Okay, which one of you came to my blog searching for:
"mommy and dog sex"
I have one thing to say to you, and you know who you are...
(And sorry to disappoint you).
Don't come back now, 'ya hear?
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Okay, which one of you came to my blog searching for:
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Dinnertime at the MM household:
Me in the kitchen, a glass of wine in hand following an afternoon of "blah, blah, blah, ice cream, blah, blah, blah, pokemon, blah, blah, blah, shorts from abercombrie&fitch, blah, blah, blah, has more pokemons than me, blah, blah, blah, has a cell phone, blah, blah, blah, how come I don't have a cell phone)
Me: "J, M, dinner's ready."
Them: (chirp, chirp)
Me: "J, M, dinner's ready."
Them: (chirp, chirp)
Me: "J, M, your dinners are getting cold. Come down, NOW."
M: "Just a second."
Me: "Come down and wash your hands."
J: "Wha'd you say?"
Me: (aaaargh) Dinner! NOW. Come down and wash your hands.
J: "whaAAT! AVATAR'S NOT FINISHED YET. IT HAS TO FINISH FIRST! YOU NEVER LET ME WATCH AVATAR! ALL MY FRIENDS GET TO WATCH AVATAR! THIS IS SOOOO UNFAIR. WHAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!"
Me: "GET YOUR BUTT DOWN HERE NOW OR I'LL SHOW YOU WHO'LL NEVER GET TO WATCH AVATAR!"
J: "YOU'RE THE WORST MOM EVER!! I HATE YOU!"
Me: "F**k this shit. F**k. F**K!!! How did I get here? I wanna be back in San Francisco. Whaaaaa."
*photo courtesy of google images
Monday, July 28, 2008
- (Sing it with me like the true bitches we are...) I have a new iPhone - na, na, na, na, na. Woo hoo! I'm grateful cause this new baby rocks! Shhhhh, don't tell anyone but now I'm kinda glad I dumped the old geezer in the toilet.
- I'm grateful for crate training (oh yeah).
- I'm grateful for the Gods smiling upon me Saturday night and sending BOTH of my kids to other people's houses for SLEEPOVERS! (That was a first and definitely will NOT be the last.)
- I'm grateful for plumbers who know what the f**k they're doing (the first one didn't graduate plumber's remedial school.)
- I'm grateful for new friends. Lots and lots of amazing new friends. (You know who you are.)
How about you? What are you grateful for this week? Come on, share the zen. I dare you.
Sunday, July 27, 2008
My first post is up today at www.lamomsblog.com!
Unlike Groucho Marx,
I am proud to belong to a club that has me as a member.
Check it out here.
Thursday, July 24, 2008
It's 6am. I'm surrounded by other early risers, sitting on beach chairs, blankets or, like me, a sidewalk that reeks faintly of pee.
Homeless people sleep sitting up on metal benches enjoying the last moments of peace before noisy crowds gather at the weekly farmer's market. One man severs the quiet as he pushes a squeaky shopping cart filled with his soiled possessions.
Some of us are listening to headphones, sipping coffee from paper cups, reading the paper, perusing scripts (this is LA). All of us are waiting for the new iPhone.
I am number 9. Numbers 1, 2, and 3 arrived at 3am. Last night, we saw the"green light" on Apple's website indicating new phones were in. The man in front of me tells me that if the green light is on it means they have at least 10 phones. So I'm good.
I've come a long way since yesterday when I showed up at 9am thinking I was smart to arrive a good hour before the store's opening. Little did I know that under these trying, iPhone deprived times, the store opened at 8am. Phones were sold out by 8:15.
My saga began over the weekend at BlogHer. I normally keep my phone in my purse but being away from my natural habitat, in noisy ballrooms and conferences, I put my phone in my back pocket on vibrate. During a bathroom break, when the phone hit the water before anything else, I quickly realized this was not a good idea.
I won't bore anyone (too much) by telling you of the depressing and frustrating afternoon that followed as I ran around the city in search of a new iPhone EXCEPT to say that after waiting over an hour at the Apple store the man in front of me purchased the very LAST iPhone in stock. I offered up my desperate story of a mother in a faraway city cut off from the two, young children she loved so dearly (I also flirted and offered up sexual favors) but he opted for the phone instead. I won't bore you (too much) by telling you of the lost night of camaraderie and mayhem (one that I'd looked forward to for months) as I ate room service food alone because I no longer had the phone numbers of new friends and could not fit shoes over my blistered and swollen feet.
So, here I am, days later, my ass on piss-covered cement, a savvy iPhone connoisseur, the early bird who catches the worm. Everyone around me has their own war stories. Two people arrived at stores before sunrise the day before, numbers 26 and 30 on line, to learn upon the store's opening that only 25 phones came in. Justin, the absolutely beautiful guy seated next to me (I coveted this guy's complexion) had camped out overnight in a less desirable part of town for the honor of being one of the first to own the new iPhone. A few days ago, someone stole it.
All of a sudden my saga lost it's edge. Like going to an Ivy League school after graduating valedictorian only to swim in a huge sea of other valedictorians.
Joggers, business people, police took pity on us, were curious about us. One even thought we were part of a movie shoot (I said this was LA). Annoying people joined the line breaking our sense of community (however temporary). A chain smoker accosted our fragile morning senses, a man continuously cracked the silence by scolding his (not too) wayward Yorkie.
By 7:30am, over a hundred people lined up. The empty streets were now peppered with people on their way to work and Starbucks. The homeless were camouflaged by business suits, bicycles, and laptops.
Apple was gracious as they handed out bottled water, gave friendly advice, and made an inconvenient situation tolerable, even enjoyable.
By 10:30am, I had my new iPhone synced up and ready to go. My contacts, calendar, music, podcasts - everything - was once again portable and in my hot little hand.
I felt like me again.
*I would have shown you my own pictures of this morning's adventure but I took them on my temporary phone and once the iPhone was activated I could no longer transfer them. Oh well, small price to pay.
**photos courtesy of Google Images
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
I've been remiss in writing about all the wonderful people I met at BlogHer. Partly, because I've been consumed with getting a new Iphone (I got one!)and with fixing my damn email problems. And partly because I don't want to add to the already annoyingly voluminous posts on the same subject.
I MUST give a shout-out to some lovely ladies who helped make my first BlogHer an incredible experience.
I met so many (I have over 100 business cards to prove it) so I will only mention some of the gals I hung out with:
A MOM TWO BOYS (I love you. I saved your drunk-dialed phone message on my phone cause it was just so DAMN SWEET). We must get together to drink wine - lots and lots of wine. You are such a cutie-pie even if you are 17 years younger (ouch!)
HEADLESS MOM - You are a blast and I totally dug your "business card". Too bad the puppy got a hold of it. Loved hanging out with you, wish I could have done it more, damn Iphone...
MOMMY BITS - What can I say, you and I are a good team - we could part the Red Sea if alcohol was involved. And who else can I thank for posting my Iphone debacle on twitter. I'll be famous forevah!
ANDREA'S SWEET LIFE - You were so much fun to hang with and you seriously have the cutest glasses and the BESTEST hair.
BYJANE - Dahling, it was soooo good to finally meet you. We must get together when you've settled in - BEVERLY HILLS, perhaps????
MOTHERSCRIBE - Babe, you are so nice, not to mention a looker. Not only are you beautiful but you write erotic poetry - a guy's dream! And those fishnets, ooh, those fishnets...
AMY IN OHIO - I have your card and I will DEFINITELY NEVER forget you. You are a ton o' fun.
NO WATCH ME! - Glad I spent the evening with you. You trusted me to choose your lip gloss. That means SO MUCH to me.
SAVVYAUNTIE - a long lost sister of the East Coast (including Canada) kind. Who else would I let share my room?
in Jerusalem at BlogHer (or sooner in Vegas - huh, huh?)
stolen from courtesy of A Mom Two Boys' flicker stream. (I would have uploaded more but my computer didn't cooperate)
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
I told no one about this while I was there because I was still licking my wounds, but here, in the "anonymity" of the internet, I'm ready to share. Believe me, those of you who were feeling sorry for yourselves for not attending BlogHer, you can take a small consolation in knowing that you did NOT want to be in my shoes that day.
Thursday, July 17. A day I'd looked forward to for months. A day that was to be the beginning of my "wild, non-mommy extravaganza".
It all started well. The cab picked me up on time. There was no traffic to the airport. I even had a coupon. The driver dropped me off at the VirginAmerica terminal, I tipped him and he was gone. I rolled my bags inside and looked for the check-in counters.
They were dark.
Not an employee in the entire terminal.
It was eerie.
A maintenance employee informed me that I was dropped at VirginATLANTIC terminal, not VirginAMERICA. VirginAMERICA was four terminals down and a terminally late shuttle ride away.
When I finally boarded the plane, I was rushed, harried, and in a sweat. I stopped to take my seat in Row 5 but on it lay some Seventh Day Adventist literature and a large, take out cup of Diet Coke wedged into the netting of the seat pocket. I asked the woman sitting in the middle if the items were hers.
"No," she said.
"Do you know whose they are?" I pushed.
"No," she turned back to her texting.
I picked up the soda and the reading material and put them in the aisle seat and pocket across from me. In my state, all I wanted to do was sit down and settle in. I wanted it to be someone else's problem.
Minutes later it was. While getting into her seat, a woman knocked into the Diet Coke, spilling the contents onto her and the floor by her feet. She called the flight attendant who quickly came to her aide.
I turned to the women next to me and grimaced, "I feel bad," I said.
I wanted to confess to someone, to appease my guilt. I wanted to explain to her that since she, WHO WAS ALREADY SITTING THERE, didn't know whose stuff it was, I assumed that the airline staff had neglected to pick up the trash. (I usually fly American and for them this would not have been unusual). In hindsight, I should have called an attendant to take the stuff away. (WTF good is hindsight anyway if it always comes after the fact?!)
Irritated at my interruption, the woman put down her cell phone and said, "Excuuuse me?" with such venom and attitude that I thought I must have cut in on some amazingly, hot SMS sex.
"Forget it," I said waving her back to her virtual orgasm. (The bitch actually scared me!)
So there I sat with a possessed Linda Blair on one side and a poor, unfortunate, coke-sodden soul on the other when a man said,
"You're in my seat."
I turned around to find a tall, blond hovering over me.
"No, I'm not," showing him my boarding pass. "I'm in 5F."
"5F is the window, you're in 5C"
He pointed to the diagram above my head. As I was processing that I was indeed in the wrong seat he started yelling, "Where's my Diet Coke? Where's my stuff? WHAT DID YOU DO WITH MY STUFF?"
"It's over there," I answered back, my eyes downcast as I pointed to the wet and sticky woman across the aisle.
I squeezed past Satan with my carry-on, slinked into my window seat, closed my eyes, and tried to block out the world.
I felt like a high school outcast. As if everyone was talking ABOUT me but no one was talking TO me. I ran through the scenario in my head. I used my best take-aways from therapy (and yoga) to consider how to make things right. I didn't care about the hot-tempered man, or the demonic sex fiend, just about the poor woman who now thought badly of me for not confessing to the crime.
I needed to apologize. I had no idea how she would react, I knew it would be embarrassing, but I believed, at the very least, I would earn some good karma with the offer of some genuine mea culpa.
After landing, the tall man searched for his carry-on in the overhead bin.
"Did you move my luggage, too?" he yelled despite the fact I was within sniffing distance of his body odor.
I quietly but definitively replied, "I did not TOUCH your luggage."
The coke-drenched woman pointed the man to his suitcase in the opposite bin.
I sought her out around the baggage carousel, introduced myself and apologized for my bad behavior. I told her I would have confessed but after the man screamed at me, all I wanted to do was crawl under a rock and hide. She was very nice about the whole scenario and it was a good thing because she is a BLOGHER EDITOR.
Can I pick 'em or can I pick 'em?
We shared a cab to the hotel and all became right with the world.
Chalk one up for mid-life wisdom, years of therapy, and a fear of bad karma.
Monday, July 21, 2008
BlogHer bitches, adoring fans, crazed nut jobs , good friends...
NO WORRIES. IT SHOULD BE WORKING NOW. A/O 6PM 7/22. EMAIL AWAY.
If, since just prior to the conference, you have tried to email me at email@example.com...
...well, in addition to my damn iPhone not working, the email is suddenly out of commission, too!!
So, I am not blowing all of you lovelies off, I just don't know that you've written. And if no one has written, well then screw all of you... meanies.
Just know that I am checking the comments section regularly so you can reach me there but I am temporarily unable to read anything sent directly to that email.
Sorry for the inconvenience.
Thank you for your
adoration rejection patience.
Posted by merlotmom at 7:24 PM
Here we are, it's the Monday after BlogHer and I've got the Post BlogHer Blues.
It's like the letdown I felt after my wedding which took 8 months to plan and only a few fleeting hours to enjoy.
It's like the disappointment I feel after I've cooked for hours only to have my kids purge the meal into their napkins and opt for yogurt instead.
I waited so long for BlogHer - looking ahead to a time of learning, camaraderie, revelry and just plain letting it all hang out kinda FUN. Now, in a few short days, wonderful days, it's all behind me. Soon to become only a fond memory.
So, to battle the BlogHer Blues,
I'm going to take a vial full of Prozac and call it a night think about 5 things I'm grateful for this Monday. (See how swiftly I segued into that? I'm so shifty.)
1. I am grateful for having four days to focus on no one else but myself. I felt alive, I felt appreciated, I felt like ME. Yay!
2. I am grateful for meeting such wonderful women - some humorous, many warm, and all blasting the word "stereotype" right out of the dictionary.
3. I am grateful for reuniting with an old friend.
4. I am grateful for coming home to a house with no new pee stains and no more chewed up phone and laptop chargers.
5. I am grateful for my Iphone dropping in the toilet because now I can get the new one. (Not really 'cause it's expensive and there are no new ones for about a week and it sucks 'cause I'm stuck with a cheapo piece-o-shit phone that does nothing compared to my iPhone but I'm trying to look at the bright side SO SHUT IT!)
What are you grateful for?
** AllMediocre.com's Giveaway is starting today. Check it out. Lots of great prizes (and bloggers) over there.
Friday, July 18, 2008
My first guest post is given with honor to, who else, but my husband, heretofore known as Merlot Dad. I felt the least I could do was let him take the helm because, with my absence, I'm sure he's not feeling empowered anywhere else. Welcome to my world, Merlot Dad!
Merlot Mom is at the blogger conference whooping it up, having a grand ol' time, and me, "Merlot Dad" I'm not drinking wine I tell ya, I'm hitting the hard stuff, you know, Mr. Smirnoff and I are becoming close friends.
As I sit here writing, I am yearning for "Mom" to hurry home. I can manage a business, a staff, and challenging clients, but a pre-pubescent daughter, and a cute, but often unruly 8 year old boy, a 4 year old stubborn dog, and a happy-go-lucky-I'll-chew-anything puppy.....well...you get the picture...
Yes, Merlot Mom, you are appreciated.
Come back, please?
MD (not the doctor kind)
Thursday, July 17, 2008
My husband wants to know why I don't fawn over him like I do the dogs - kiss him, hug him, murmur loving words to him, rub his...tummy.
I've given him the spiel about unconditional love, yada, yada, yada, but it shoots in one ear and rockets out the other...
So, my dear hubby, maybe you'll hear it this way...
Ooh, talk to me, baby, yeah, just like this...
Or, if you're having doubts about my theory... see why this dude gets this girl, and this one, and this one...
Now that's what I call foreplay...
graphic courtesy of webweaver.nu/clipart/music/notes.shtml
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
By "maids" I'm referring to the Eagles song off of the Hotel California album. I am in NO way suggesting that you bitches are professional house cleaners, although most of you probably ARE.
All this talk about BlogHer is making me crazy.
I know it's beginning to piss off those of you who aren't going, and I'm sorry about that - both for having to read about it and for the fact that you're not going. Truly.
But, since I am going, the talk is raising my anxiety level (that's just not right, ladies) because I'm reading about how all of you are primping and prepping your little hearts out to the tune of this one who is hairstyling, this one and this one who are shoe buying, this one and this one who are outfit coordinating, not to mention those of you who are mani-pedi-ing, waxing, shaving, and don't even get me started on this one who is fat-sucking (I kid you not, check it out for yourselves), a true original that girl.
I thought single women on dates went to all this trouble so they could get
laid married a free meal. But the ones I'm referring to, and many others that remain nameless (for no reason other than I can't remember who you are and I don't have the patience to go back and search all the damn blogs on my reader), are married - SO WHAT GIVES?
Lest you think I'm criticizing, I am NOT. I like all of you. It's not you - it's me. I'm just not a girly girl. I never joined a sorority, though some of my best friends were members of the tribe. I admittedly never "got" this kind of girl behavior. I'm a bit of a rebel that way, not secure enough I guess to let women judge me and determine if I have value. Not that they don't do it anyway, I just pretend I don't care, is all.
So, I've never before experienced this make-myself-attractive-girl-on-girl frenzy and to be honest, it's kind of FREAKING ME OUT. I mean, unless you're going to try to kiss me (I've heard about some of you huggers), WTF?
So I have a message for all of you ladies... STOP! Please, STOP!
I CAN'T, I DON'T want to keep up. I dress okay. I'm no schlub. But I'm the type who figures out what I'm packing the night before, or even the morning of, and God help me if I don't have what I need 'cause then I'm shit out of luck and have to go with whatever isn't dirty or in need of tailoring.
That's my way and I'm sticking to it. But now my ways are making me think I'm going to show up there and all you guys are gonna be dolled up, well-coordinated, and smelling like fresh rain or tropical flowers, while I'll be my usual eye-make up smeared, t-shirt and jean wearing, smelling like laundry-soap self.
Whatev! Right? Be as I am, yeah, yeah. Okay. I will. But STOP TALKING ABOUT IT so I can be HAPPY about it, WILL YA?
This message was sponsored by merlotmom's high school insecurities
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
I know you're there, I can see you reading...
So why the crickets?
Does my breath smell?
Was it a bad idea?
Does it take too much time to come up with five things you're thankful for?
Is everyone already off the web and in San Francisco?
How about one?
I'll take one thing you're grateful for...
Ladies (and Gents if there are any), come on, don't leave me hangin', you'll feel good afterward, I promise...
Here are the current entries for Give Me the Grateful Life...
Keep 'em coming - Never too late for a little gratitude.
A Mom Two Boys said...
...the warmth of the sun eventhough it sizzles my skin
...my sweet growing children who don't always take us for granted.
...our cute black animals who bring us unconditional love and joy.
...the most understanding, supportive and fun hubby in the whole world
...a positive outlook on everything I do and my wonderful parents who helped me develop it.
Good & Crazy said...
Which is of course easy to do. It's late?
Those aren't the grateful things...
Avocados. 5 of them.
P.S. Original said...
1.I'm grateful for....
my hidden stash of coconut and chocolate chips.
2.That my cholesterol is good enough to keep eating my coconut and chocolate chips.
3. That I can see horses, deer and cows everyday near my house.
4.That my daughter loves her Mama...really, she told me!
5.That my son told me about his tattoo before he showed his Dad.
I'm grateful I am not the only one NOT in San Francisco.
Oh, and chocolate. And cheescake. Definitely cheescake
I think it's a great idea! I just did a list of 100 things that make me happy (over several installments), and I'm grateful for all of those things, too. I'm grateful that I had no trouble coming up with 100!
slouching mom said...
grateful for blueberries
grateful for summer twilights
grateful for central air
grateful for my children
grateful for my health
I'm grateful for... the unconditional love from my animals
I'm grateful for... my health
I'm grateful for... my family and friends
I'm grateful for... a job I love
I'm grateful for... carpet cleaners
I am grateful for coffee. At least twice a day.
- List five things for which you are thankful. (Try to repeat as little as possible each week in an attempt to dig deeper for the often unnoticed things worthy of our appreciation.)
- Post your gratitude list on your blog and make sure to link to merlotmom and credit "Give Me The Grateful Life" in your post.
- Email me a link to your post.
- I will put it on my blog so others can link to you and see how wonderful you are.
May the good karma be with you always.
Monday, July 14, 2008
Someone visited my blog while searching for:
"Mature mom and son enjoys sex"
I don't know whether I should busy myself wondering how they got to me with that search line or worry about what's being done to the poor son...
Posted by merlotmom at 10:12 PM
So, based on your comments, I've scared many of you into NEVER getting a puppy.
This was NOT my intent.
I would love each and every one of you to go out and rescue a puppy, or even better, an older dog.
But I think there is an upside to having shared all this misery with you.
If you are considering bringing a dog into your life, you need to be aware of the good, the bad AND the ugly. A new pet, particularly, a puppy, comes with the whole package.
It had been 13 years since we'd lived with a puppy. We rescued our third dog when she was 3 years old, so she, besides needing to learn how to walk with me rather than drag me down the street at 60mph, blended into our family seamlessly.
We were spoiled...and senile. (Like after childbirth when you swear you won't go through that freak show again only to forget your vagina widened to the completely horrific and unnatural size of a watermelon and you end up WANTING to do it AGAIN. And the fact that your husband even wants to venture back down there after seeing that Nightmare on Wifey Street, is a testament to his
need for SEX love for you.)
Part of this is our fault. Because we didn't get a crate right away. We prided ourselves on having raised three dogs before; we thought we were pros.
Okay, it felt good to get that out.
So, we hired the trainer and now, within a day or two, I can confidently walk the dogs without risk of tripping over them or being dragged into a neighborhood doggie gang bang. We purchased the crate inside which Peanut slept all night without a whimper and allowed us to wake up without any untimely deaths to our socks, underwear, book lights or Pokemon cards (THAT did not go over well with my son - talk about hitting him where it hurts).
So, I hate to speak too soon, to jinx anything, but now that we've been humbled into realizing we need to earn our supremacy over this cute, little ball of energy, I hope that the situation will make a turn for the better.
MORAL OF THE STORY: If you're so inclined, you SHOULD consider ADOPTING a dog because he/she can be an amazing, fun-loving addition to your family (not to mention a way to teach your kids, and sometimes yourselves, responsibility) BUT you must be aware that while it is a lot of fun, it is also a lot of work and it's incumbent upon you to do the work to make living together all it should and could be. These dogs just want to please and they give so much love in return.
So, though I'm sure my carpets will again be doused with unfathomable amounts of disinfectant, and my arm muscles will fatigue from the workout, I want you to know that I LOVE my Peanut despite all the troubles we've had adjusting. I love when she cuddles with me and rests her little, peanut head in my lap. When she moans as I pet her ears. When her scrawny little body takes in entire bowls of food. When she rests her soft, furry body on top of my feet as I sit at the computer. When she learns how to stay, heel, and come. She is a great dog and in time, I know, all will be lovely.
SHHHHHH... both dogs are sleeping at my feet right now. Sooooo cute.
Friday, July 11, 2008
It is Friday, right?
Now where's that wine bottle...
Thursday, July 10, 2008
This post isn't so much for my blogger friends as most of you have already seen it.
It's more for my family and non-blogger friends, to show them that this "blogging thing I do" is more than just a hobby, it's a "big, open highway" of opportunity, or so says Katie Couric.
I knew I liked that woman, and you gotta love her shoes (and the fact that she calls them kicks).
Check out the YouTube video in which she delivers a personal message to us women bloggers. See, we are really somebody's. Somebody's to be reckoned with...GO BLOGGERS!
SEE YOU IN SF!
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
If you're a regular here, you've heard of my recent trials with our new puppy, Peanut: the smelly accidents, the bloody mess, the constant tripping over her as she attaches herself to my thigh...you've been patient, supportive, delivered the appropriate amount of sympathy, so I'll reward your good natures with a story that will make you chuckle.
My son, J, you know, the-one-I-haven't-put-up-for-adoption-despite-his-anger-management-issues-
Well, the other reason I haven't kicked him to the curb is because he makes me laugh. The kid's got talent. Anyway, the other day, he was running around naked before showering and he decided to see what Peanut would do when introduced to a penis. He shimmied and shook his little cocktail weiner to get the dog's attention. I warned him against it but he's stubborn that way. What does Mom know, right? Like chum to a fish, Peanut came runnin'. I watched with one eye open and the rest of my face scrunched. Immediately, Peanut did what all dogs do when encountered with something new.
She sniffed it.
She licked it.
She licked it again.
J stopped laughing.
She licked it again.
J closed his eyes.
J started moaning
"Okay, enough," I said separating the two from their momentary bliss.
For a moment, my son toured a region of the world I was hoping he wouldn't visit AT LEAST until high school (and when he did I was hoping he'd see it with a nice girl named Madison, Hannah, or Lily) .
I guess this is the first of many maternal fantasies crushed by independent-thinking children.
*Thank you to Nanny Goats In Panties (she is every bit as funny as her name) who honored me with my first blogging award, although it's in Spanish and I have to say, despite being an A student in the language, I have no idea what the heck this award is about because the blog is in, yep, you guessed it, Spanish. But I'll take an award anywhere I can get it, so here it is.
Hmmm, any clues? Anyhow, here are the rules for this prestigious kudo:
1) You must choose 5 blogs that you consider deserve this award for creativity, design, interesting material, and contribution to the blogging community, regardless of language.
2) You must publish the name of each award-winning author as well as a link to his or her blog.
3) Each award-winner must post a picture of the award and link back to the blog that has given the award.
4) Both the giver and the recipient of the award must link to the “Arte y Pico” blog, so everyone will know the origin of this award.
5) You must post these rules.Okay, so I hereby bestow this glorious piece of blog bling to the following, most deserving of blogs:
A Mom Two Boys
June Cleaver Nirvana
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
I was tagged by Manic Mommy for a one word meme. These days, one word, is just about all I can handle. Here goes:
1. Where is your cell phone? Fannypack
2. Your significant other? J
3. Your hair? Curlywavy
4. Your mother? Neurotic
5. Your father? Relaxing
6. Your favorite thing? Chocolate
7. Your dream last night? Curious?
8 Your favorite drink? Wine
9. Your dream/goal? Published
10. The room you’re in? Hallway
11. Your hobby? Blogging
12. Your fear? Accidents
13. Where do you want to be in 6 years? Published
14. What you’re not? Disciplined
15. Muffins? Cake
16. One of your wish list items? Laptop
17. Where you grew up? LonG-Island, NY
18. The last thing you did? Eat
19. What are you wearing? Capris
20. Favorite Gadget? Iphone
21. Your pets? Ahhhhh!
22. Your computer? Annoying
23. Your mood? Improved
24. Missing someone? Me
25. Your car? Noisy
26. Something you’re not wearing? Jewelry
27. Favorite store? Fred Segal
28. Like someone? Shouldn't
29. Your favorite color? Green
30. When was the last time you laughed? Sunday
31. Last time you cried? Yesterday
Thanks to Manic Mommy for enabling me a mindless post. I'm still knee-deep in puppy angst so creativity is difficult to come by. After a very looong, non-productive walk this morning, she produced a nice, big gift for me on my family room rug. Oh yes she did. But she's so cute...she's so cute, she's so cute...
And thanks to Manic Mommy for introducing me to AMomTwoBoys, I am now a member of Meghan's not quite illustrious AllMediocre blogroll. Looking forward to meeting other fans of mediocrity - that didn't come out right...
I'm going to tag Nanny Goats in Panties 'cause I need a good laugh and Jan's Sushi Bar 'cause she's on vacation, doing work, and could probably use a good cookie-cutter post.
Posted by merlotmom at 3:00 PM
Monday, July 7, 2008
I think Peanut was an interior designer in her former life because during her short time here, she has already rearranged my house to showcase all of her favorite toys: bones, shoes, balls and stuffed animals. Dirt-smeared "outside" toys have made their way inside and ended up as accessories to my good furniture. Either that, or Peanut makes herself the accessory. Now that's a statement.
We take Peanut for long, exhausting walks teaching her to use other people's yards as her bathroom only to have her mock us by returning home and heading straight outside to pee, pockmarking our once beautiful, green yard with yellow F.U.'s.
We can't swim anymore in our pool because Peanut doesn't think it's safe and she won't stop barking or poking at your head until you agree with her.
We, particularly me, can't walk anywhere in the house alone; can't take a pee, do laundry, walk from the refrigerator to the stove, anything, without the tumor that is Peanut attaching itself to our legs.
We cannot sit in peace for more than a few seconds without having a slobbery ball tossed in our laps, over and over, until we give in or get up to take a shower, whichever comes first.
But the real kicker, the one that made me think, "why did I agree to get a puppy?" was the incident this morning. The one where my kids were late for camp, my husband was somewhere else, and I was on my knees, scrubbing a carpet covered in blood.
Minutes before, I was feeling good. It was 8am and I had returned from a long, vigorous walk with the dogs. Entering the house, Peanut, was her usual chocolate whirling dervish, running from room to room, picking up items and dropping them upon seeing another she fancied. I checked on the kids and as I retraced my steps into the hallway, I saw a flash of red. Then another. And another. A helter skelter of red. Up the stairs, in the bedrooms, in the bathrooms, on the beds, down the stairs, on the floor. My house looked like an opening scene of CSI.
Investigating the source, I found Peanut's toenail scraped down to the blood vessel and as I held it blood gushed out with every pump of her frantic, little, puppy heart. I cleaned and wrapped her paw and surveyed the damage, I was overwhelmed by the state of my I-just-had-it-professionally-cleaned carpet. I cannot treat you to a picture because I-was-too-busy-screaming-and-waking-the-neighbors-and-waiting-for-the-cops-to-come-and-for-them-to- torture-me-until-I-confessed-and-led-them-to-the-location-of-the-dead-body to get my camera.
Once calm, I couldn't figure out where to begin cleaning the mess. Something Anne Lamott once wrote came to mind. In her first book, she recounted her father telling her brother how to distill a huge school project he'd left until the last minute into manageable chunks. He told his son to take it "bird by bird." (As I recall, the project was researching various bird species). So with my rags and carpet cleaner, I got down on my knees and took it bird by bird, stain by stain, until one hour later I'd made it through a few hundred crimson birds.
After an emergency trip to the vet (playing never-ending fetch in the driveway sanded Peanut's nails down to the quick) and the pet store to buy doggie shoe boots, I returned home to resume normalcy and try to salvage what was left of my day before picking up the kids. Peanut resumed following me, dropping balls at my feet, trying to entice me into a slobbery game of fetch. I looked down to tell her no and noticed wherever Peanut went, a staccato trail of blood followed.
Another hour later, hungry, knees aching, my "me" time had vanished behind a damp, veil of bloody rags.
I now sit at my desk, precious Peanut under foot, hoping to have a peaceful remainder of my
day night. All thoughts of writing, errands, and long-awaited manicures firmly shoe-booted from my head.
There's always tomorrow... I mean, who can resist this face...
Saturday, July 5, 2008
It's been a crazy week between the new puppy, the commercial, and now my SIL and her significant other are in town. So I just wanted to post to say thanks to those of you who commented and gave advice regarding the dreaded sex talk. I will take all opinions under advisement.
She told me today she wants to shave her legs, maybe I'll use that as leverage. (Kidding).
Enjoy the rest of your holiday!
Posted by merlotmom at 6:32 PM
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
(see how neat and tidy)
This is merlotmom's kitchen/family room
( also, neat and tidy and note the open floor plan)
This is merlotmom's backyard
(you guessed it, neat and tidy)
Merlotmom keeps her house orderly because
That is, until Hollywood comes a knockin'
Then merlotmom throws her pride to the wind for a few shekels
(and it only improves her procrastination skillz)
This is merlotmom's living room
This is merlotmom's family room
Notice anything different?
That's right, no open floor plan
Where's the kitchen?
Behind the wall, silly
The wall that wasn't there yesterday
The wall that is already gone
It's life was all too brief
Already disposed of in some Hollywood junkyard with other over-the-hill facades
This is merlotmom's backyard
and her deck
Merlotmom is very glad to have her house back
because now she can get down to some serious writing...
...but first she has some straightening up to do