It's Been a Good One

 

Don't you just love these early summer weekends? See that big ole dandelion in the corner...I didn't even get around to pullin' that out 'til Sunday night. No real sense of urgency at all.

Saturday afternoon Mommy and Daddy Lipstick returned JBB to us in the usual grandparent manner (safe, sound, and spoiled). They graciously treated us to a relaxing lunch at one of my favorite locally owned restaurants. The food was fabulous, the iced tea was plentiful, and there was a gentleman who came by the table three times to do fun little magic tricks to entertain us. JBB said in his loudest child voice, "Mommy, do you know what color his skin is called?...It is called African-American." You've gotta love the loud child voice. In public.

In other news, the following are three new favorites of mine:
PrivilegeShe is a "52 year old executive brought up in privilege" and "standing still for a moment to examine the implications." Another way to say it is that she is fascinating. You will find yourself at the bottom of the page clicking on older posts because you want to read more. I promise.

Dr. Grumpy
A neurologist with a wicked sense of humor. Priceless and totally addictive. Meet your newest guilty pleasure.

Kings of LeonI know these guys have been a big deal for a few years now, but since I am more on the cutting edge of baby products than excellent music, I was a bit late to this party. Now, y'all, I can't get enough.

The Best Thing About the Internet

I just love the internet. It is so fabulous. The Google is always around to answer any trivia question you may have or readily settle any heated debate in which you find yourself engaged. You are never alone on the internet. Nothing you can think of is too weird because there is already a website and a sponsored ad to accompany your search inquiry. If you happen to find something truly unique, well, just rephrase, and those sponsored ads will appear.

This, of course, is the segue to introduce how the internet has been my accomplice, my untiring, electronic enabler for my current obsession. I think Adam Lambert looks like Elvis Presley. A lot.

I have always loved Elvis. Now I love Adam. There are thousands and thousands of pictures on Google Images of them both, and they simply must be viewed, sorted, cataloged, and picasa-collaged.

Now, I know that you are saying to yourself, "Ok, seriously, who has this much time?" Well, that would be me. After the little ones are in bed and Mr. Lipstick is buried in legal books, I have to be quiet. I could fold laundry, scrub the grout in the tub, or empty the litterbox. All of those tasks are available for my choosing. Oh, the options that are available to me! But somehow my laptop looks a little lonely; that thin little technological wonder and the world hidden inside is beckoning me. Adam and Elvis it is. Without further ado...

 

 

 

Pale Is the New Tan

Hopsy

Hopsy, I miss you!!! I am so sorry that someone would post unkind comments on your blog. You have many fans and we all feel devastated on your behalf. Cyberhugs to you!

(fyi: Hopsy of Monograms and Manicures had to abruptly set her blog to private).

What It Is and What It Isn't

More About This

Less About This

It's Wednesday, Right?

Thank you for all your kind comments and well wishes! I finally feel better! Turns out I actually had "strep throat" and after receiving two shots today I am like a new person.

Being the patient is always kind of a goofy experience. Mercifully Mr. Lipstick drove me to the appointment. I was just too tired, too weak, and in too much pain to manage it myself. Since my fabulous doctor created an appointment where there was none, I knew I was probably going to experience a bit of a wait. I remembered to bring my iPod. Some middle aged woman looked at me disapprovingly, her brows furrowed and her lips pursed. I wanted to cough on her. A man to my left glanced at me with a mixture of surprise and, "gee, why didn't I think of that?" in his eyes. Mr. Lipstick stoically read and highlighted the finer points of limited liability partnerships despite non-stop HGTV on the waiting room television.

While I was waiting a woman walked passed me towards the reception area. She was wearing a simple cotton dress. All of her hair was carefully tucked into a small starched black bonnet with a myriad of little pins. Her skin was clear, and she wore no make-up. Pentecostal, Mennonite, maybe? I was so intrigued that I immediately began listing all of the groups for whose members might dress in such a characteristic manner. Suddenly I was self-conscious. I was deep in thought, but did I appear disapproving? I fervently hoped not. My eyes instinctively fell to the floor.

Another bit of minutiae to capture my attention...she was wearing plaid Vans. What?? Vans. In case you've forgotten, here's a reminder.I just couldn't resist mentioning that fun fashion paradox.

Before I could begin speculating on the polyester content of the latest patient's red pantsuit, my name was called and I was ushered into the inner sanctum of the exam room. Isn't it funny how sometimes just seeing your doctor makes you feel a little better right away? When I was growing up, our family doctor was Dr. Jimmy. He was nothing short of amazing. He would walk in, pat your knee, and listen. My current doctor has a very gentle manner and a soothing voice. My recovery was beginning. After two shots in the but-tocks (run, Forrest, run), I was on my way to back to normal life.

Normal life includes, of course, a bit of swooning for him.Oh my goodness, I can't even tell y'all how much I loooooved the 7 foot tall Adam with KISS. Sigh...I heart Adam. I don't even really care all that much that he lost AI. I think there will be plenty of Adam music and merch to offer some satiety for my Adam cravings. It's all good. He's great though...the voice, and don't y'all think he looks like Elvis...

Bleh.

I think I have the flu. Not that flu...but I need Nyquil and a Snuggie. Back to bed.

GNO

I am just giddy with excitement! My children are bathed and are currently eating a healthy, albeit slightly mismatched supper of leftovers while wearing clean PJs and watching a 1965 episode of Bewitched. I am on my way out the door for Girls Night Out with a super-cool pharm-mommy friend of mine. We are going to consume lots of salt-filled Mexican food on a fabulous patio and wash it all down with salt-rimmed strawberry margaritas and giggle the entire time. See y'all tomorrow!

Two Thangs That Ain't Right

AND...

Happy Mother's Day

Happy Mother's Day to my Mommy, both of my grandmommies, and all of you lovely mommies in blogland!

My Mother's Day celebration began on Thursday afternoon with a tea at JBB's school and included a weekend trip to see Nonna and Mommy Lipstick and then concluded this afternoon with presents and a steak dinner cooked by Mr. Lipstick. It was wonderful. I am exhausted from the fabulousness. I took lots of pictures and I can't wait to share, but despite my legendary sense of organization (wink, wink), I have somehow misplaced the cord for the camera, and voila...no pictures. I am so tired that I am actually going to bed early. Something may be seriously wrong with me.

An Itsy Bitsy Teeny Weeny Hint of a Rant

I love American Idol. I try to act chic and embarrassed about it, but since I am simply unable to hide my ebullience, I just have to deal with appearing like any other goofy American willfully imprisoned to the television on Tuesday and Wednesday nights. Now I have had some favorites in the past, but nothing compares to Adam Lambert. Oh, y'all. I love The Adam. Here he is.I love his voice and his charisma. I really love that spiky, fuzzy hair of his. I think he is pretty and his bone structure is blissfully reminiscent of The Elvis. He is also very tall. And I love tall. Oh, and then there's the voice. Did I mention the voice? Thank you DVR, because I have to watch his performances two or four times...

But now for my little rant-ette...every single week on Facebook there are a varied group of friends of friends who keep writing little blurbs about how Adam is just "so freaky" and "creepy" and "strange" and....if I devoted more than half a second I might remember more adjectives.

Of course, they are entitled to their opinions, blah, blah, blah. It made me grouchy-ish which is why I'm blogging about it. Mr. Lipstick says, "you know he's [stage whisper] gay, right?". Mr. Lipstick thinks the whole swoon-worthy/gay man dichotomy is pretty funny. Whatever. I had a crush on George Michael back in 1984.

I digress. Why do people consistently write...week after week after week...that they are so freaked out by Adam?

Not Much of Nothin'

You know when I first started reading blogs and people would go for days without posting, I would wonder, "well, what are they doing?" and "why aren't they posting?" and "are they ever coming back?". I have now been blogging for just over a year (whoo hoo!) and now I know that sometimes you are just too tired to fold clothes while typing...no matter how great and inspired your post idea.

I did find these comf-ugly shoes made my Crocs. I am ordering them. Don't judge me.

Ok, some of you are appalled by the tackiness. I can feel it, but I think I will be overwhelmed by the ahhhhhh.... feeling.

Have you heard this song by Serena Ryder? I *love* it. I wish I could sing like that-all raspy and feminine at the same time. I have been singing it a lot anyway in my car with a totally adorable and completely captive audience.