Thursday, March 30, 2006

Scrambled Eggs

If you have ever wondered what happens when you add a pile of hormones to the brain of a 12 year old, I can tell you the answer. You get scrambled eggs. It is entirely possible that scrambled eggs have a higher IQ than a middle school child. It doesn't matter how smart they have been or how well behaved they have been. They hit puberty and all bets are off. It's kind of like watching molasses drip from a spoon. That's what it looks like when they are thinking. And often, like today, they are not thinking at all. Last week my lovely "forgot" to call and check in before leaving where she was about 20 minutes after I called specifically to remind her to call me. Today, even though being told to exit the passenger side of the vehicle, our neighbor boy opened my driver side rear door into traffic, only to have it bent in such a manner that the whole thing has to be replaced now. I now understand why my parents were always so exasperated looking. I guarantee I did the same stupid stuff.

Monday, March 27, 2006

Birthday Fabulousness

Stay tuned for the photo memories of Edward's first birthday. He will be one tomorrow!

Wednesday, March 22, 2006

Delinquent

I realize that I am severely delinquent (as noted by the title) in "publishing." I have also been told by a couple of people that I have not been very available lately either. I assure all of you that I am not out having enourmous quantities of fun and not including you. What I can tell you is that taxes are done and work has hit an all time high for most nerve shattering. There have been days where were it not for the laughs I get from everyone else's blogs, I would lead a humorless existence. Well, except for the daily Emma-isms, which keep me going. I, however, will soon be living in abject poverty, as I discovered today that they are opening a Hot Topic at the Lincolnwood Mall. I told Scott to lock his money away. That, or buy stock in the Tripp clothing company. The child is obsessed with the chain, zipper, pant things. She already asked if she could go work there. I reminded her that you must be 16 to work. What, is she crazy? Why the hell would you want to start working any sooner than absolutely necessary? I'm constantly trying to figure how to get out of it!

So, as I dragged Emma around the mall today, I began to think of my inner being. Weird, I know, but I think I am secretly a 13 year old skate punk. And I don't think I'm a girl. I really want a pair of Vans and some loose long shorts, a great skateboard and a reason to listen to loud music without having to excuse myself in one way or another, and possibly to be in some bad garage band. I'm not sure what this means, but Emma said her inner child was a seven year old and she didn't know what that meant either. I do know that I am dangerously addicted to cargo pants and hoodies and someone needs to stop me. I can find them in any store. They call to me. Well, those and any shirt with a skull somewhere on it. Yup, I bought one today. You can never have too many "show" shirts. I classify my wardrobe that way, you know. I have therapy clothes (which gratefully are just regular casual clothes , meeting clothes (which are nicer adult clothes), and "show" clothes (because you must look cool when you rock out). Biggest problem here is, I don't think I ever look cool at 41. I think it all has to stop soon. Well,at least the clothes part. OK, that's enough for now.

Wednesday, March 01, 2006

Gas and Go

So, I'm driving down a street in my town heading off to work. I come to a stop light, and with nothing better to do, I survey the scene around me while I wait. I've stopped in front of a gas station and this is where the "what the heck?" occurred. I notice this vehicle pulling away from the pump. What happened next was something I never could have predicted. Apparently the oblivious person driving the vehicle has not noticed that the nozzle from the pump is still in his gas tank. He drives off. The nozzle and hose break free from the pump, whip towards the car and instantly shatter his rear window into a million little pieces. This is when I begin laughing so hard I'm about to pee. He was driving a BIG RED SUV!!!! Ah, Karma.