Yay! Summer heat, sunshine and more skin after a long bone chilling bleak Winter. Move over Oprah, here are my favorite things for Summer. My Summer must haves and wants for all to enjoy and desire.
Above ground pool. Awesome, easy blow up ring, fill with water and chemicals plug in the pump and you have paradise in your back yard. Already have a pool? Then do get the inflatable floaty with the high back and cup holder. Also awesome.
Open weave straw cowboy hat with chin strap. The open weave lets the air flow through and you get shade from the brim. The chin strap really isn't all that attractive but it keeps it on my head when I mow on windy days.
Parasol. No joke. An honest to god parasol or light colored umbrella for shade. Yeah, people laugh and stare at first then they just envy you while they stand all sweaty and hot in the blazing sun. I'm prone to heat stroke so the relief of a little portable shade is wonderful.
Fancy lace evening shawl. I like to wrap a lace evening shawl around my hips like a sarong when I wear a swim suit. The fringe is sexy and it makes a statement. Something a little extra instead of the same old over sized T-shirt or terrycloth cover up.
Home made ice tea with fresh mint. No explanation necessary.
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Thursday, May 26, 2011
He has good insurance and I'm still cute
I had one of those mornings where I felt like I should be on high alert. Sure enough the humid swirling winds and the weather alerts were converging to make for a tornado possible day. We live like this here in tornado alley. You just plan your day around where you are going to hide if they form.
We did everything we needed to in the city before the day really heated up. My husband seemed almost disappointed when the weather seemed to just stay ominous and black. I was half hopeful it would be nothing. I was wrong.
While sauteing up some onions , peppers and mushrooms to top the hoagies I made, the sirens shrieked out. I clicked off the stove, grabbed my purse and the dog and scampered down into the storm cellar. That is what rational, clear thinking, sensible people do in tornado alley. Not my husband.
Apparently he is smarter and faster than any tornado. While I hauled myself and poodle underground he dashed outside with the camera. In a moment of testosterone fueled whatthefuckery, he went outside to try and get a photo op with a tornado.
The moments ticked by and the wind outside got more violent, the thunder booms became one continuous churning roll and the volleys of hail more intense against the garage door (our storm shelter is in the garage.) Still no husband. The poodle cowered on my lap and I don't know who was shaking more the dog or myself.
The power went off and with just the small flashlight I waited....no husband. My blood pressure began escalating. My thoughts briefly light on the fact that some tornado deaths are from strokes caused by fear and stress. Then the lights come on again.
"Hey you want some light?" He said cheerfully down the cellar hole. "Is it over?" I asked, hearing my voice break and quaver like a small frightened child. " Yeah, I watched it on TV while I ate my hoagie." He replied.
I sat very close to him on the couch after crawling out of the storm cellar, still shook up and nervous. He thought it would be really fun to take my blood pressure and then his to see who was worse. Mine was elevated but his beats were faster.
It is times like these I'm glad he has good insurance and I'm still cute.
We did everything we needed to in the city before the day really heated up. My husband seemed almost disappointed when the weather seemed to just stay ominous and black. I was half hopeful it would be nothing. I was wrong.
While sauteing up some onions , peppers and mushrooms to top the hoagies I made, the sirens shrieked out. I clicked off the stove, grabbed my purse and the dog and scampered down into the storm cellar. That is what rational, clear thinking, sensible people do in tornado alley. Not my husband.
Apparently he is smarter and faster than any tornado. While I hauled myself and poodle underground he dashed outside with the camera. In a moment of testosterone fueled whatthefuckery, he went outside to try and get a photo op with a tornado.
The moments ticked by and the wind outside got more violent, the thunder booms became one continuous churning roll and the volleys of hail more intense against the garage door (our storm shelter is in the garage.) Still no husband. The poodle cowered on my lap and I don't know who was shaking more the dog or myself.
The power went off and with just the small flashlight I waited....no husband. My blood pressure began escalating. My thoughts briefly light on the fact that some tornado deaths are from strokes caused by fear and stress. Then the lights come on again.
"Hey you want some light?" He said cheerfully down the cellar hole. "Is it over?" I asked, hearing my voice break and quaver like a small frightened child. " Yeah, I watched it on TV while I ate my hoagie." He replied.
I sat very close to him on the couch after crawling out of the storm cellar, still shook up and nervous. He thought it would be really fun to take my blood pressure and then his to see who was worse. Mine was elevated but his beats were faster.
It is times like these I'm glad he has good insurance and I'm still cute.
Friday, May 13, 2011
Magic button
I was doing something really important online (playing online games) when my husband asked me to do him a favor.
Could you sew this button on tighter to these shorts? He asked handing me the shorts.
No. I said. Much to his surprise.
What?! he asked with one eyebrow raised in disapproval and mirth.
You need to buy bigger pants. It isn't a magic button. Sewing it back isn't going to counteract a lifetime of bad choices. I said (while ducking out of reach from the tickling that would be sure to follow for my insolence.)
I wont be baking anymore cookies for you woman! ( The ultimate punishment)
Fine. I said. However, I did sew his button on. (Thus salvaging my cookie privileges.)
Oh thanks hun. He replied and thoughtfully said to the air. Maybe I should eat less cookies too.
Could you sew this button on tighter to these shorts? He asked handing me the shorts.
No. I said. Much to his surprise.
What?! he asked with one eyebrow raised in disapproval and mirth.
You need to buy bigger pants. It isn't a magic button. Sewing it back isn't going to counteract a lifetime of bad choices. I said (while ducking out of reach from the tickling that would be sure to follow for my insolence.)
I wont be baking anymore cookies for you woman! ( The ultimate punishment)
Fine. I said. However, I did sew his button on. (Thus salvaging my cookie privileges.)
Oh thanks hun. He replied and thoughtfully said to the air. Maybe I should eat less cookies too.
Saturday, May 7, 2011
Dreaded Mother's Day
Somewhere in the world there really is a Norman Rockwell family with rosy cheeks gathering around a perfectly coiffed Mom, giving her delightful hand made gifts and breakfast in bed. And everywhere else are a bunch of bitter Mothers who never did get the star treatment they were deluded into expecting come Mothers Day.
Hallmark card commercials and constant barrages of ads for expensive jewelry and flowers raise the sense of entitlement even more. Worse still the pathetic hope that most overworked and underloved Moms harbor on the one day they are supposed to have off. One day...One frikin' day is supposed to make up for the neglect and disappointment that real life has dished out to you because you have a fully functioning vagina. What a gyp.
There ought to be a law that Moms get a mother's weekend every week. I think women in general would be happier and less apt to be bummed out about the weak effort that Mothers Day really is. Moms worldwide would be so content and relaxed that wars would end and all tensions in the universe would recede.
Hallmark card commercials and constant barrages of ads for expensive jewelry and flowers raise the sense of entitlement even more. Worse still the pathetic hope that most overworked and underloved Moms harbor on the one day they are supposed to have off. One day...One frikin' day is supposed to make up for the neglect and disappointment that real life has dished out to you because you have a fully functioning vagina. What a gyp.
There ought to be a law that Moms get a mother's weekend every week. I think women in general would be happier and less apt to be bummed out about the weak effort that Mothers Day really is. Moms worldwide would be so content and relaxed that wars would end and all tensions in the universe would recede.
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