Honestly, I'm starting to like it warm.

Once upon a time, Big Dude and I remodeled our kitchen. Not remodeled in the sense of "change out the counter tops and buy new cabinet handles,"  but more like "rip out five layers of flooring, 90 years of wallpaper changes, gut the place down to the studs and try not to inhale too much plaster dust."

I was going to post pictures of the demolition and rebuilding, but then you know what would happen, right?  I'd spend two hours looking for pictures, then two hours cussing at the scanner, then decide to do it later, and POOF six months has passed and there's no blog post. So youse guys are just going to have to trust me on this without photographic evidence, kapeesh?

In any case, much as I do with all projects, I made a big ol' wish list of everything I'd want if I could have everything.  That wish list kitchen kicked ass. I miss it. But after whittling it down with budget considerations, I realized the fireman pole had to go, along with the built in espresso machine with wifi so I could email it to make me coffee.

One thing that I decided I could NOT live without, however? A beer fridge. Now, if you enjoy beer as much as I do and of course you don't, you'd understand. If you are a normal person, you call it a "beverage refrigerator."  I decided to justify it with the fact that it could hold pies at Thanksgiving. Obviously, then, it was FOR THE CHILDREN.  My passionate longing for said fridge was exacerbated by the fact that for four long months during the construction, we used an old dorm-sized beer fridge covered with stickers as our only fridge. It sat in the dining room and had to hold beer, food, milk, chicken nuggets, beer. Also beer. And I just wanted to reward myself with a little spreading-out when the project was done.

The little extra fridge just for mommy's beers then turned into a whole wonderful area for mommy. The end of the kitchen had held a tiny sunroom, we took down the walls and I imagined a space with a comfy chair, my own television, a beer fridge and a wine fridge, maybe a plant and some books... I would start dinner and then recline, ever so lady-like with a cocktail while my pots bubbled happily. I knew then, that this area was non-negotiable. Under cabinet bread warmers would be sacrificed, it must be included.

And so it came to be.

On the left, beer fridge. In the center, TV. On the right, wine fridge.  Across the way, girl-sized leather recliner. Ahh.

And it was very good.  I never actually sat in the chair and watched TV while pots bubbled, but a lot of other people did. And after some time, I totally forgot how expensive it is to order a custom-sized beverage refrigerator.

Hmm. Let's have a closer look. What's that next to the recycling bin? A BB gun? Huh. Figures. And what's that indentation on the beautiful fancy recycling bin? Looks to be about the width of a teenager's shoe. No one knows why.

Look! Up above! Mommy's half yard glass. It makes her so happy she almost can forget about the dent in the stainless steel recycling bin.

 So, it wasn't totally my space. That's cool. Other people live here, too. I can't just claim corners all for myself.  At least I still had my sweet little beer fridge, just for me, with a pretty cherry door. I heart you, little beer fridge.

What treats await? Cold frosty barley pops, praytell?

Afterall, Big Dude's beers were not invited to my civilized in-house beer fridge. They could stay out in the garage...in the fridge he'd brought home from work, 10 years ago. Icky.

No pretty stainless steel recycling bin for you, old dumb beer fridge. You can sit under the city-issued purple one, in between the Swiffer mop thing and the dog food. Here, have another ironic sticker.

 But all fairy tales must end, don't they?  Recently, I went to pretty little beer fridge and her stores were less than frosty. Nay, they were oddly lukewarm.

"Gol-darned kids!" I proclaimed. "Messing with my little turny dial! I need this bitch at a 7!"

But she was at 7.

So I turned her to 9.

She sighed and shuddered her last breath.

I wept.

My beautiful, lovely, wonderful, feminine, custom-made, suitable for indoors beer fridge had died.

I don't think I'm being overly dramatic when I say taking warm beers out of her was one of the saddest times of my life.

 Now, as I sit and wait for a repairperson to bring her back to life, which I'm sure will be a completely affordable experience since the warranty has expired and all her parts are custom... I lean on the hood of my car and enjoy a perfectly chilled beer. 

You don't always have to dance with the purtiest girl, I guess.

Okay, okay, I'll give you another sticker. 

Turns out, I've always been sort of an a-hole.

Yeah, I know I've not been here very much, sorry 'bout that. Doesn't seem to have stopped the world from moving forward. Although...there have been some seriously weird weather patterns that can only probably be explained by the lack of me tapping on a keyboard.

Nevertheless.

I was digging through old papers recently looking for something important and instead found a folder from my first semester at college. I was not good looking enough to not get any classes I really wanted, so was stuck in anything that had an opening, including a German class that met at 8:00 AM. Every. Freaking. Day, and a 300 level course called "Science, Technology & Public Policy." It was taught by someone who was most surely a relative of James Earl Jones - either that or his voice coach - because they sounded exactly the same. He made a lot of big bold statements and afterwards would survey the class, looking us each in the eye and say,

"Questions?"

"Comments?"

"Concernnnnns?"

The rest of the class usually had at least a question. The bolder ones had comments. A few would even sometimes come up with a concern. I generally was just trying not to be noticed. Which was difficult, because there were 9 people in that class. Eight of them were over 21 years old, wearing varying layers of tie-dyed global patterns or ironic t shirts with Army surplus cargo shorts, unshaven legs and faces and smelled of patchouli. One of them was 18, had braces, a Duran Duran asymmetrical haircut, excess eyeliner, Esprit overalls, multiple black rubber braceleets and smelled of Love's Babysoft.

In between lectures, Professor James Earl Jones' Brother would assign reading and expect a written evaluation, so in the folder I found several word processor'ed attempts at sounding intelligent, obviously with a great deal of assistance from a thesaurus. And then I found this one - handwritten in class as a quiz.


It would be incredibly difficult to call this book compelling, perhaps even scandalous to use the word "interesting" when describing it. In fact, it would be most appropriate to call Dorothy Nelkins'  Controversy "kindling" rather than "literature." There are many texts in this world that are difficult to trudge through. There are a great number of tomes which do not appeal to anyone. Perhaps Nelkin was raised in a lifeless, loveless library of such volumes, surrounded only by her captors and an occasional visit by a sadistic dentist. In any case, her book sucks. Questions? Comments? Concerns?

And the professor's comment below:

I like you. B+

It was the only class I attended regularly that year.

Reason #458 that my children are not homeschooled.

I'd be tired from training them to kickass in spelling bees and coming up with recipes for my baking blog, so I'd order pizza instead of making the asparagus and salmon I'd planned.

I'd worry that I was going to waste the asparagus and it would get all wilty (although I'd use a word other than wilty because I'd have a thesaurus on the kitchen counter) so I would stick the asparagus in some water overnight.

I'd get up in the morning to find crazy alien asparagus has decided to mutate and I'd change the lesson plan for the day to "Investigations into Creepy Asparagus that Obviously has Intentions to EAT US."

I think we're all better off with someone else handling their education.

Storytime.

Last week I finally admitted that my wee little firstborn who is 6 inches taller than me and many pounds heavier (thankfully) is growing up. So I took the huge step of removing all the picture books from his bookcase.

I could get all sappy right now and tell you that picking up each one of them and remembering his fat little hands with their indented knuckles holding them was one of the hardest things I've ever done...y'know, cleaning-wise.  We read to him every night. Farmer Duck. Cows Can't Fly. Slug. THE CLASSICS.  So moving them into a box was more than just admitting he is closer to adulthood than babyhood. It was saying goodbye to some of the most awesome rhymes ever.

To wit...

"A small girl yelled out, 'Mommy! What's that creeping on our food?' 

She didn't know that Slug was just a hungry little dude."

Beat that, Bob Frost.

And it was heavy. Like really heavy, man. They're books, people. Not like when mommies of today just download Bennett Cerf onto their iPads.

Is Bennett Cerf even available on iPads?  Because it should be! Seriously, if your child doesn't know what is big and red and eats rocks, you are not really a very good parent. Just saying.

Anyway, I spent a couple of days being all nostalgic. I'd go look at his new teen-agery version of a bookcase with it's clever novels and dark comic books and middle school yearbooks and wish that just for a minute, I could have that boy that's shorter than me back.

Then, I got in my car. That smelled like three day old milk left in a sippy cup.

Turns out teenager snowboard boot has exactly the same chemical makeup as curdled dairy product in plastic.

And I longed for short people no more.

Everything that's wrong in the world. A special LOVE edition of LGBG.

I have spent the last 48 hours desperately looking for a letter sent home by a teacher several years ago regarding Valentine's Day so that I could tell the internet about it... I've instead found my birth certificate, my sister's 10th grade report card and an overdue bill from the milk man so I will have to recreate it here for you from memory.

Disclaimer: The teacher was a  lovely woman in every way and a perfectly wonderful, engaging, charming educator.

Disclaimer disclaimer: But obviously had issues.

Disclaimer disclaimer disclaimer: Also, she looks exactly like a waitress at the pub around the corner so every time I go get a beer I remember this story.

It went something like this.



Dear Parents,


As Valentine's Day approaches, I would like you all to talk to your children about being especially careful of other's feelings.  Many children dream about Valentine's Day being a day to express their affection for someone special. Sadly though, other children use it as an opportunity for cruelty! They might purposely avoid giving a Valentine to someone...or even...send a Valentine with a negative message.

(Right about here is when I said, "Huh? Really? Freaking dreaming about it?" "opportunity for cruelty? OPPORTUNITY? For CRUELTY?" Also... do they even make valentines with negative messages? What are they? Scooby Doo looking at Shaggy and saying "Dude, you reek like bong water and van mattress, take a shower, a-hole." I almost crumpled the letter up right there, but I forged ahead. Because I am a good parent.)  

I speak from experience. I remember a particularly horrible Valentine's Day in my own elementary school years when one student had a "crush" on another and when her feelings were not returned by the object of her affection she was teased mercilessly and cried on the playground for an entire recess.

(Hmmm. You seem to remember this in great detail. Almost as if it had happened to someone rather close to you. So, what happened? You brought in homemade cookies and a dozen roses to the math teacher and he told you he was 30? And married? To a dude? Or was it that your evil twin who is now a cocktail waitress around the corner wrote you a mean valentine and read it in front of the class? Something along the lines of "Mommy says I'm the pretty one and you're going to end up alone?")

For that reason, please have your child bring enough valentines for the entire class, and do not put a "to" name on them OR a "from" name. This way, everyone will get equal attention from all members of the class and no feelings will be hurt.


Sincerely,


Your Child's Miserably Lonely to this Day Teacher


And that right there is why the Japanese are getting ahead.

I don't actually know what that means.

But I do know that in 1977 I would've been particularly thankful to have a teacher like this, because instead of an anonymous Holly Hobbie or Mickey Mouse card, I got a creepy big lumpy envelope from a chubby freckled kid. Inside was the kind of card you'd buy your grandmother, all covered in plastic with a photograph of flowers and some gooey poem about love. On the interior, he'd taped an Avon necklace. My stomach hurt for three weeks and I almost quit school. But I didn't make him cry on the playground.

Because I believe in love.

Also recess.

I don't actually know what that means either.

Yearly Recap: 2010.

I'm usually not all quizzy and resolutiony but I am a gigantic stalker fan of Linda at All & Sundry and have enjoyed reading these posts of hers, so I'm fully ripping off the concept. Although to be fair, I'm not really ripping it off since it was her idea for me to do this - she practically begged me to. Or not.

If you care to do it as well, leave me a link in the comments so I can go read yours. If you don't blog, send me an email.


A sidebar - go read Linda's stuff. All her stuff. She writes in a lot of places and she's the kind of writer I imagine that I would be if only I was talented and good with words. And stuff.

Here goes.


1. What did you do in 2010 that you'd never done before?
I got on an airplane and flew three states away to see my child compete in a sporting event. And to think I used to bitch about driving across town.

2. Did you keep your new year's resolutions and will you make more for next year?
I like to keep my resolutions completely immeasurable so that I can't judge myself. One year it was "Become more gracious." Last year it was "Stop interrupting people even if what I have to say is really funny." I think I did okay.  For 2011?  Maybe something about making sure that people I love know I do. Either that, or I may try switching to light beer. "A moment on the lips..." and all that.

3. Did anyone close to you give birth?

OMG, YES. My wonderful newest sister in law had Alexander in October. And it's practically like he's MINE, because a) it was completely my idea that she date my husband's brother, and b) the baby looks exactly like my husband. Which is nice for him since our children do not.


4. Did anyone close to you die?

I, very gratefully, did not attend any memorial services or funerals in 2010. Although, my husband lost a favorite uncle, my son's friend lost his dad. There was sadness to be sure, but less than years past.

5. What countries did you visit?
Well, dammit, none except this one I live in.

6. What would you like to have in 2011 that you lacked in 2010?
A winning lottery ticket worth more than $5.  Focus.  A full night's sleep. Time on the front porch with a book, a bulldog, a beer.

7. What dates from 2010 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?
There isn't a single day that stands out. Although this is the year my cute little boy became taller than I am, the year I stopped caring if the house was perfect all of the time, the year I got brave enough to wear accessories and skinny jeans.

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?

 Hmmmm. I maybe need to work on achieving things.

9. What was your biggest failure?
I registered for school and didn't do anything about it. Nothing. I guess you can't fail what you don't even attempt, right? Right? Mr. Freud, are you even listening?

10. Did you suffer illness or injury?
Well, I drilled a wood screw through my thumb. I smashed my face into a VCR at mach-3 and broke my nose. I fell down the stairs a couple of times. Just the normal shit.

11. What was the best thing you bought?
I sent my husband to motorcycle racing school, helping to fulfill a lifelong dream of his and pretty much insuring that at some point he's going to buy a racing bike and we'll need a bigger garage.  Also, after years of driving his hand-me-down but very cute little pickup, I picked out and purchased a car that I am totally and completely in love with and will be driving when I am a grandmother. Which hopefully is many many years from now.

12. Where did most of your money go?
Mortgage. Bulldog nuggets. Youth sports registrations.

13. What did you get really excited about?
Excited in a good way or bad? Because I spent the greater part of the year being pissed off at something I had no control over. As far as a positive type of excited - It was exciting to see older son be passionate and successful in rowing.  It was great seeing his fire ignited by something that I love. Live vicariously much? Be quiet.

14. What song will always remind you of 2010?
There's a bunch, but probably Not Afraid by Eminem. For many reasons, not the least of which being my 10 year old sings it while he does his math homework. The non-explicit version, should you be assessing my parenting skills.

15. Compared to this time last year, are you:

– happier or sadder? Happier.
– thinner or fatter? Thinner, but it was water weight. Or something.
– richer or poorer? About the same. Which is certainly nothing to bitch about.

16. What do you wish you’d done more of?

Read. Written. Travelled. Painted the dining room. Danced with my cowboy.

17. What do you wish you’d done less of?

Harboring ill will towards persons with poor design skills.

18. What was your favorite TV program?
I don't watch enough TV. Really. I rarely hold the remote, and when I do there's nothing on anyway. I'm pretty sure I'm missing out on a whole bunch of amazing programming if I could only spend more time on it.  Reruns of The Office amuse me, however, and are fortunately on at any given time of the day.

19. What were your favorite books of the year?
Oh golly. Let's see. Shop Class as Soulcraft. The Art of Racing in the Rain. Girl with a Pearl Earring. In 50 Years We'll All Be Chicks. The Beauty of Different.

21. What was your favorite music from this year?

I renewed an old affair with Social Distortion and played around on the side with Weezer, Fountains of Wayne, Cake and my old favorite Merle Haggard.

22. What were your favorite films of the year?
So, "films." I'm not good at "films." I don't even see regular old movies all that much. If I get out of the house, I like live music or a football game on a big screen where someone else has to fetch the nachos. Lame, I know.

23. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?
Well, according to GoogleCalendar, I went to work, then skipped out at 11 for a private Pilates session, then meandered down the street to have lunch with my oldest friend Harvard Barbie. And by oldest, I mean I've known her longer than everyone else, not that she's the oldest person I know. (See? If I was a better writer I wouldn't have had to do that whole explaining thing right there. I would've said, "best friend from childhood" or "homey" or something.) After that, I had a meeting with Lingerie Barbie and then came home to my darling family and no doubt drove someone to baseball practice.

24. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?
My first response is immediately "money" because then I would have about 50 hours more a week to do whatever I wanted. But I'd probably just end up doing laundry or something boring, so it's best that I'm otherwise occupied during the day. I think satisfaction comes from not wanting for things (pretty sure I got that from Mick Jagger) but I really don't desire anything other than time with my nice husband, cool kids and good friends. I should have used all my vacation time, though.


25. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2010?
Boots. And anything that goes with boots. Summer was hard on me, obviously.

26. What kept you sane?
It sort of sounds ridiculous, but Facebook. It's a lifeline to people who remember me differently than who I am today. I know people who avoid those reminders, but I like having contact with people that represent different little slices of my history. I talk to a 29 year old History professor whose diapers I changed when I was in High School. I talk to a college room mate. I talk to my dad's cousins and my son's friends. It's interesting.

26. Share a valuable lesson you learned in 2010.
No one is worried about what I think of them. They're just not. It's a waste of time worrying about what they think of me.

Fast and thorough and sharp as a tack.

While some people take inspiration from poetry or speeches, operas or beautiful landscapes, biblical passages or literature, I make all of the important decisions necessary to run my entire life on the principles set forth in the Cake song, Short Skirt Long Jacket.

It's a good strategy.

Can't decide what to wear? Got that one covered. Just add shoes that cut.

What type of vehicle should I get? One with a cupholder armrest that gets me there.

How should I get ahead at work? Tour the facilities and pick up slack.

How many hours sleep should I get?  Get up early. Stay up late.

See? It can be life altering if only you open your mind to its wisdom.

Because I wasn't intelligent enough to write this blog anonymously, I am often muzzled in what I can share here. And I realize you probably don't really want to come here to hear me whine anyway.

So, suffice it to say, there are several - nay - three - highly annoying situations in my life that are causing Little Girl to fill Big Glasses with whiskey and Pepsi.  However, I'm working on immediate solutions... because why?

My fingernails shine like justice and I'm using a machete to cut through red tape.

And when that's all done - I'll be back with some funny stories about weird people I grew up with. Because I'm not anonymous so they shouldn't be either.