Debbie Does Drivel

All right look, I know.
I haven't written a stitch for over a month.
It's just that my life is borderline interesting and I don't think you care.
Since last month my sis got married. She's not like me. She doesn't really care what people think. In fact, she sported a farmer's tan in her strapless wedding dress.

I released our organization newsletter. Our exec dir still doesn't like it. I could go through the reasons why, but it has to do with low serotonin reuptake inhibitors.

I hosted a My Mom's Recipes party where folks brought dishes that remind them of mom or grandma. I have a habit of coming up with lame party ideas. It's my signature. This one went quite well. Because I didn't cook much. Best thing was Sticky Toffee Pudding and Grandma's Lemon Cake. The South Beach Diet is now located somewhere east of the Yangztee River.

My daughter is thisclose to being picked up by Child Protection Services (CPS). Reason is she's a man and likes to do man things like plummet headfirst into concrete and slam her face Seagal-style into bricks.

I am now leaving to check my Ovulation Predictor test stick.
Next time I write (later this afternoon. it' a promise I made myself), I aim to not just write what pops into my head and to also weave an interesting story out of the banality that has become my theme adjective.

UNEXPECTED CALAMITY

I planned to write earlier, but Kev and I had an arguscussion.
Really more an argu, less a scussion.

Over the weekend, we visited friends who recently bought a new home in a development way the hell north. It's a great place and area, it just is way the hell over the moon. As we drove through the development, Kev grew quiet. He shared he was jealous...envious that people could afford a home in San Diego in a community where bums don't rustle through your garbage at 3AM. And PM.

I related. In this place, there were rolling fields, new schools, parks with slides. All very Stepford. Perfect for kids. But knowing that our friends paid $725,000 for their home and knowing that was a deal...I laughed the envy off. It's like thinking you can invite the prettiest girl in school to the prom by baking her a cake. And you are 4'2 and don't speak English.

It wasn't going to happen.

Monday, after a phone call from this friend...to tell me that she and her husband think we actually could afford a house if only Kev would look into financing, and that there are 0% down deals out there, and that rates are low, and buying real estate is a no brainer...I started thinking: pimpled asses look better than my life right now.

I grew mad at Kev: why couldn't we have bought a house in 1998 when they were more affordable? Why does he have to think about everything so much? Why can't he take a risk? Why is he so tall? That selfish giant bastard.

A little background: Kev is practical. I am not. Kev wants to do things like pay off debt. I want Banana Republic wedge heels. Now. Kev thinks things to death. I impulse think. And sometimes, I don't want him to think so much. (When we were deciding whether or not to spend the night at our friend's place b/c the 85 million mile drive would be too much at midnight, it took him 10 minutes (10 minutes!) to make a decision.)

I grow frustrated at times. I think all my problems would be solved if he would just stop thinking and start acting. By Gosh, we'd be in a house! I'd have a blonde flip hairdo and a stainless steel backyard BBQ!

So by now, you are starting to see that I'm a self-centered hate monger. This lyric by the Indigo Girls still sums up Kev's decision-making approach: "Up on the watershed, standing at a fork in the road. You stand there and agonize, until your agony's the heaviest load..."

BUT, if it weren't for him, I'd be credit card maxed, in debt to my professionally-waxed eyebrows. So my decision-making approach theme lyric is: "Amadeus, Amadeus. Ah-Ah-Ma-Deus. Amadeus, Amadeus."

What?

Exactly.

TO NOBODY

If nobody has tried to e-mail me anything the last 6 months, please know that the I had the wrong e-mail on here. So nobody was able to get a hold of me. I've changed the e-mail now, so nobody can resume trying to get in contact with me.