This guy was wonderful. I trust that we may all be worthy of such an obituary one day ... after our reign of terrorizing the pedestrians and other motorists in the vicinity of the WC building.
I can't tell you how many times I laughed to myself this weekend thinking about the pack of us in furs and pearls, cruising Old Town in LoLa's giant Caddy with white leather interior. It's the natural extension of our friendship - from our fabulous single 20s enchanting the cover-song guitarist in Hilton Head, right up through our golden years delighting the staff at our senior living facility.
Monday, March 11, 2013
Friday, March 1, 2013
Twinkle: Let Me See Your Thong Bylaws Amendment
Last night Lola and I had our orientation into our local secret, cultlike swim club. We both showed up in the cover of darkness--Lola in a preppy kelly green and navy ensemble--ready to sign our names in blood, or whatever.
After some light hazing, Lola and I left part of the elect, but I totally forgot to tell her about an exchange I had with a member over modesty issues at the pool.
We were reviewing the club rules (this was right before she made me lie down in the coffin), and she briefly mentioned that swim clothes need to be modest. She said, "We had a thong issue last summer." She went on to say that whoever wore this thong actually fought the club on the issue, because it didn't state anywhere in writing that thongs were verboten. The board changed the bylaws accordingly for this year, and now Mr. Twinkle will have to wear his thong somewhere else.
The funny part is that I think I know who wore the thong. I have nothing to base it on, except I know a certain person who lives on the same street as our dear Fleenor, who runs around in her sports bra all the time, whose Facebook profile pic is her in a Daisy Duke outfit, who owns a certain very popular upscale honkytonk, who stripped her way through law school. And who else but a lawyer is going to question the bylaws? (No offense meant to the Daddy Rabbit attorneys, but come on--y'all know it's true).
I have absolutely nothing to base it on other than this girl's relentless habit of strutting her stuff and the fact that I know attorneys love to have everything in writing, but I feel like this calls for an investigation. I know most of y'all swim there, so just ask around about the thong bylaw change until we get to the "bottom" of this issue.
After some light hazing, Lola and I left part of the elect, but I totally forgot to tell her about an exchange I had with a member over modesty issues at the pool.
We were reviewing the club rules (this was right before she made me lie down in the coffin), and she briefly mentioned that swim clothes need to be modest. She said, "We had a thong issue last summer." She went on to say that whoever wore this thong actually fought the club on the issue, because it didn't state anywhere in writing that thongs were verboten. The board changed the bylaws accordingly for this year, and now Mr. Twinkle will have to wear his thong somewhere else.
The funny part is that I think I know who wore the thong. I have nothing to base it on, except I know a certain person who lives on the same street as our dear Fleenor, who runs around in her sports bra all the time, whose Facebook profile pic is her in a Daisy Duke outfit, who owns a certain very popular upscale honkytonk, who stripped her way through law school. And who else but a lawyer is going to question the bylaws? (No offense meant to the Daddy Rabbit attorneys, but come on--y'all know it's true).
I have absolutely nothing to base it on other than this girl's relentless habit of strutting her stuff and the fact that I know attorneys love to have everything in writing, but I feel like this calls for an investigation. I know most of y'all swim there, so just ask around about the thong bylaw change until we get to the "bottom" of this issue.
Wednesday, February 27, 2013
Saga of the Little Blue Truck
Are y'all familiar with Little Blue Truck? I sure am. I could probably write out every word to the entire story right here and now. The Bear loves that damn book. It showed up at my house around Christmastime, and I've read it at least ten times a week since. Where did it come from? I really couldn't say. It's not like my child didn't have a giant mountain of presents courtesy of his extended family. Maybe it was slack of me, but I opened everything in sight of the gift givers and with no need to write thank you notes, the specifics of who gave my kid which board book were not entered into my mental catalogue.
Why does this matter? Well, it seems Mr-Mama was at our house today, spotted Little Blue Truck, and got worked up. Evidently she was the source of Little Blue Truck, and that book was supposed to stay at HER house. She tried to take it with her, and Mr. J had to beg her to leave it behind given that the Bear is obsessed with it. Now I am supposed to call her and apologize for making off with Little Blue Truck, and promise to buy another copy that can live at her house.
You've got to be kidding me. First of all, it's not like anyone actively stole the damn thing from her house (with the possible exception of the Bear). An extra board book makes its way into the huge pile of gifts I am toting home from her house, and somehow I should have noticed? Second, in light of the giant and ever-increasing pile of garbage she has already bought for him, she balks at replacing Little Blue Truck?
Is it just me or is this drama unreasonable? Mr. J said so himself. In the past couple of weeks (months) she has just been over the edge about every little thing, a veritable font of crazy. There's a pair of new Bandolino boots sitting in the box on the floor of our bedroom because when I tried to ask her about returning them (on the grounds that I don't like to wear flats and don't need another pair of black boots) she got chippy with "that's what they are showing this year" and "everyone is wearing those" and acted like it was a high crime to not want something she bought without asking me first.
I kept the boots for now (what a waste of money - those things are expensive!) because I have been told before to just take her gifts and say thank you even if I don't want them to avoid hurting her feelings. But this is starting to verge on the pathological. I am not going to live my life on pins and needles, keeping every POS she decides to buy me and calling every three days to apologize for something.
I told Mr. J I will "apologize" this time as a favor to him, but don't think this is going to be a habit. Next time his mother acts like a nut, he needs to tell her she's crazy - or at least, he needs to deal with it without my involvement.
Why does this matter? Well, it seems Mr-Mama was at our house today, spotted Little Blue Truck, and got worked up. Evidently she was the source of Little Blue Truck, and that book was supposed to stay at HER house. She tried to take it with her, and Mr. J had to beg her to leave it behind given that the Bear is obsessed with it. Now I am supposed to call her and apologize for making off with Little Blue Truck, and promise to buy another copy that can live at her house.
You've got to be kidding me. First of all, it's not like anyone actively stole the damn thing from her house (with the possible exception of the Bear). An extra board book makes its way into the huge pile of gifts I am toting home from her house, and somehow I should have noticed? Second, in light of the giant and ever-increasing pile of garbage she has already bought for him, she balks at replacing Little Blue Truck?
Is it just me or is this drama unreasonable? Mr. J said so himself. In the past couple of weeks (months) she has just been over the edge about every little thing, a veritable font of crazy. There's a pair of new Bandolino boots sitting in the box on the floor of our bedroom because when I tried to ask her about returning them (on the grounds that I don't like to wear flats and don't need another pair of black boots) she got chippy with "that's what they are showing this year" and "everyone is wearing those" and acted like it was a high crime to not want something she bought without asking me first.
I kept the boots for now (what a waste of money - those things are expensive!) because I have been told before to just take her gifts and say thank you even if I don't want them to avoid hurting her feelings. But this is starting to verge on the pathological. I am not going to live my life on pins and needles, keeping every POS she decides to buy me and calling every three days to apologize for something.
I told Mr. J I will "apologize" this time as a favor to him, but don't think this is going to be a habit. Next time his mother acts like a nut, he needs to tell her she's crazy - or at least, he needs to deal with it without my involvement.
"Senator Hagel Tied to Junior League of Hezbollah"
I think we all know the occasion in which the Junior League of Hezbollah first made an appearance in the U.S. And I believe there is photographic evidence to prove it. But I do not remember Chuck Hagel being there....
Tuesday, February 26, 2013
Twinkle: Speaking of "No Means No..."
I want to get more in-depth about something I touched on the other night, specifically that Fun Sink is always trying to get me to eat desserts. I've noticed for awhile that she's always trying to pressure me into eating the desserts she makes, but I've never thought much about it or noticed that I'm the only one she pressures.
The other day, I brought up to Mr. Twinkle how annoying it is that she's always trying to get me to eat desserts, even after I decline them, and so I guess he was watching that night when the time came for dessert and she gave me the hard sell. Here's how it went down:
Fun Sink: Did you want some ice cream cake?
Me: No, thank you. I'm good for now.
Fun Sink: It's really good. There's chocolate or vanilla ice cream. Let me get you some.
Me: No, really. I'm full from dinner.
Fun Sink: Let me just get you a little piece.
Me: Thanks, maybe I'll get some in a minute.
(A few minutes later)
Fun Sink: Oh, look--E didn't eat much of her ice cream cake. Do you want this? She barely touched it. It was really good.
Me: No, thank you. I don't want any.
Fun Sink: Did you try those brownies Amanda made? They have Heath Bars in them?
Me: That sounds great. I'll get one in a minute.
Fun Sink: Let me get you one now.
(At that point I pretty much had to take a brownie as Amanda was standing right there and I didn't want to be rude, and also I just wanted Fun Sink to shut up about it).
Me (After one tiny bite, which is all I ever really want from dessert): Those are delicious.
Fun Sink: Aren't those good? Are you sure you don't want to try some ice cream cake?
Mr. Twinkle noticed the hard sell and we discussed how she never pressures him, or my father-in-law, or her mother, or my sister-in-law, or my brother-in-law, or any of the grandchildren, or any of the various aunts, uncles, or cousins, to try dessert. Mr. Twinkle pointed out that she'll make four different kinds of dessert and then judge him for actually trying all four. No, when it comes to trying to get people to eat dessert, she only pressures me. Pretty curious.
Also, Grandma-in-Law was showing pictures to A of everyone's recent trip to Connecticut, and Mr. Twinkle heard GMIL saying, "See how much weight Uncle David has lost! Doesn't he look great?" Mr. Twinkle told her flat out to stop it. She does not need to be thinking about weight or knowing what weight is or having the notion that some people might want to change theirs. She's a five-year-old girl, and we're trying not to give her an eating disorder. What is wrong with these people?
On a related note, Uncle David was the one who started this whole family nutritarian trend, and now he and Lindsey are the family standard-bearers for health and wellness. My style isn't so all-or-nothing, which is why, unlike Uncle David, I can take one bite of Amanda's Heath Bar brownie and then not eat the rest of it. It's also why most people don't get annoyed by my eating habits or even pay attention to them at all (my brother-in-law will actually show up at someone's house for a dinner party and bring his own damn salad).
Fun Sink said something to Mr. Twinkle about how he should become a vegan/nutritarian the other day...it's funny how she never gives me the hard sell on that. She also has no idea about the healthy vegan meals we eat at home, because we don't go around shoving it in everyone's face all the time and making it the single way we define ourselves. She loves comparing me side to side with my dour, boring, beige sister-in-law, and knowing that no matter what other good things I may be, I will always come out on the losing end of my SIL's size 0. And that is just mean.
The other day, I brought up to Mr. Twinkle how annoying it is that she's always trying to get me to eat desserts, even after I decline them, and so I guess he was watching that night when the time came for dessert and she gave me the hard sell. Here's how it went down:
Fun Sink: Did you want some ice cream cake?
Me: No, thank you. I'm good for now.
Fun Sink: It's really good. There's chocolate or vanilla ice cream. Let me get you some.
Me: No, really. I'm full from dinner.
Fun Sink: Let me just get you a little piece.
Me: Thanks, maybe I'll get some in a minute.
(A few minutes later)
Fun Sink: Oh, look--E didn't eat much of her ice cream cake. Do you want this? She barely touched it. It was really good.
Me: No, thank you. I don't want any.
Fun Sink: Did you try those brownies Amanda made? They have Heath Bars in them?
Me: That sounds great. I'll get one in a minute.
Fun Sink: Let me get you one now.
(At that point I pretty much had to take a brownie as Amanda was standing right there and I didn't want to be rude, and also I just wanted Fun Sink to shut up about it).
Me (After one tiny bite, which is all I ever really want from dessert): Those are delicious.
Fun Sink: Aren't those good? Are you sure you don't want to try some ice cream cake?
Mr. Twinkle noticed the hard sell and we discussed how she never pressures him, or my father-in-law, or her mother, or my sister-in-law, or my brother-in-law, or any of the grandchildren, or any of the various aunts, uncles, or cousins, to try dessert. Mr. Twinkle pointed out that she'll make four different kinds of dessert and then judge him for actually trying all four. No, when it comes to trying to get people to eat dessert, she only pressures me. Pretty curious.
Also, Grandma-in-Law was showing pictures to A of everyone's recent trip to Connecticut, and Mr. Twinkle heard GMIL saying, "See how much weight Uncle David has lost! Doesn't he look great?" Mr. Twinkle told her flat out to stop it. She does not need to be thinking about weight or knowing what weight is or having the notion that some people might want to change theirs. She's a five-year-old girl, and we're trying not to give her an eating disorder. What is wrong with these people?
On a related note, Uncle David was the one who started this whole family nutritarian trend, and now he and Lindsey are the family standard-bearers for health and wellness. My style isn't so all-or-nothing, which is why, unlike Uncle David, I can take one bite of Amanda's Heath Bar brownie and then not eat the rest of it. It's also why most people don't get annoyed by my eating habits or even pay attention to them at all (my brother-in-law will actually show up at someone's house for a dinner party and bring his own damn salad).
Fun Sink said something to Mr. Twinkle about how he should become a vegan/nutritarian the other day...it's funny how she never gives me the hard sell on that. She also has no idea about the healthy vegan meals we eat at home, because we don't go around shoving it in everyone's face all the time and making it the single way we define ourselves. She loves comparing me side to side with my dour, boring, beige sister-in-law, and knowing that no matter what other good things I may be, I will always come out on the losing end of my SIL's size 0. And that is just mean.
Sunday, February 24, 2013
Twinkle: Mr. Twinkle's Family Food Issues
Mr. Twinkle and I recently had a conversation about his complicated relationship with food. I've always found it odd that he can be self-loathing about the food he's eating, as he's eating it. As in, "I can't believe I'm eating this ice cream. I should not be eating this. But it's so good. But I should not be eating it. But it's so good." There's no enjoyment; only guilt. Meanwhile his mother is constantly baking desserts, but his immediate family goes on these crazy diets where they won't eat anything. There's no pleasure; only guilt. The whole thing is just bizarre. (This article that Mr. Twinks found touches on some of the Jewish social pressures surrounding food, although it doesn't go into the self-loathing issues).
Anyway, tonight we had to get together for some dumb family birthday party, and Aunt Irene was there. She's the one who's always judging Kelly for her mini hotdog consumption. She's a teeny tiny, high-strung little woman. Someone asked her if she wanted a Sister Schubert roll, and she said, "Just a little one. I really shouldn't." Seriously, Aunt Irene...you weigh 90 pounds and you are 80 years old and it is a Sister Schubert roll. Live a little. Don't be ashamed--own the sh!t out of that Sister Schubert roll. Also, it's a Sister Schubert roll, so they're all EXACTLY THE SAME SIZE. SMALL.
Fun Sink was trying to dance around the issue of how they left the birthday party before cake was served. She was trying desperately to explain why the party hostess sent cupcakes (which she thought were much too large) home with the girls. It was hilarious to hear Mr. Twinks press her for details on the cake and watch her evade the question and change the subject. (It's also very telling about the family's complicated relationship with food that it's perfectly normal for him to demand every detail about a birthday cake). She actually didn't want to give the cupcakes to the girls, though! She said, "Do you really want those cupcakes, or do you just want me to throw them away?" No, my friend sent those cupcakes to the girls, so I want the girls to have them. She needn't concern herself about their size; they'll lick some icing off the top and that will be the end of it. No need to pass along the family food issues to them.
Also, I don't eat a lot of sweets, and I'm tired of Fun Sink trying to cram cake down my throat. I seriously think she wants me to be fat. No thanks, Fun Sink. I'm pretty sure all your recipes use Cool Whip, which is an abomination. I'd rather save my calories for wine, thank you very much.
Anyway, tonight we had to get together for some dumb family birthday party, and Aunt Irene was there. She's the one who's always judging Kelly for her mini hotdog consumption. She's a teeny tiny, high-strung little woman. Someone asked her if she wanted a Sister Schubert roll, and she said, "Just a little one. I really shouldn't." Seriously, Aunt Irene...you weigh 90 pounds and you are 80 years old and it is a Sister Schubert roll. Live a little. Don't be ashamed--own the sh!t out of that Sister Schubert roll. Also, it's a Sister Schubert roll, so they're all EXACTLY THE SAME SIZE. SMALL.
Fun Sink was trying to dance around the issue of how they left the birthday party before cake was served. She was trying desperately to explain why the party hostess sent cupcakes (which she thought were much too large) home with the girls. It was hilarious to hear Mr. Twinks press her for details on the cake and watch her evade the question and change the subject. (It's also very telling about the family's complicated relationship with food that it's perfectly normal for him to demand every detail about a birthday cake). She actually didn't want to give the cupcakes to the girls, though! She said, "Do you really want those cupcakes, or do you just want me to throw them away?" No, my friend sent those cupcakes to the girls, so I want the girls to have them. She needn't concern herself about their size; they'll lick some icing off the top and that will be the end of it. No need to pass along the family food issues to them.
Also, I don't eat a lot of sweets, and I'm tired of Fun Sink trying to cram cake down my throat. I seriously think she wants me to be fat. No thanks, Fun Sink. I'm pretty sure all your recipes use Cool Whip, which is an abomination. I'd rather save my calories for wine, thank you very much.
Twinkle: Fun Sink Spurns a Friendly Warning
I've decided to try to be more real with Fun Sink. I'm never going to be the perfect one in her eyes (that dubious distinction goes to my sister-in-law), so instead of pretending I have it together all the time, I'm trying to admit the times when I really don't. I guess I'd hoped for a little realness back from her. But, no.
Last night was my turn to host our supper club. Fun Sink graciously offered to take the girls starting at 3 o'clock in the afternoon, but E had a birthday party and A, a friend of the birthday boy's big sister, was invited, too. Fun Sink said she'd take the girls to the party.
Here's my experience as a mother of three: the hardest situations to handle are when all three girls all going in different directions and wanting to do different things. A restaurant is doable, because everyone's relatively contained. Something with planned activities (games or crafts) is fine because their attention is focused on the same thing, and I can hold baby B, and all's well. A birthday party is usually the worst of the worst with all three of them, because A goes off in one direction and E either goes off in a different direction where she'll need to be supervised, or else decides she needs to be held, which would be fine if B didn't need to be held, too.
I told this to Fun Sink. I begged her to leave B with me and come get her after the party. I straight-up told her that taking all three of them would be "miserable." I used the word miserable. In regards to my children. To Fun Sink. I was trying to be straight with her. She said she'd be fine, and I knew as she walked out the door that she had absolutely no idea what she was getting herself into.
When A was asked about the party this morning, specifically about whether or not Bella was there (because you all know that putting Fun Sink alone in a social setting with Bella's mom could spell disaster), A said they had to leave before Bella got there. A few more questions revealed that they left the party before cake and ice cream. Apparently Fun Sink did not last very long in the setting I described as "miserable," yet when I asked her about the party when she dropped off baby B last night, she didn't mention the early departure and said everything went fine.
I feel bad that the girls didn't get to stay at the party the whole time, but I warned Fun Sink about what she was getting into. If she had taken my advice and left baby B, the big girls could have stayed at the party for the whole time. And even if they did leave early, why couldn't Fun Sink just admit that it was all too much to handle? I know the answer, of course--because not only would she be admitting that she can't handle them in a party setting; she'd also be admitting that I was right about it being too much. And the very worst thing for Fun Sink would probably be for me to know that she knows I was right.
Last night was my turn to host our supper club. Fun Sink graciously offered to take the girls starting at 3 o'clock in the afternoon, but E had a birthday party and A, a friend of the birthday boy's big sister, was invited, too. Fun Sink said she'd take the girls to the party.
Here's my experience as a mother of three: the hardest situations to handle are when all three girls all going in different directions and wanting to do different things. A restaurant is doable, because everyone's relatively contained. Something with planned activities (games or crafts) is fine because their attention is focused on the same thing, and I can hold baby B, and all's well. A birthday party is usually the worst of the worst with all three of them, because A goes off in one direction and E either goes off in a different direction where she'll need to be supervised, or else decides she needs to be held, which would be fine if B didn't need to be held, too.
I told this to Fun Sink. I begged her to leave B with me and come get her after the party. I straight-up told her that taking all three of them would be "miserable." I used the word miserable. In regards to my children. To Fun Sink. I was trying to be straight with her. She said she'd be fine, and I knew as she walked out the door that she had absolutely no idea what she was getting herself into.
When A was asked about the party this morning, specifically about whether or not Bella was there (because you all know that putting Fun Sink alone in a social setting with Bella's mom could spell disaster), A said they had to leave before Bella got there. A few more questions revealed that they left the party before cake and ice cream. Apparently Fun Sink did not last very long in the setting I described as "miserable," yet when I asked her about the party when she dropped off baby B last night, she didn't mention the early departure and said everything went fine.
I feel bad that the girls didn't get to stay at the party the whole time, but I warned Fun Sink about what she was getting into. If she had taken my advice and left baby B, the big girls could have stayed at the party for the whole time. And even if they did leave early, why couldn't Fun Sink just admit that it was all too much to handle? I know the answer, of course--because not only would she be admitting that she can't handle them in a party setting; she'd also be admitting that I was right about it being too much. And the very worst thing for Fun Sink would probably be for me to know that she knows I was right.
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