlier in the game. I am also convinced that as soon as he is alone in the house, Socks jumps around and dances on our bed since it is contraband when we are home, unless he is specifically invited. As I said, smart fucking dog that one.

What are your pet peeves? Because I think I am almost through.

Well, except for the fact that I think all line cutters should be spanked. And the people that they cut in front of should be the spankers.

So...your turn, dudes.

Best and worst

The worst part about having a bad cold: feeling like I can't hear, like every time I swallow, I am swallowing a sharp knife and having to get up and go to work while Bing gets to stay home (teacher on Christmas break). Also...coming home from work and feeling like shit and smelling paint. Yes, she FINALLY decided to paint the bathroom...when I am sick.

The best part: watching this, while being held and loved up by my partner and the dog:



And...yes...having Bing bring me a bowl of ice cream for my sore throat and when I admonish her for taking a bite of it and using my spoon ("You will get my germs! Not a wise move, sugar foot!"), telling me that even my germs are "Holly Golightly."

I never wanted to be in a long term relationship. Now, I don't believe that I could live without her.

It came just the same and it was just fine

Nice to wake up to Bing playing and singing this:




Then...baked orange rolls and took them over to my sister's home for brunch. It was quiet and strangely....pleasant. Just me, Bing, my sister, her husband and my mentally handicapped niece who made me burst out laughing by yelping out, "Merry Christmas, Aunt Maria!" and then leaping into my arms. She's 37 with a mentality of about 9. She is a Christmas angel.

Afterwards, I hurried home to watch the Disney Christmas parade with the hopes of catching Lee DeWyze...no dice. Oh well. There is always u tube.

Bing and I went to see True Grit, the new one by the Coen brothers. Our take: it was okay but couldn't top the original. We both were foolishly reluctant to let Jeff Bridges step into John Wayne's footsteps. But..Matt Damon? Brilliant! And Josh Brolin? Hilarious and perfect. And the new little girl to play the lead? Sorry...can't think of her name and am too lazy to look it up. She stole the entire show right out from under the more seasoned actors.

Then...off to a Chinese buffet since neither one of us could face making dinner without Liv. And it was fun. We ate with chopsticks, reminded each other of hilarious stories from our past together. ("Remember that time when we were going at it on the sofa and my mother not only came to the door but somehow remembered that we hid the extra set of keys under that rock in the garden and we heard that front door opening and ran around like the Keystone cops? Remember that I tried to put on your pajama bottoms with the reindeer on them and actually got them halfway up before it occurred to me that they DIDN'T FIT? And then I yelled out that I was coming and not to walk in any farther and then we started laughing like lame junior high kids because I said: I'M COMING? and then my mother kissed you right on the lips and you were horrified because you had pussy breath and that was just so terribly wrong in every way possible? And then after she left, when we were talking, I said..We'll at least you didn't have penis breath and we both laughed our asses off?")

After dinner, we came home to open gifts. I got WAY too spoiled. Bing bought me a gorgeous opal ring, bracelet and necklace, almost too pretty to wear. She also found that Bath and Body Works body butter that I adore. And an entire slew of Burt's Bees products because I have been a fan for years.

Chanel # 5 perfume so that I can smell exactly the way I enjoy.

Cupcakes from here. Red velvet cupcakes. Decadent.

From Liv: a birdhouse that made herself. And painted a beautiful robin's egg blue. (So that was why that one day she had blue paint all over her fingers...)

From Harriet: a certificate to meet her to get an all over body massage and then get manicures/pedicures.

From my good friends from Chicago: a 200 dollar gift certificate to Victoria's Secret with a funny card reminding me that when they visited this summer, they noticed that when I folded clothes, I had way too many Hane's for Her white undies in the clothes basket...("What is a spankin' hot chili pepper like you wearing buster brown white underpants, girlfriend?"...um...they are comfy?) But, I decided that I would getthese instead. I have a new obsession: side tie boots and these are great, no high heel, which is perfect for my elderly self.

Now, I am waiting patiently until 8 pm when Liv said she would call to wish us a Merry Christmas.

SO much to be grateful for and I know it. A loving, devoted partner who sings me Christmas songs when I am barely awake..a beautiful daughter who is my pride and joy...friends who really KNOW me and don't let me get away with kicking my own ass and oh-so-many other material things: books, music, good movies, good television, food that is delicious, a warm home with a boiler that works like a top, a loaf of banana bread (made with Kahlua!) on the kitchen sideboard.

Warm coats in snowy weather. Medications that work.

Blog friends who write so wonderfully....

An invitation to a New Year's Eve party that will be really fun. My bff is having her first New Year's Eve party EVER and she and her husband know how to throw a party. It will be kick ass, epic. And I can wear that new sweater dress that looks just right.

I really want for nothing. No reason to be a whiner or feel sad this Christmas. Too much to celebrate.

All I need now is for the democrats to take back the house someday, for the Westboro clan to stop with their pee butt behavior, and for the right to marry my partner and not just because we so need some new pans. But, because the rest of the world can FINALLY realize that we are no threat to the sanctity of Britney Spears multiple marriages.

Peace out, dudes. And how about sharing about the one gift that you liked the best?

This is how it's done...

The alarm goes off at 6 and uncharacteristically, you wake up instantly and without any groggery.

Today is the day that you put her on a plane to go visit her father for Christmas.

You lay in your partner's arms for a while and talk about how sweet last night was, how you all laid on the sofa together and watched the original True Grit and ate Christmas cookies. You feel your throat start to get tight and well, can't have that. None of that, missy. So, you get up and go take a shower and in there, alone, with hot water sluicing down, you get it out, cry silently.

Breakfast is a hurried affair. No one is all that hungry but you fake it since Bing made cinnamon rolls. The dog is like a very smart child. He sees Liv's bags all packed and stacked by the back door and he suddenly gets clingy and whiny, climbing all over her. Liv sits with him on the floor, petting him behind his ears and after a lame attempt to be aloof, he gives in and flops over on his back so that she can scratch his belly.

It's time to go. You load up the car, fussing over Liv's hat and mittens as if she were in kindergarten again. She lets you, which shows that everything is just all wrong. You are to meet Tinton and his pilot friend at 8:30. The should have arrived by now and there they are, right where they said they'd be. They left Denver early this morning and need to be back by early afternoon as the pilot has another client at 3. You go up and give Tinton a nice peck on the cheek when what you really want to do is stomp on his foot and punch him in the nose, tell him to leave your baby alone.

They do need to get going. A storm is coming tonight and the goal is to make sure that Liv is safe in Denver by then. You give yourself a talking to in your head, remind yourself not to start bawling.

At the last moment, it all almost dissolves. Liv turns to you, tears spilling, eyes suddenly unsure. She is having second thoughts. You frantically begin to think of how to help her, how to keep her home. But then, she rallies and whispers that she is fine, really. That she just felt sort of homesick for a minute and isn't that stupid? She will be back so soon and she is really looking forward to those mountain hikes with her father.

There is a flurry of hugs and kisses and then she is on the little plane, waving to you from the window. You go up to the pilot and tell him that he has precious cargo onboard. DO NOT LET ANYTHING HAPPEN TO YOUR DAUGHTER. DOES HE UNDERSTAND? He pats you on the back and you look him square in the eye for a long time, until he stops smirking at you and promises that everything will be fine. Tinton tries to hug you but you step away, suddenly furious with him. He says, "I know what this is costing you, Ice..."

You tell him that NO, he does NOT understand just what this is COSTING you.

His smile falters and you know that you should make everything right for Liv's sake, so you smile nicely at him, faking it.

As you watch the plane circle and ascend, you keep your arms tight around yourself, shrugging off Bing's attempt to hold you. This needs to be managed alone.

Suddenly out of nowhere, you remember something.

You think of how Liv used to love watching Sesame Street and how she just adored Elmo and his pet fish, Dorothy. How at the end of the show, Elmo would say, "Say goodbye to Dorothy!" and Liv would pipe up in her high little voice and call out, "Goodbye, Dor-tea."

You think of the first time she smarted off to you big time. She was in third grade and you can't even remember what she said now, just that it was smarty pants. How you gave her a long cool look and told her that no, she would NOT be talking to you in that voice and saying those smarty pants words and that she could just go sit on the sofa for a few moments and rethink her verbage.

She went quietly off, feeling badly. And you were relieved that she at least felt badly about her words. How you went in to sit with her after fifteen minutes and how she was crying so hard that it stunned you. You figured she would be remorseful, but not CRYING so hard. And when you sat next to her and pulled her into your lap, how she wept so copiously, saying, "Mama, I'm sorry that I was disrespectful!"

It would not be the first time she smarted off, but it would be the first time that you realized that Liv's conscience was well in place and you would realize that she was a wonderful old soul in that little body.

You would remember how she went to that horse camp with her friends two summers ago even though, like you, she is afraid of horses. How she looked scared to death perched on that big horse named "Just Cruisin'" and yet how poised she was, not letting anyone else know that she was afraid. How she learned to canter and trot and rein in but after the class was over, how she confessed that she was glad that it was over, that she just didn't cotton to horses. And then she looked at you and said, "I will never take another class just because my friends are. I will only do things that I am interested in." How you fervently hoped that this would cross over into her teenage years and how maybe she would be okay, get through because she has that inner voice that works just fine for her.

You would remember hours spent laying out on the grass together in the summer, singing to the vegetables. How she would go sit up in her tree house after a day at school when some girl said something mean to her or she got left out of something. She has never been a sharer, really, is mostly like you, likes to suffer her pain by herself. Yet, how she would come down from the tree house and eventually find your lap. Because while she likes to be alone for a while to think things through, she also likes to know that you are there.

You walk back to the car with Bing and discuss what to do with the rest of the day. Grocery shopping today instead of tomorrow since the storm is coming. Maybe take all those bags on the porch to Goodwill? Bing decides to bake cookies tonight. Any suggestions? You say you'd like some snickerdoodles. She says, "Done!" You smile at each other.

Bing slides in the Lee DeWyze cd to listen to on the way home even though she detests it. She knows how much you like it. You lean your head on the window and let his voice soothe you.

When you get home, you go into her room and find that Liv has neatly made her bed. Socks is sitting on it, staring morosely at you. You scratch his ears, promise a long walk before the storm comes.

You walk out of her room and then...foolishly...turn back and say, "Goodbye, Dorothy."

It helps. Somehow it helps to say that.

Can you beat this one?

Ok...let's skip the meme for a bit and have a riotous fun contest. I will lay down the first gauntlet.

Let's see who has said the stupidest thing on a first date or done the most embarrassing thing. Rule: It has to be completely true. (But..what the fuck? Like we can check?)

This is my mortifying, stupid thing that I said on a first date.

Scene: It was my first date with Len. I had recently gotten out of a really bad long term relationship and was tentatively testing the date water with my big toe. Len and I worked together at the hospital ER. He was in administration, a suit, basically. He mostly did a lot of check and balance work in the finance department. He and I had flirted for weeks before he asked me out, so we knew each other pretty well. Not a lot, but enough. We were sitting in a restaurant eating dinner and I mentioned that I had this big rug in my basement that was beautiful but needed to be cleaned. I said that it was too heavy for me to lift by myself. He offered to help me. I accepted.

So there we were after our dinner, sitting on the sofa at my house, drinking wine and talking. I could see that he was going to kiss me very, very soon and because I was a practical girl, I wanted to get that rug out of the basement before we got to any of the heavy breathing. NOT that I intended to go to bed with him....at this point I wasn't even sure if I wanted to go out on a second date with him. The date had been merely okay. So...I gave him my prettiest, sweetest smile and planned to say:

"So...are you ready to go down in the basement with me and help me with that rug?"

What I said instead, for some crazy reason that I will never understand was:

"So, are you ready to go down on me in the basement?"

I guess my question to you is: Can you top THAT?

A meme and some news....

Well, I have Liv's bags all packed to go to Denver on Thursday. Packages sent last week. The Christmas tree looks all nekkid since Bing and I already gave each other our Christmas gifts (a new electric mattress pad for the bed for me and some new boots for her...yes, romance is alive and well in our house built around Kay Jewelers....smokin' hot love nest here...)

We decided not to go to Chicago. I know it sounds stupid, but the thought of going even FARTHER away from Liv just didn't sit well with me. So...staying home and having a nice quiet holiday together. Just us two scorching hot women in heat. Actually, there WILL probably be much more physical enjoyment of each other with Liv gone. No worries about the pattering of little feet. I said as much to Bing and she told me that she wanted that in writing....Actually, don't tell...but I did make a little trip to Victoria's Secret last week for some lacy new underthings. Merry Fucking Christmas, baby. First time I ever bought anything underwearish in midnight blue. It just looked so much prettier and less obvious than the red ones. Maybe I will get a Santa Hat to complete the mood....

So...I decided to start a meme. Probably will take me a few days to finish it as it is a long one. Thanks to this blogger allowing me to steal her thunder....


Your best friend is in a car accident and you two got into a fight an hour before. What do you do?

First off, Harriet and I seldom, if ever, fight. I honestly cannot remember ever being so mad at her that I felt guilty. 'Tis true. We really are that sort of sickening friends that we never really argue. But, I can tell you this: if she was in a car accident, I would be by her side licketty split. I'd bring her kids home with me so that her husband could sit with her. I'd sneak her in Arby's jamocha shakes when she was in recovery. I'd bring a porn book to read out loud to her and make her laugh. (I have actually done this before when she was in the hospital recuperating from having her last baby. I amazed us both at being incredibly good at reading things out loud like: "Oh, baby. Put that big hard poker in me. Make me scream, he-man!") Harriet was laughing so hard that she was crying at one point. Yes, I am THAT good.

Something you wish that you hadn't done in your life.

Been such a bad girlfriend to so many. I was careless with my loves when I was younger. And I regret it because, with the exception of one, they all deserved someone so much sweeter than me.

Something that you wish that you had done in your life.

Become a high school English teacher. It was what my heart wanted. My brain wanted a more lucrative salary, so I opted for the medical field. I've regretted it my whole adult life. And please...no one write to say that I can STILL do this if I want to. I am not going back to college at age 52.

The reason you believe that you are alive today.

No fucking idea. I was not only careless with my loves, I was also careless with alcohol and drugs for many years. More than once, I woke up in a strange bed with a man or woman that I could barely remember. I once left a bar with a near stranger, rode home with him on his motorcycle without a helmet and spent the weekend with him. When I left on Sunday, I STILL did not know his last name. How stupid was THAT? It is truly amazing that I was never hurt. Even more amazing that I have never once gotten a STD.

Have you ever thought about giving up on life?

You know....NO. No matter how bad things were, I honestly never was on the precipice of suicide. I always knew that I would figure a way out. And I think it helped that I have always truly loved being alone. I am a solitary person, as a rule and it is mostly because I like my own company very much.

Ok...will do more later. Time to take a shower and get into my nice warm bed with a good book.

Christmas List

1) A snuggli or whatever that contraption is called...the blanket with sleeves. Seriously. I GET COLD.

2) A new electric blanket. I swear that ours doesn't get warm enough. Are you seeing a pattern here?

3) A space heater for my office. My tootsies get cold under my desk.

4) Warm sweaters. Warm tights. Boots with fur lining. A really good pair of warm gloves. I have some fancy pants ones with fur on the wrists, but they don't keep my digits warm.

5) Coffee. Good. Coffee. Cafe du Monde. French Quarter. Anything with a nice dark roast.

6) That almond scented bath oil that I like and can never remember the name of.


I am soooo old. It is all about being warm, yes? So...share. What is on YOUR list?

I would if I could, but I just can't...

I listened to the song and how crafty of you to make it a Lee DeWyze one because you do know that I have a weakness for his music.

I did listen. I did get it. And I won't lie to you. I feel pulled sometimes too. Especially after a weekend like the last one I spent with Bing.

It was all snowy and yucky outside. This makes me feel trapped. I don't feel all cozy and inclined to bake cookies. When the weather outside is frightful, I feel like going around and throwing things. I pace.

The visa bill came. I thought that she was going to go through the roof, I really did.

("How can you spend 100 dollars on a SWEATER!")

Easy. It was pretty. It felt like a dream. It was soft. It fit. Beautifully.

("I thought that we had an agreement that you weren't going to buy so many books at the book store, that you would first try to get them at the library!")

Well, the last time I checked, I was number 231 to get the new Sedaris book and I am a sucker for anything that man writes. So, I bought a few books.

The argument wasn't pretty. It was all about me telling her to LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE about my spending. I am, in general, fairly frugal. But, okay...at Christmastime, I do like a pretty new outfit. I cannot shop at Goodwill the way that Bing does, sorry. I LIKE cashmere. It was ONE sweater.

The fight drifted to other things as fights will do. The way I am sick of her being such a slob, sick of her making fish every other night and making the house stink. It drifted into those troubled areas that we usually deftly side step. My low sexual libido. ("Why do I feel like I have to constantly coax you into making love? You make me work for it each and every time. Are you attracted to me at ALL?")

Maybe if the house didn't reek of fish smell, I might feel more like fucking....

Liv would wander in and I would clam up, hush us both up. I refuse to argue in front of my daughter and Bing is usually in agreement. But, this time...not so much. She looked peeved beyond words that Liv had the audacity to wander into the kitchen to get a glass of water.

I got out of the shower Saturday night to find her sitting in the recliner, huddled under the blanket with the space heater aimed directly at her feet. I was shivering from my shower, with wet hair. Instead of sweetly asking her to move over, I just glared at her. WHY MUST SHE ALWAYS HOG THE BLANKET AND THE SPACE HEATER?

I turned on my heel and went to bed early. She woke me up when she came to bed, nuzzling me, asking me softly why I didn't tell her goodnight? I murmured something, too sleepy to think straight or even remember my annoyance.

It was softer after that, I let her in.

She is my dearest love and my greatest pain in the ass.

No one can irritate me exactly the way that she can. And because I am so comfortable in the shelter of her love, I am completely me, warts and all. She does not always get the sweet natured me. She does get the bitchy me. Frequently.

I find myself doing things like watching her drink water and wondering why she insists on puckering her lips like that when she drinks. She looks like a fish. I want her to stop it and drink the way I want her to.

I want her to stop leaving her goddamn gloves on the kitchen table. How HARD is it to put them in the closet?

So..you see it was a bad weekend. The kind of weekend where I feel the weight of my commitment. And those enduring love binds feel like chains.

So, when you send me a video like that....well....yes, I allow myself to sink into a musing about what it would be like if I acted on those feelings.

I must tell you this, though. I am always honest with you, so I will admit that yes, I have feelings too. Those feelings. But, I will NEVER act on them. I may lose myself in a daydream from time to time but I am not foolish.

She is my life. My love. And sometimes it doesn't work. But, nevertheless, her aim is true and my heart belongs to her.

But I am human too.

True Story

I hate mornings. Unless I can sleep until noon, it is too early. So...the alarm goes off this morning at 6:15 like it does every damn weekday morning and I lumber off to the shower. I'm in the middle of washing my hair when I look up to see Bing's face peeking at me.

"What?" I say, because I am just so sweet tempered in the morning.

"Um. How are you doin'?" she says.

I give her a dirty look. "What do you WANT?" I ask again. This time, I am not even trying to be nice.

"Well, nothing, really. I just...um...honey?"

"WHAT???!!!" That was my gentle modulated voice there.

"You still have your pajama bottoms on...."

I am baffled but look down. Sure 'nuf. There I am SOAKING WET in the shower, washing my hair, WEARING MY PAJAMA BOTTOMS.

It all worked out. I sort of sputtered in surprise. Bing told me to take them off and hand them to her and she would wring them out in the sink. I did this.

Ever try taking off soaking wet pajama bottoms in the shower?

Clearly, no. Because you have never done something so asinine.

Later, over coffee, we talked. I asked her why she didn't stop me from getting in the shower when I was clearly half awake. She responded that she didn't know, all she knew was that I had veered from my routine.

After probing deeper, she told me that I have a morning routine.

"When the alarm goes off you make this growly sound in the back of your throat and then when I shut it off, you give me a good morning peck and get up. You turn on that soft light by your side of the bed and then you take off your pajama top followed by your bottoms and fold them up and put them on the chair. And then you go to take a shower."

I asked her if this was her little private morning peep show. She said that well, yes, she supposed it was and so the fuck what?

I told her that this was kind of creepy (I was teasing) and she said that no, it was only creepy if she was the next door neighbor....

So, I got dressed for work and I left first because I had an early morning meeting. Bing would drop Liv off at school. It was trash day, so Bing handed me the trash bag to throw in the can in the garage....

I was half way to work when the phone rang.

It was Bing. She said that she had a question. She had found another little bag of trash to put out and when she went to take it out to the garage, she could not find the bag of trash in the can that I had taken.

I glanced at the seat next to me.

So that is what that sort of odd smell was.....

I didn't want to admit that I had FORGOTTEN to put it in the big can, so I said something totally lame like, "Well, it will turn up."

Silence. A beat.

And then she said, incredulously...."Honey. It isn't a lost sock in the dryer. IT IS OUR TRASH."

So, I had to admit to her that I had forgotten to put the trash in the can, just as I had forgotten to take off my pajama bottoms this morning. I said that I would put it in the trash at work. No big deal.

"Are you sure you are feeling okay?" she asked. "Is your blood sugar okay?"

I breathed hard out of my nose like a horse.

"GOOD FUCKING HELL, BING! I am allowed to have ONE freakin' forgetful morning. Give me a break."

She laughed. That smirky laugh. The one that means you are so cute when you're mad.

Later that morning, she called me again. Just checking, she said. Did I recognize her voice or was my early onset Alzheimers setting in?

"I'm your smokin' hot wench girlfriend," she said. "Remember me? The one who makes you forget your name in bed? The one who never forgets your birthday? The one who always has minty fresh breath and is the reason you want to wake up every morning?"

"Hmmm...," I said. "Is your name Laura Linney? Because now THAT name is sort of making me go all weak kneed. Or...maybe...Snape? Is your name Snape?" (Shut up. I proudly admit that I have had a crush on him through all the Potter books. I don't care. I always like the challenging boys.)

Bing laughed. Told me that she would try to come home early so that we could watch Big Bang Theory together.

"Unless you forget it's on....."

So....what is the stupidest thing you have forgotten to do or not do?

The good, the bad, and the ugly

Would you believe that I had never seen that movie before? Never seen Clint Eastwood look quite so sexy as he is in The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly. And I LOVED the entire movie.

The good thing is that if my rheumatoid arthritis (RA) was not acting up, I would have never sat down to watch this, would have been running around getting Liv's Christmas gifts to send down to Denver for her Christmas with her father. Instead, having my knee swollen up to the size of a grapefruit made me sit down and take it easy. Bing found a movie and we watched it.

Liv's gifts this year are pretty simple. We never go overboard with her, my friends from Chicago, Vince and Thuan, do that for us. She gets one big gift from us and two smaller ones. This year, she has requested a new telescope for our backyard. Last year, we bought her a bat house and that was a GREAT idea. So, we bought the telescope and that will be her big gift. She also requested the new Smithsonian Natural History book and we got that for her small gift. We also bought her some fancy strings for her violin. I will mail all of those to Denver when I can. Her father is buying her a new skateboard and my sisters will get her various girly girl things (a new purse, frilly hair bobs, etc.) that will sit in her dresser and never be used. Liv is not a fussy, frilly child. She is...a Hermione Granger type, practical, logical, scientific. One of her favorite toys that is leftover from childhood is an abacus that we bought for her when she was in kindergarten. It still sits in her bedroom. Vince and Thuan will buy her something outrageous (one of their gifts to her several years ago was a fancy treehouse and they even paid to have it installed!) so we shall see.

But, I am sitting here telling myself that I must count my blessings. I have been so depressed lately over this knee of mine. I DETEST using my cane, hate waking up in so much pain every morning...but you know, there are small blessings associated with anything.

SO...

The GOOD parts of having a knee the size of a grapefruit are:

1) Leg rubs from Bing. She and I sprawled on our bed, me on my belly, she perched next to me, kneading and caressing my calves that ache badly from limping around. We talk and share bits and pieces of our week that otherwise go unnoticed or said. She makes me laugh by saying things like, "You know, I think grotesquely swollen knees are sort of orgasmically sexy. Nothing like a limping woman to show the world what true hotness is...."

2) Getting to pick Sunday dinner and know that Bing will make it without grousing because I have a swollen up knee. I picked spare ribs with the bbq sauce that I like: sweet and heavy and not the vinegary slop sauce that she prefers.

3) The joy of laying on the sofa with Bing or Liv or both and watching whole movies because I can't get up easily to do anything else.

4) Someone else takes the dog for his walks.

5) Chores go out the window until I feel better.

6) It has not snowed much yet. No worries about navigating ice with the cane. Well, not yet. Fingers crossed. I could do without a white Christmas and be just peachy, thanks.


The bad part of having a knee the size of a grapefruit

1) It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. Walking is not fun.

2) Having to go to work and have everyone ask me over and over why I am using a cane. And then having to say that I have RA. I have considered lying and saying that I tripped and fell on my sprint to the getaway car after robbing a 7-11. Anything to make me look glamorous rather than pitiful.

3) Chores go out the window until I feel better.

4) Alternating ice packs and heat packs. I don't mind the heat, but I hate those ice packs. I'm already shivery and then putting an ice pack on my bare leg almost makes it worse. And you know, I am not convinced that it helps, I'm really not.

5) My whole body is messed up when RA strikes. I walk with a limp now, so at the end of the day, my calves and back ache from all that lurching around. I feel frail and fragile and that makes me feel helpless which makes me feel sad which makes me depressed.

And the ugly...

Ugh. Just the whole package that is me these days. I don't feel remotely attractive, I feel like I am about 80 years old. I have to use a cane everywhere and I end up glaring at it from wherever I am sitting. I suppose I could fancy it up a bit, decorate it, but I just don't want to even emotionally invest in it even that much.

And I apologize for not getting to all of your blogs to catch up...sitting at the computer is at a minimum for me for a while. So...sorry, sorry, sorry. Truly. I know exactly what I am missing.

So, sitting here drinking my cherry juice and thinking good thoughts for all of you. I hope your month is going well.