Earth Day

As we were driving home last night, I mentioned to Michael that I needed to call my Mom and wish her a Happy Birthday.

Michael: Wish her a Happy Earth Day from me too.

Me: Did you just say Earth Day?

Michael: Uhhhhhhh...I guess I did. Your Mom is as old as the Earth. So please wish her a Happy Earth Day.

Me: (In between laughter) I promise not to tell her you just said that.

We know you aren't as old as the Earth, Mom. And yes, I punched your darling son-in-law for you!

Thank you for being my mom

Today is the birthday of my fabulous mother, so it only seemed appropriate that I devote this posting to her. She has taught me many things over my 36 years and although I haven't listened well to all of them, they may pose useful to others. I list these in no particular order, or by success factor, so don't be upset with me if you take this secondhand advice and get yourself in trouble. Go ahead and blame my mother; that's what I would do.

Things I learned from my mother:

• You should only buy or have your husband buy you expensive jewelry. You can borrow the cheap trinkets from your friends, but they never want to lend the good stuff.
  
• Only shave your legs from the knee down. It saves time and no one will notice, especially if you are blonde.
• It is just as easy to marry a rich man, as a poor man. (None of us girls followed this nugget of knowledge very well.)
• If you don't know the word for something, it is just fine to make one up.
  
• It's important to learn how to read; do it well and do it often. It's even better if you enjoy it.
  
• It is still ok to eat the cheese curds if the cat chews through the bag and only eats one or two.
  
• When drinking Merlot and you don't care for the taste, there is no need to confront the waiter and send it back. Simply make the noise "Akkk, akkk, akkk" quite loudly and the waiter will get the point.
  
• As long as you are describing something cute and have no malicious intentions, you can use stereotypical terms like jigaboo and pickaninny without being a racist.
  
• Go ahead and cheat at Scrabble. (Just don't do it while playing with me. I will make you cry.)
  
• Food can survive in the freezer...indefinitely.
• You are never too old to have fun with your kids, be there for them in times of crisis, and be a good friend to them as adults.
• Even if you don't "really" love all of your kids equally, pretend that you do, and they will grow up to be fine adults and thank you for it everyday.

Happy Birthday Mom!

Channeling my mother

Today was a long, long day and I was dealing with a tad bit of internal hostility. It was aimed at no one in particular, but was boiling nonetheless. On my way home I cranked the radio and immediately longed for KROQ in LA. There is nothing even comparable here and that makes me sad. Michael has XM so he doesn't feel my pain at all. In the mornings I am fine with NPR, but I require something a bit more volatile after hours to even myself out. There are a couple decent rock stations, but they have a horrible tendency to intermix real music with country and pop crap. But then...a glimmer of hope!

"This next one will help alleviate your angst tonight", says the DJ. "This is the perfect driving song that will get you moving and will make you right again". My faith in this station is momentarily renewed. Driving - YES. Angst - YES. Need for calm - YES. Thank you, thank you. And then SHE comes on the radio. Instead of something raging like Green Day or the Offspring. Instead of something quirky like Sarah Borges or Duffy. Instead of almost ANYTHING else or anyone else, that stupid DJ is referring to Miley Cyrus and her idiotic yet painfully catching song "7 Things I Hate About You". Oh yes, I can name a hell of a lot more than seven at this moment. I am not some silly 12-year old needing to get over my crush on the Jonas Brothers. I shouldn't even know who Miley Cyrus and the Jonas Brothers are! Oh for freaking sakes that song is in my head.

So now I am headed to the market more annoyed than ever and that is not a proper recipe for success. I had full intentions of an actual shopping trip and instead grabbed enough food for dinner and things to alleviate my immediate vices. And here is where I channeled my mother. I didn't even make it through the parking lot before I ripped the bag of Twizzlers open and consumed two pieces. Feeling a little better. The bag rode next to me during the 5 minute drive home and I probably ate 5 more. Two more putting the groceries away and now I am sane again. I even considered hiding the bag from Michael so that I didn't have to share. My mother would be proud. A woman always needs to have her own emergency money, a place to run, and a stash of sweets.

In order to balance the universe I threw out an almost new, slightly used Ziploc bag instead of rinsing it out and reusing. I then took everything out of the fridge that might expire in the next two days and tossed that. And just for good measure, I found a perfectly good yogurt and threw out that too.

A good wholesome gay-themed weekend

"Ladies, Take the Yard!" was the battle cry of the evening at Saturday's garden party Drag Bingo. If it were at all possible, I would claim that it was even more hot and humid than the previous version. This of course meant that a good queen needed to choose the shortest and most transparent dress in the closet. Quite delightful on the hairier ones. Nonetheless bingo was fun, the drag queens were hilarious (although melting), and we had another great night raising money for the Alliance of AIDS Services - Carolina.


The gayness just didn't stop there. Oh no. Michael coincidentally needed a gardening hat, as we planned to start clearing the jungle that is masquerading as our new front yard. We were told that the previous owner liked her flowers. OOOO-K. Liking them and leaving them to grow to such monstrous dimensions that they can consume small children and animals, are entirely different things. If anyone in the neighborhood is missing someone, they should check our front hedges first. On Sunday we literally hacked away a 3x6 section of rosemary away from the front porch and filled 3 bins with other various pieces of lawn debris. We barely made a dent in the foliage.

Oh yes, I forgot to mention that Michael wore his new gardening hat that afternoon. I think he looks adorable in it, but he also resembles a darling gay cowboy. I wanted him to wear it during our walk with Iona later that night, but he was concerned that we're already confusing the neighbors. Man with earrings, couple with no kids, California license plates...the Southern lynching could begin at any minute. Best we not speed up the process with the gay cowboy stuff.

Since it was damn hot in the urban jungle, I tied one of his bandannas around my head. Of course that prompted him to reciprocate the name calling, "You look like Aunt Jemima", he yelled across the yard. Uh yeah...thanks Brokeback. For those that haven't seen me recently, you can rest easily that I haven't changed that much.

We'll be back in our alter-ego states later this week when the city empties out our bins. You will find Gay Cowboy and Aunt Jemima up on the porch with sharp tools in hand, waiting for the head Drag Queen to yell, "Ladies, TAKE THE YARD!".