This Just Sucks

I am experiencing generalized-grouchiness NOS (not otherwise specified). I do not like being bitchy because bitchy people get on my nerves. Conseqently, I am currently annoying myself due to my acute condition. The aforementioned condition is exacerbated by non-functioning, brand new dishwashers, Diet Mike's Hard Lemonade (I should have bought the real stuff), and no outfit in the works for tomorrow.

My current state is also idiopathic. I haven't had a bad day, tomorrow is Friday, and I dropped off an entire trunk-full of recycling. No one was rude to me, I had snuggle time with both the kiddies, and I found some more friends on facebook. I had plenty to eat for supper (which I cooked, thank you very much), our internet connection is lightning fast tonight, and I didn't have to iron this morning.

Despite today's goodness, I am an irritated/irritating mess. The pediatric form of this disorder is called bratiness. The term for the adult form was coined by my esteemed colleage RPh Mommy of Can I Get My Subscription Filled?, it is called asshatiness, and I have it. Thank goodness that tomorr-uh is uh-notha day.

R.M.D.

Redneck Moment of the Day:

Kountry Kroger Employee announcing sale items over the store's intercom:

"...and if you really wanna get fancy, then try our fill-ay minn-yawn..."

Awwwwwww!

This weekend, JBB was hugging Pretty Girl and playing with her hair. He said, "Mommy, can we have another baby that looks just like Pretty Girl so we can take care of her too?" That's so sweet! But, no. I am as fixed as a dog from the pound.

So, let's talk birth control. Who does the pill, nothing, rhythm, patch, IUD? Is anyone paranoid enough to use multiple methods? I do, because we are not having any kind of Father of the Bride Part II at Lipstick Manor.

Of course, there's the whole vasectomy issue. Mr. Lipstick cringed and moaned and very nearly had a tantrum at the mention. I didn't get grouchy about it, because I was having a C-section anyway and the snip-snip was no big deal, except that Pretty Girl was born at a Catholic hospital and I had to be wheeled into a surgery suite that the hospital didn't own so that said snip-snip could occur. This was intriguing to me, because I have Cathoholism (definition: a persistent fascination with all things Catholic).

Later in the day, JBB said, "Mommy, can we please have twins so we can take care of both of them?" Awwwwwww! But, no.

Truth or Vanity

I am home from a fabulous weekend of visiting with The Captain's Wife and Candlelight. We stayed up soooo late on Saturday night, sitting in Candlelight's FANCY new kitchen, and giggling til we cried.Yes, this really is her kitchen. It looks like a stock photo from some magazine, but oh no, I have seen it and it is real.

We had to discuss some pertinent celeb issues. Of course, there was the convo about Brangelina/Jennifer Aniston/John Mayer. We talk like we know these people. We don't.

We are unanimous in our feeling that Owen Wilson is very sexy, but only 1/3 in favor of Vince Vaughn. Have you seen that pic of Nicole Kidman in People where she's wearing white jeans and a little white shirt? She doesn't look like she was ever pregnant. We wonder if was all an obstetrical hoax. We also think that Katie Holmes looks terrible with her short hair, massive glasses, and even bigger Hermes bags; her Scientolo-gaze is just creepy.

We had a massive breakfast, went swimming, chased kids, laughed a whole bunch more, and even set up their blogs (yee-ha! links to come). We even got gussied up to take this picture:
While we were getting dressed, Candlelight stumbled on a skirt that she wore back in 1994. She saved it because she had paid full price for it at the Gap and is pretty sentimental about it. It was so tiny. Candlelight looked at the size:Yep, that's a size 6. I immediately yanked off my Gap skirt to see the size and voila! Size 4.Now lest you think that I am this tiny in real life, here they are by comparison:Can you believe this vanity sizing? No wonder there are double zeros now! What's next...negative numbers? Is America the only country in which you can gain twenty pounds and go down a size?

And finally some housekeeping notes...my mother told her dear friend from church about my blog. I'll call her Mrs. Regal because she is tall, beautiful, very chic, has amazing musical talent and impeccable taste. So, if you've found me...welcome Mrs. Regal. AND...if it weren't exciting enough to have a fab weekend and Mrs. Regal reading, my dear friend from high school has started a blog. We reconnected last week at the alumni walk of our dear, about-to-be-destroyed school building. Introducing FlowerGirl She's cool, you're gonna love her.

Six Boxes and Three Sisters

Happy weekend! I thought it would never come, which is ridiculous because I left work early on Monday and was off Tuesday. Why do the short work weeks always seem longer?

Today I have basically two things to do. Well, two fun things and one not-fun thing. There are six plastic totes of memory stuff that Mr. Lipstick brought down from the attic for me. I peeked in the first box and found an old photo album with pictures from high school and a bunch of My Little Pony's. I am thinking all this memory sorting is going to take a. long. time.

Then the kiddies and I are going to visit Candlelight and The Captain's Wife (my two best buds from pharm school). There will be much gossiping and kid chasing and hysterical laughing. It will be a good time had by all.

My non-fun task is washing dishes. A whole kitchen-full of them. Our dishwasher died last week and the new one is almost ready to be installed. Mr. Lipstick got one of those that can hold a wooden front so it looks like one of the cabinet drawers. He built the faux door and it just needs one more coat of paint. Thank goodness, because I do not like this manual dishwashing.

I admit it-I am hooked on my dishwasher. I even put stuff in there that isn't supposed to go in the dishwasher. I have even been told that you are not supposed to put Pyrex in the dishwasher, but I have been putting some mixing bowls that we got as a wedding present (in 1997) in there all this time, and they look good as new. What good is any kind of dish or pot if it can withstand the heat or cold of cooking, but can't survive the dishwasher? I mean, really-who needs such fickle and demanding cookware? Not me. Maybe I am being a bit melodramatic. It hasn't been a huge crisis. I mean, it's not like we lost the internet for a week.

On the Pole

Now I'm just gonna fess up right here at the beginning and tell you that I found this while googling pole dancing. Oh yes, Lipstick is a little naughty. No excuses offered here-I just think it's cool. Don't you judge me!

Actually, pole dancing classes are the hottest thing at all the chic exercise clubs. I think Carmen Electra (or some other famous enough person) even has a video out there. Anyway, Tara Karina has 28 videos on youtube and they are all amazing. She is self-taught, does not wear clear heels, and is gorgeous in a ballerina kind of way.

Watching her makes me think I could actually do this. I start to believe that it really doesn't matter that I'm pretty clumsy. Mr. Lipstick is not for it because he says it is not classy, would take up too much room, and would be too hard to explain to our church friends. I guess I'll just live vicariously through Ms. Karina. After all, Mr. Lipstick is a pretty classy guy. Thanks to him I have no tattoos and our daughter is not named after Adrian Balboa.

Time in a Bottle

I have this watch.

It is so large that Nonna asked me, "how long have you been wearing that clock on your arm?" I still have no sense of time. No internal clock whatsoever.

My visit with The Captain's Wife is already over. It was so much fun. We shopped and ate at The Cheesecake Factory (Melting Pot didn't open 'til 4:30) so we just substituted one chain restaurant gimmick for another.

The thing about my time with The Captain's Wife is that it is never as long as I think it is going to be. I bought these adult beverages to enjoy
and I bought these trashtastic magazines
thinking that we would have time for all that-in between all the taking care of our kids and shopping and laughing and eating and chasing kids some more. We also planned to buy an excercise ball (and she was going to teach me core conditioning moves) and start her blog. But before we knew it, the time had come for her to leave. I am saddish that the fun is over, and since today seemed like Saturday, I am really afraid that I will accidentally skip work tomorrow and show up at church.

Hooked on a Gimmick

My dear friend The Captain's Wife arrived last night with her two children. We are having a fabulous time laughing and dishing about celeb gossip. We think Brad looks old and wonder just how the Angelina-belly will be after two C-sections. I know what my belly looks like after two C-sections and it ain't pretty.

Today we are going shopping and out to lunch. I feel like a lady of leisure because it is Tuesday and I am off work to have fun. I have made the executive decision that Breakfast Night will have to be rescheduled for Wednesday in order to spread the joy around.

One thing I can't shake is this craving for Melting Pot. We are debating whether this is wise to take kids to M.P. (pros-lots of little food that is already cut up and cons-hot plates and it can take a long time). I have to confess that I LOVE Melting Pot. I am kinda embarrassed about it because it is not only a chain (ugh), but a gimmick too. I am not good at impulse-resistance and instant-gratification-denial so I'm thinking we're probably gonna end up at M.P. Mmmmmmm....and I've got to have that yin yang chocolate swirl thing.

Memory Lane

I hardly know where to begin...so many memories are swirling around in my mind. Friday the kiddies and I went to my parent's house, had a fabulous country lunch, and then we went to the alumni walk at my high school. Mr. Lipstick stayed home doing this:
He is building a stacked stone fence around our house. I am so proud of my Mr. Lipstick-he is so smart and creative and I am hot about those muscles.

As I pulled into the parking lot of the school, I felt anxious and tears filled my eyes. I kept telling JBB that I was glad that he was there. Here's the beautiful building:

As soon as I walked in the door and saw the hallway, I had tears streaming down my face. My throat was tight and I had no voice. I turned around, almost ready to walk out the door and I was instantly hugged by the mother of a girl from my class. She has been a teacher at the school forever, and I felt like I was back in elementary school. It was comforting to see her after all these years. After a few minutes, the tide of emotion subsided. I walked down the hall and started looking in each of rooms, encountering people from my past and reminiscing. Here is the room where I had English and History:

There was a silent auction for most everything in the building. The was the hottest item:

I was vying for this register cover until the bid reached $150. I realized that I was bidding against an old friend who now has a couple of kids at the school. She has served as the alumni association president for a few years and has taken over 700 museum quality pictures of the school. All of a sudden, I didn't want the register cover anymore, and I desperately wanted her to have it. My mother and I started watching the bid card for her. She won in the end for $200.

Eventually my Daddy and JBB were off playing, and my Mother, Nonna (my grandmother), Pretty Girl, and I walked from room to room. Here are some of the highlights:


In one of the upstairs room, I saw another friend whom I have known for 29 years. We attended kindergarten through graduation together. She was there with her three sons, and she is just as I remembered. She has a fabulous laugh, gorgeous red hair, and a spunky personality. It was an absolute joy to see her. Amazingly, she looks exactly the same as the day we graduated (in a good way);some folks just have the fountain of youth!

We also saw another kindergarten through twelfth grade friend (one of the daughters of the woman who hugged me as I walked in the building). She is just as kind and beautiful as I remembered. She now is a stay at home mom with a couple of sons. We got a picture of the three of us and our six sons and Pretty Girl. That's one for the scrapbook.

I also saw the Big Man on Campus. He was a senior when I was a freshman; he actually remembered me (or faked it really well). He is still charismatic and handsome, and it was good to see him.

In the end, I purchased three commemorative bricks, some flasks and funnels from the science room, and a beautiful line drawing of the school (done by the friend who won the bidding for the register covers).

It was hard to leave. I kept finding excuses to go back in the building and just see it all one more time. I wish it could be restored. My heart is sick that it will soon just be a memory. I can remove myself enough to see that it is in disrepair, and I know it would be a financial burden to restore it. The hard part is that it is still beautiful to me. I realized later that night that I can envision how Mr. Lipstick could make it look....restored windows, all the drop ceilings and dry wall removed, original fixtures returned to their original glory. It would be flawless, like time had just stopped and it was 1912 again. That's just my fantasy world, no more real or practical than fantasy baseball.

In the end, I drove around the building one more time. My K-12 friend and her family were out front, Big Man on Campus was helping someone load something into an SUV, and my fabulous red-headed friend was making arrangements to pick up the lockers she bought (not just any locker...she had written her name in Sharpie on the door 17 years earlier). In the rear view mirror, it didn't seem much different than driving away from a basketball game or a play, except this time I was really grown-up and I had two precious children of my own in the back seat.

I've Gotta Pee

Good morning! I almost never post in the morning. I really admire all you bloggers who write in the quiet of the mornings before work. I absolutely cannot do that. I just have no impulse control...I end up turning off the computer at the very last nanosecond and then I race around like a crazy person, end up late to work wearing a questionable outfit and even worse hair.

But this morning I woke up bright and early, mainly because I didn't fight sleep. I'm off work today...I am going home to my high school. Yesterday was very busy...much preparation in the works.

You know how when you laugh so hard that your shoulders shake, but you don't make any noise, you have tears poking their way out of the corners of your eyes, and you can't stop laughing no matter what you do? Well, we had that kind of laughter at work. One of the technicians has this country accent (think Loretta Lynn/Reba McEntire, not as much Scarlett O'Hara). Her deep, gutteral, mumble is a constsant source of joy and amusement that is always heightened by PharmGuy's imitation of her. He is one of the other pharmacists; he's very tall and actually looks a lot like Matt Damon. He has this deeeeeep voice and he flirts with all the older black ladies that come in the pharmacy. They all have crushes on him and giggle like fifth graders when he talks to them. Between her mumble and his imitation, I laughed harder than I have in a long time.

Then I checked email and saw that one of my college friends has added me as a friend on Facebook. I just gasped out loud...I haven't seen/spoken to him in about 14 years. I was so in love/awe of him. He's very tall and was just gorgeous (my roommate used to call him the Gillette man), very proudly from Chicago with a thick accent and a brash, in-your-face personality. I was so crazy about him...he was like a rock star to me. Anyway, I've got to figure out my Facebook account. I've never actually logged in because it doesn't recognize my email. Who knows? Facebook support is working on it. I'll keep you posted.

That was truly the best part of work yesterday...saddish because it happened about 30 minutes after we opened. But I did get to leave a few minutes early so that tied for a close second of best work moment.

Wardrobe and Hair

Since I got to leave work early, I could go to my favorite little boutique for a few minutes. The problem is that when I take the shortcut from work, I am coming on the opposite end of the shortcut that I take from my house. What this means is that no matter how many times I go, I get lost. I have gotten lost so many times that it all looks familiar and right. Each time I vow that I will just map it out, write it down, and never have this problem again. Of course, when I finally make it there, I am just so glad to be there that I forget all about that pesky map thing.

My favorite boutique is a fancy little consignment store in the same area as the Amazing Mall (which has a Tiffany's, a new Lacoste, Betsey Johnson, LV, Nordstrom's in construction). I used to shop at Amazing Mall until I found Fancy Consignment. My favorite part is finding things that retail for between $75 and $1000 all in the same store. I never shop anywhere else. I LOVE living in a city where everyone loves to pay too much for everything and then gets tired of it really quickly. I got three dresses for Pretty Girl, a khaki-colored RL shirt (with a subtle logo...same color as the shirt-The Preppy Princess would be proud), and the most elusive of all...a pair of black capris that makes my legs look longer (who knew such a thing existed?).

I had to leave Fancy Consignment very quickly to make it to the Salon on time. I just needed a basic trim...deadends be gone! My stylist has red spiky hair, a snarky sense of humour, and is very gay--so, in a word, he is fabulous. He was featured in the local society magazine (oversized, gloriously pretentious) and we had to joke about that. He, of course, has amazing taste and was sad about my historic school being demolished. Before I knew it, he was finished. A few more laughs and a hug and I was out the door. When I leave, I feel like there should be a wind machine and some paparazzi because I always feel so glamourous. Sigh...love me a blow-out.

Happy Hearts and Clean Floors

I picked up the kiddies (who had already eaten supper-whohoo!) and we headed home. Mr. Lipstick was outside working (he is building a stack stone fence--it is beautiful and very labor intensive; pictures tomorrow). We all stayed outside with him until it got dark. My pretty salon blow-out got very frizzy and sweaty. Oh well, it was fun to be outside with the fam.

When we finally went inside, I had almost forgotten that Cleaning Lady had come. Ahhhh. There is nothing like going shopping after work, going to the salon, staying outide til dark, and then going inside to a sparkly house. Life is good.

Today the kiddies and I are going to my historic high school which will be demolished next week. Pictures to come...

Oh, It's a Long One

I swear. JBB and his nocturnal thirstiness. I was yanked out of slumber by "Mommy, Mommy, Mommy, Mommy, Mommy...." in his persistent, but not really panicked voice. I stumbled into his room where he informed me that he needed water. Also, he would prefer it in a sippy cup. The bottle of water already upstairs was just going to have to do. No custom orders in the middle of the night, buddy.

I wish I was one of those go-back-to-sleep-ers. No luck. Mr. Lipstick has a nice snore going on right now which, oddly enough, reminds me of the Muppets. These days, if I wake up in the night, I instantly think of the beautiful, historic building where I attended high school. It will be demolished as scheduled and I am sad about it. The in-town alumni mounted a fierce battle to save it. The time constraints were too tough and I didn't even find out about it all until it was too late. I know I am not alone in that.

I am going to see it one more time on Friday. I can't get it out of my mind. It is driving Mr. Lipstick crazy. He has pointed out that I graduated 16 years ago and I haven't shown any interest in all that time. He doesn't get why I'm so upset about it all.

In all honesty, I don't know either. I mean, I am passionate/obsessed with recycling, reuse, repurposing, preservation, and architecture. That explains part of it. But I feel like I am going to a funeral on Friday. I crave some closure. I want it to be perfect with Mr. Lipstick and the kiddies by my side. Somehow this is a representation of the present meeting the past.

I wish I would have this amazing insight into myself about why I am so upset. Somehow it is disconcerting and unsettling to know that this building that I have scarcely seen since I graduated will now be gone. Maybe it's because I don't like change and not in a I'm-inflexible-at-work-way, but in a once-I-find-something-I-like-why-change way. I go to the same restaurants and order the same thing. If I like a movie, I will watch it over and over and...enjoy it more each time. I could have the same three vacations every year-Disney, NYC, and the beach. I'm sure the Grand Canyon is nice, but I have seen it on the Travel Channel. I'm good for now.

Saturday morning I woke up way too early and I posted the following letter on the Save this Building website:

Dear members of the board,

This is a humble and impassioned plea for a stay of execution for the demolition of our building.

I call it “our building” because that is how we alumni feel. Some of the most important events in our lives transpired within the walls of that beautiful building.

We have learned how to deal with victory and defeat on that basketball court and in those classrooms. Those long-ago events comprise vital parts of our educations, our world-view; they are events that have molded us into the parents and professionals we have become.

The building is not merely the setting of those events, but inextricably intertwined with their memory. Even the simplest detail like the popping of the radiators on a cold February day ignites a powerful emotional response within those of us who love this building.

I remember once leaving school late in the afternoon. For some reason, I was alone as I walked down the hallway from the stairs headed toward the old teacher’s lounge and the cafeteria. Warm afternoon sunlight streamed through those beautiful windows onto the gleaming hardwood floors.

I was busy with all the things that high schoolers are, always planning, never really living in the present and waiting for the next milestone like the acquistion of a driver’s license; but I remember the sight of that hallway just stopped me and I paused to take in its beauty.

Sometimes love is an unwieldly and impractical burden, inconvenient and untimely. This is perhaps one of those times. I respectfully ask the board just to wait. Please don’t be hasty to destroy this beautiful building. We all know there is work to be done. We beg for the chance to save it. We are the people who cooked food for the Halloween Carnivals and the spaghetti suppers, took it to school, and then paid to eat it.

Please don’t seal the building’s fate yet. If any of you have been to NYC to Grand Central Station you know what an architectural marvel it is. Yet in the late sixties it was too slated for demolition…labeled useless and a blight on the city. Thanks to Jackie Kennedy Onassis, it is still there and it is beautiful once again. You can take your children to see it, and you can stand, slack-jawed in the center, shake your head, and wonder how could anyone want to destroy this.

We are certain that if this building were saved, in the coming years people would stand in that long hallway with those tall ceilings, the custom trim, and the hardwoods, and wonder how could anyone want to destroy this.

Please don’t be the governing body whose legacy is the destruction of what is beautiful and historic. It may cost a million dollars to save it, but the building itself is priceless. For those of you have paid for hardwoods (real, not laminate) in your house, or added custom crown moulding, solid core doors, Victorian style register covers, antique brick, double-hung wooden frame windows…you know this building could never be replaced.

Please reconsider. Please postpone. Once the building is gone, it will be too late. Please don’t sacrifice it for what seems like the best thing now. Imagine fifty years from now, even a hundred years from now. You are the custodians of history. Please don’t bury it.

Respectfully,
Lipstick

Photos and self-psycho-analysis forthcoming. And for those dear readers who have made it to this point...many, many thanks for your time.

Geezer-azzi

I think we need a new type of celebrity photog. We have paparazzi, stalkerazzi, glitterazzi. I am in favor of having some geezer-azzis. Today my At Work Friend and I were talking about how we don't actually buy as much Us Weekly, People and the like because the subjects are usually younger than us. I'm sorry, but they have gotten all High-School-Musical on us, and I just don't like it.

Even Angelina Jolie is younger than me, and don't even get me started on the train-wreck that is the Spears sisters, and that kid Zac Efron...oh, no. No, no, no.

So, of course, this makes me want to design my own celeb magazine. The rules...no one under thirty, you gotta at least have one child and having a bunch of dogs does not count, you are currently in talks with your agent about when to schedule your next cosmetic procedure, and has-beens are not relegated to an eighth of a page next to those annoying post-cards for subscriptions.

Who would you pick? I am a sucker for any mag with Jennifer Aniston on the cover, I still like ole Faith Hill (even though it's pretty much just Redbook now), and it goes without saying that if Sly were on the cover of anything, well, you know-I'm buying two. I do make an exception to the rule...any cover of any Celebu-mom and Celebu-baby because that reminds me that celebrities are really Just. Like. Us.

Twitter-esque

Is it stupid to take a power nap on the couch at 8:45 so I can be awake enough to blog something semi-interesting and still clean the kitchen and do some laundry? It feels way too early to go to bed.

As my mother would say, I am fighting sleep. I inherited this from my Daddy (who takes power naps at 11 pm) and I have been doing it all my life. I think I will put off changing my ways and go for the instant gratification of a quick snooze on the couch with some tv in the background. G'night...at least for, like, 20 minutes.

LOL

Check this from TMZ.

Well Connected

This morning Mr. Lipstick and I had our yearly check-ups at our primary care doctor. We must have back-to-back appointments because if I don't supervise him at every step of the way, Mr. Lipstick wouldn't go to the doctor. Ever. And I will not let him be one of those men who doesn't go to the doctor for forty years because he is too stubborn and when he finally goes, he is nearly dead from a dozen disease states. Oh no, I am not having it, cause I love me some Mr. Lipstick.

We got the kids ready, dropped them off at preschool/daycare, and made it to the very early appointment in a fairly close to punctual manner. After we left the kids at school, we were sitting in traffic, just us, at 7:55 on a weekday morning. That was weird.

All of a sudden I started thinking about how getting out of the house was easier than I thought. I hadn't yet realized that I had forgotten JBB's towel for water day (the bimonthly splash-fest at school) and while I remembered to send his clothes, I forgot his sneakers. But I did figure out pretty quickly that I left my phone at home. On the coffee table.

I instantly felt that really annoying feeling you get when you forget your watch or your rings, and you just know it is going to bother you all day long. Then worry set in. What if I needed my phone? Not in a frivolous way, but, you know, NEEDED it. As in, what if I have a flat tire, what if I run out of gas (even though I have half a tank), what if someone plows into me (after all, there are a few intersections between work and home), what if there is a natural disaster (it could happen)?

I felt so...not well connected, which got me to thinking. We didn't always have cell phones, they weren't always so portable (remember the Motorola bag phone-I had one), you didn't always have a gagillion minutes, and you didn't always have reception everywhere. So why has this ubiquitous and generally reliable gadget given us such a sense of security?

It's like we think impending disaster will be delayed just so we can call for help. Or we know that if we are well connected, we at least won't be bored or lonely. How apropos for this to happen on the first day of the new iPhone.

Good news...I made it the entire day without the phone and nothing disastrous happened. It was OK. But it was a sweet reunion to find my phone on the coffee table right where I had left it.

EDITED TO ADD: Once in pharm school my super-chic friend and I went to lunch on the opening day of a super-chic Thai restaurant. She had just gotten a tiny little phone the week before. I told her all about how I had gotten a cool new phone too, and that it was a technological wonder of sorts. Finally, she had enough and demanded to see this new phone. I reached down to my tote bag and pulled out this

Reading by Candlelight

I decided to tell another of my IRL friends about my blog. She is another super-cool pharm-mommy and a classmate of mine in pharm school. I sent her an email about the blog a while ago, and since she is not quite the internet addict that I am, she just got my email.

Today at work I got the most wonderful message...she read the blog and loved it! Whoo-hoo! That message totally made my day!

I think I will call her Candlelight here in Lipstick-land. Of course, there's a story. First, you have to know that she has a fabulous Southern accent. Once when describing her wedding dress, she said, "it's not white, it's candlelight." I simply must attempt some phoenetic spelling to convey the charm and utter hilarity of this comment. Here goes: "it's not wh-iiiiiiii-te, it's candle-l-iiiiiiiii-ght." My other IRL friend/super-cool pharm-mommy/fellow classmate and I have called her Candlelight ever since.

Now I need to introduce you to her...I will call her The Captain's Wife (since she is, well...married to a captain). I have invited her to Lipstick-land too. We are spread across the US these days. The coming weeks bring a reunion for us. Since meeting we have had two weddings, four sons, and two daughters. I love to look back at the pictures over the years and see how our little pharm-mommy family has grown. I love them dearly as the sisters I have never had. Welcome Candlelight and Captain's Wife! I am proud you are reading!

EDITED TO ADD: I just discovered the link...so welcome any fellow TRA alums who find this!

Just Stuff About Tuesdays

I love Tuesdays.

It is breakfast night for the Lipsticks. The protein is from turkey bacon and the carbs are from orange Pillsbury rolls. Don't you judge me! JBB is always excited about it and is usually found yelling, "Mommy, it's breakfast night!" at the top of his lungs as we leave school. (Redneck moment of the day).

It is Hair Cycle Day #2 which just means less time getting ready in the morning and more time I have to piddle around and straighten up my closet and procrastinate about getting ready.

Today I wore an outfit that was good with just Downy Wrinkle. That stuff is amazing. Also really fabulous is the fact that my L'oreal Sublime fakebake is just dark enough and not streaky. As my mother likes to say...simple pleasures are the best.

What's a little sad about Tuesdays...
Tomorrow night I have to cook an actual supper;
I will have to wash my hair in the morning;
I will have to reapply the fakebake to maintain the just dark enough status;
It looks like I'm going to have to iron too.

Back to happy Tuesday news...Hubby just found out he made a 98 on his midterm!!! Way to go Mr. Lipstick! He is smart, funny, very hot, and can use big words in a sentence. He is also very good at learning how to be a lawyer.

In other news, it has now been revealed that Sunday Rose Kidman Urban was named after Australian arts patron Sunday Reed. Well, I'll sleep better tonight.

Mooooooooommmmmmmeeeeeee!!!!!

That is what startled me out of slumber exactly twenty-seven minutes ago. Apparently Spiderman was on our roof and was coming to get (or not rescue) JBB. A quick snuggle, a few kisses, and getting tucked back into bed was all he needed to be back sound asleep. Me...not so much.

I am now downstairs snuggled with my laptop watching Desperately Seeking Susan. I love that movie...I love the pre-Kabbalah, pre-fake British accent, pre-children's book writing Madonna. I once heard some standup comedian say we all liked her better when she was just some broad from Detroit with a great rack.

But who am I kidding? I wasn't sleeping that well anyway. I went to high school here.
I just found out this weekend that this stunning 96-year old building is slated for demolition. This building with amazingly tall ceilings and windows to match and hard wood floors throughout. This building that is so picturesque that it was selected for the movie "Great Balls of Fire."

Apparently, "the board" gave the alumni thirty days to raise $200k to save the building. Over a hundred thousand was raised before the deadline of one month expired and so one of the hometown papers is reporting that demolition will actually occur.

I am so pissed. Crazily, cross-eyed, ready-to-explode pissed. I didn't even know about it until it was too late. I'm sure there are hundreds of us in the same situation. How does this represent any kind of good faith effort on the part of "the board" when there was not time for the alumni to be notified? In the absence of having an updated alumni database, then get out the yearbook and start calling the parents. (They didn't even post it on the main website of the school or post a link to the preservation site either). I've moved away, but my parents haven't.

It could have been done...if there had been enough time. A local preservation society was trying to help. Why can't they file an injunction against conspiratorial, dumb-ass behavior? I am going to have to get Mr. Lipstick to check this out.

Well I Was Born in a Small Town

I hope everyone had a fabulous and safe Independence Day! We are now home from the House of Grandparents, and the kids are so hungover from grandparent fun that they are still asleep!

Our trip began interesting enough because we left on time! I was packed and ready to go as soon as I got home from work which is monumental because I am never this organized. But I think I am hooked on the whole plan-ahead thing because it was so stress free. I even took the time to do a self-pedi.

We had been on the road no more than thirty minutes when JBB said, regarding nothing in particular, "Mommy is that sexy?".
What?!? "What sweetie?"
"Is that sexy?"
"Sweetie pie, that is a grownup word. Do you know what it means?"
"What does it mean to you Mommy?"

We had a safe trip to grandparents, stayed up late visiting, and slept late on the fourth. Pretty Girl just couldn't get acclimated to her surroundings and as a result I carried her around the WHOLE time. Here we are:

We had a fabulous late lunch of bar-b-q and all the trimmings. This got me to wondering if people are most loyal to the first bar-b-q they ever experience. You know how people in Texas think Tennessee bar-b-q is just crap, and people in Tennessee are like, "they have bar-b-q in Texas?". Well, we had bar-b-q from Sparky's, the same place that we have gotten it for the last...hmmm, my whole life. I swear it is the best in the whole wide world. At least to me.

I did tell my mother about my blog because I can't keep anything from her. It's just how it is. But...she liked it. Except for the occasional spicy language. She told me that was tacky and I shouldn't write that way because I was raised right. So I got almost complete endorsement.

That night we watched fireworks in the little town where I grew up. We sat in a little porch of this church:
The town is the accidental beneficiary of the prosperity of suburban sprawl. This time I saw a new Walgreen's and two new red lights. At the celebration, there were lots of lawn chairs with old folks and kids and teenagers trying to look cool. There were cars everywhere...all domestic and lots and lots of Mustangs (hood scoop, racing stripes, Flowmasters with chrome tips...klassy). I think the Lipstick-mobile and an old Honda Odyssey were the only imports around.

While we were sitting there, a man appeared from nowhere to talk to my Daddy. Not unusual because as a pastor, he knows pretty much everyone. I had a feeling it was going to be a long chat when he sauntered up and asked, "Do you know if Rev. Timberlake (JT's grandpa) keeps honeybees? I think he got them from the pastor before him...." This man talked forever. and ever. and ever. I tried to think it was charming a small town way--you know, unintentional reunion via town event--but he just talked way too long. I was finally able to snap this pic once he got all the honeybee info and as you can see I was not the only one grumpy about the long honeybee convo.

The fireworks finally began and were sufficiently impressive. Not quite the Macy's fireworks (thanks for sharing Fashion Herald), but we enjoyed nonetheless.

The rest of the visit was comprised of lots of playing and eating and the only napping was done by me. I even got a massage on Saturday morning. It was fabulous except that CountryMasseuse's phone rang...three times. "Iz zhis an E-mer-gen-see?" she barked. She is still amazing and will come in just for me when I come to town. I tipped good despite the phone call because I think I've got a pretty good thing going and I don't want to screw it up.

We are now home safe, sound, and all worn out. There is much cleaning and laundry to do, but I'm thinking the ninety degree weather calls for some pool time. I can't believe it's back to work tomorrow. Ah, the Monday after a holiday...

Happy 4th!

We are off to grandparents house so we can be spoiled with lots of playing and home-cooking complete with no naps and few rules. I hope everyone has a wonderful Indepence Day!

Mommy and Me Excercise

Have you ever done those Baby and Mommy excercise classes? Well, I never have because they always seems to be on Tuesday mornings at 10:30 (ever known a pharmacy to be closed at that time?).

Well, this Sunday at church I was helping out with the music for JBB's Sunday School class. Now this requires a little bit of explanation. For one thing, I had the Pretty Girl with me because it wasn't my week to be a helper, but we happened to be walking down the hall when the class was going to music. "Mommy," JBB screamed and came racing down the hall of the church. All of the other little kids followed. Any excuse to run in the halls is good enough for them.

So, I went with the class to music to help. Second salient point...I have NO musical talent. (Mr. Lipstick, however, is a singer/songwriter among many other things so maybe the kids have a chance at singing on key). Once I was singing the Winnie the Pooh song to JBB and he said, "Mommy, I want Daddy to sing it."

My "helping" with music consists of basically being one of the kids, except I intervene if they start crashing into each other. Still holding the Pretty Girl, I sang (moved my lips) and did all the crazy motions for the songs-up, down, turn around, side to side, repeat, repeat, jump, jump, jump, fly like an airplane, up, down, turn around. Next song. Pretty Girl didn't seem to mind all this activity and JBB enjoyed showing off. And I felt so great and refreshed and blessed by being one of the kids.

Come Monday morning I could hardly walk. Whatever could be ailin' me, I wondered. Then it hit me....it's the church music. All that up and down was the equivalent of doing deep squats at the gym while holding one of those 25 lb bars. So I have spent the last day gimping around like someone who has had hemorrhoid surgery while recovering from double knee replacements. It is not pretty, graceful, posh, chic, or even functional. I guess that's why there are no Mommy and Squirming, Heavy Toddler excercise classes.

Don't Try This at Home

Click on over to Mommy's Martini and check out this video. Who knew?