Home Again, Home Again

Jiggity Jig. The tonsillectomy went very well. I had to go to the hospital on Friday at 7 a.m. and my surgery was scheduled for 9. I had my very first IV. The hospital gown had a tube that blew hot air into it like a little insulated blanket. It was quite lovely, as were all of my nurses and attendees. I don't recall being given my anesthesia, only having the anesthetist ask me if I was in the center of the operating table. I responded "I think so" and the next thing I knew I was in the recovery room. They sent me home around 1.
Honestly? Up until today my pain has been minimal. Of course, the liquid Vicodin every four hours takes all of the credit. My diet has consisted mostly of Jamba Juice, Jell-o and Udon soup. And so much water. So much. The most fun part of that is a side-effect of Vicodin that makes it hard to get the ol' pee flow started. As of yesterday, I'd lost two pounds which is a far cry from the ten they threatened me with but I'll take it. Since misery loves company, my Aunt Flo decided to show up for a visit which is just what I need. Another fun side effect of the Vicodin? Constipation. Let me tell you, it's nothing but good times in my house.
Let's see what else I can tell you... Oh, I sound like a deaf girl with very special needs. Because of this I got very special treatment at the supermarket. I actually had to tell the cashier that I only had my tonsils out. He turned a lovely shade of red. My mom and I figure I should be asking for donations for the little cards with sign language on them. I could make a couple bucks on the side while I'm out of work. Other than that? It's pretty frickin' boring.
I would like to give a hearty thanks to BFF for my beautiful flowers; to Crusty for Monsoon Wedding, SNL:The Best of Chris Farley and rocket popsicle molds; to Shora for Monsters, Inc. which is making its way to me now; and to everyone that has sent me emails and text messages and have come by to visit. You guys are so sweet to succumb to my begging for special treatment. I love you all very much.


Haiku Friday on a Thursday

Shouldn't I be more nervous?
I credit Prozac
At least a week off
No internet at my folks'
No blogs or email
Her blog is itching
And her birthday is Sunday
Show her some happy

My Amazon.com Wish List
I'm shameless.


"It" Girls

I wasn't going to address this but I feel as if I've been left no choice. It's not like they need more coverage: Britney, Lindsay and Paris. These "ladies" (and I used that term as loosely as I assume their private parts are) have all of the privilege in the world. They have notoriety. They're rich. They're famous. They used to have their looks. Now? I mean, they're no better than white trash. Vagina flashes. Arrests. Divorces. Custody battles. Drug abuse. DUIs. Prison sentences. Is jail the new Ivy? I'm not even sure if that's a hip club any more... Haha. But you know what I'm getting at.
I suppose I am to blame for my irritation on this subject as I admit to frequenting tabloid websites like TMZ and Perez Hilton and have therefore been bombarded with constant coverage of these girls' failures. I would be better off reading Harry Potter or studying Spanish to pass the free time at work. But somehow they suck me in. Britney used to be my lady crush. Now? I look at her and wonder if she's loved by anyone in her life. The lust has been replaced by pity. I fell in love with Lindsay in Mean Girls... and then I don't know what happened to her. There has never been a soft spot in my heart for Paris though. Nope. Can't even muster sympathy.
All of it just seems like such a waste. And whether they like it or not, little girls look up to these three. They want to be singers and actresses and the center of attention just like their idols. And rather than setting a good example, Paris, Lindsay and Britney are instead giving the impression that women are nothing more than substance abusing floozies and attention whores. That brains come second to beauty and fashion. Quite frankly, I fear for the children that are our future. Little boys that want to grow up to be thugs like 50 Cent. Little girls that dress like 20 year old street walkers.
Thank God for the likes of the newly reformed Christina Aguilera. For Pink and her statements like "Stupid Girls." Rappers like Nas. If only the "It" people of Hollywood spent more time endorsing education and philanthropy instead of clubs and drugs. Instead of shopping sprees at Kitson, maybe they should consider giving their time and money to local children in need, become their heroes for a better reason than what they're offering now. Make their fame worth it.


Oh, Barbie

Hilarious website for the girls with attitude.

Reverting to Childhood

Ok, seriously? What is going on here? Last night I got 12 hours of sleep. I woke up at 6:30 a.m. I'll let you do the math. I have a terrible cough that makes me sound like a barking seal. Also? I'm filling my free time reading a children's book (currently at page 258 out of 759):

and I had this for dinner:

In a couple of days, I'm getting my tonsils taken out. Re-read what I just wrote. Would you think I was 13 or 30? And as far as the tonsils go, I went for my pre-op appointment at the hospital yesterday. The doctor's office scheduled me a 1:45 appointment, at which I arrived promptly, only for the hospital to tell me they had yet to receive doctor's orders for the surgery. So I waited. For two hours. Until they finally got the release there. One would think I was having major reconstructive surgery rather than a simple tonsillectomy but all of my paperwork is now complete, my blood has been taken and I'm scheduled to go in on Friday at 7 a.m. for a 9:30 tonsillectomy. Any and all "Get Well Soon" gifts will be much appreciated.

My Amazon.com Wish List


Return of the 80s

Thank God for VH1
I can't look away from this trainwreck. White trash bitches.
This show is a must not miss. Poor Chachi is 45 and single.

See this again or, better yet, buy it. Classic.


Harry Potter Anticipation Haiku Friday

Pre-ordered my book
Amazon delivering
Right to my doorstep
My plans are to read
All weekend long. At the beach?
Yay! Summer weather!
SF pics are up
You don't need to sign in, k?
Just click the album


Fun With Camera Phones

Close-up of a happy, mobile baby

She is complete.


Dirty Hippies

In case you are completely unaware, this month marks the 40th anniversary of the Summer of Love. I'm not exactly sure why this is such a big deal other than its affiliation with free love, LSD and some pretty dope music, but up in San Francisco it is being celebrated like nobody's business. Prior to the Giants vs Dodgers game (if I had access to my home computer I'd show you pictures), the Summer of Love Revue (original name, no?) cover band was dressed in authentic 60s costuming in front of a psychedelic bus, riffing on their guitars and banging their tambourines like they were the Mamas and the Papas. Not exactly my cup of tea as I prefer the originals, but to each their own. Since my uncle and I were of the first 20,000 fans to show up at the stadium, we were rewarded with free Summer of Love tee shirts courtesy of Connie's Pizza. Wherever that is. They're fugly but they were free and I shall wear them when I clean my house. Since X-Small was not a size offered, my uncle gave me his so now I am the proud owner of 2 butt ugly tee shirts. Anyway, one of my absolute favorite parts of attending baseball games is singing the national anthem along with a stadium full of fans. If I miss it because I'm late arriving, I am left feeling an obvious void. If it's sung well enough, it will bring tears to my eyes. Oh, patriotism. How deeply you run in my veins. San Francisco decided to keep the Summer of Love theme going and invited the Summer of Love Revue to present the national anthem in the style of the late, great Jimi Hendrix. And I gotta tell you, they fucking blew it. Never in my life have I heard a worse rendition. Jimi? Sure. Cover band? I don't think so. And the Giants fans ate it up! I was appalled. Listen, the anthem is fine sung in standard form. Whitney Houston is the queen in my humble opinion. Roseanne Barr... well let's not get my dad started. And to all of those R&B superstars that feel the urge to add flair and oohs and aaahs ad nauseum? Save your creative liberties for your own music. Stop turning my anthem into shit. Thank you. And God bless America.


Gawl Dang Termites

My building is in the process of being fumigated. That means last night after work I had to go home and pack up all my food items in airtight plastic bags. Not only the stuff in the cupboards, but the refrigerated and frozen food as well. Nothing like doing that in an apartment that is approximately 85 degrees every evening thanks to the sun setting directly in my windows. Can you say "sweaty?" Because I have hypoallergenic mattress covers, those also had to be removed. All six of my gorgeous, healthy houseplants had to be transported over to my parents' house lest they fall victim to the poison assigned to kill the termites. Who knew those little bastards were eating my place of residence? Now I am homeless. Not exactly but I do have the pleasure of staying with my folks until Thursday. What that actually translates to is: no puffing at the end of my work day, no internet after work hours, no tv in my room, constant monitoring of my every movement, morning updates on the weather, repetitious story telling and living out of a suit case. All of the finer things in life. Then again, my beer and delicious home cooked meals will be free for four days so I guess I can't complain. By the time this fumigation is over, it will have been almost an entire week since I've slept in my own bed, something I know I will appreciate now that it has been taken away for so long. Oh, independence and freedom. How I love thee.



Today's public service announcement is a warning that Red Bull is evil. On Friday, during my 7-hour drive up to San Francisco, I noticed my eyelids were heavier than normal so I pulled off the freeway to get some sugar and caffeine in me. Because it was so warm, I didn't feel like sipping on a hot cup coffee but this particular market didn't appear to stock the Starbucks refrigerated beverages. I wasn't much in the mood for soda so I grabbed a tiny 8.5 ounce can of Red Bull. My brother and Eli drink these little buggers all the time so I figured I'd give it a shot. I've had a sip before but never a whole one to myself. When I was rung up for this $3+ drink, I asked the cashier if these things really "worked." He replied in the affirmative and I was on my way.
First of all, $3+ for 8.5 ounces of liquid? Preposterous, I declared. On top of that, this thing tasted like cherry/fruit punch cough syrup, not exactly delicious. After about 30 minutes, however, the active ingredient (Sugar? Caffeine? Allegedly the power of Taurine is a myth.) kicked in because in no time I was buzzing in my car. Since I foolishly had a Kit Kat bar with my Red Bull, my stomach became a painful, twisted mess. My eyes no longer had the blinking function. My hands were twitching. And suddenly, I became Speed Racer on crack with a blind fury directed at anyone that dared fuck up my momentum. Wow. For those of you that know me (hell, for those of you that read here often), you might have picked up on the fact that I am a hyperactive spaz as it is. Red Bull brings out my Mrs. Hyde. It's no good. So the next time you need a pick me up, I'd think twice about the Red Bull. Learn from my mistake.


A Flower In Your Hair Haiku Friday

Going to San Fran
Dodgers versus the Giants
Blue boys better win
Hair is cut real short
Dykey look for
The Castro
Find a lady love
Long drives lie ahead
Brought my "Learn Spanish" CDs
Habla espanol?
Bonus Haiku:
E can crawl fast now
Inverted hands, like bulldog
Tops of feet dirty
I wish you all some good luck
To counter the bad
Murders at the lake
Jason in a hockey mask
So freaking scary


Hairy Pooter & The Order of the Phallus

So... um... not so much. First, a little back story. I had asked HLP to buy our tickets in advance on Tuesday for the 8 o'clock showing of HPTOP thinking it was going to be an absolute zoo at the theater after all the hype that has surrounded this release. We even arranged to arrive an hour beforehand to get in line. When we got there, however, nary a line or crowd was to be found. Not even at the box office. We instead made use of our early arrival to grab Coldstone's and enjoy the promenade. By the time the movie began, only half the theater was full. I'm not sure if it was because it was a Wednesday night or if the people of Oxnard are psychic and knew what a bore this movie would be. Do you know how much it pains me to type that last sentence? Though I have been mocked before because of my love of the Harry Potter book series, at least those are undoubtedly entertaining. Not that HPTOP wasn't, per se, it simply didn't live up to my high standards of what a Harry Potter movie should be. The actors are darling but this story, sadly, solely served as a transition between movies. And while the book has several stories simultaneously occurring, this film was unable to juggle more than one plot. Is it visually satisfying? Yes indeed. Are the characters and the actors that portray them extraordinary? Absolutely. There simply wasn't enough action. And it was long. And why cast Helena Bonham Carter as Bellatrix Lestrange if you're only going to give her five minutes of screen time? It simply doesn't make sense.
So now that I've made my stance on the movie clear, I'd like to briefly note what an awful experience movie going is becoming. I may need a break. Parents, there is a PG-13 rating for a reason. This is not a movie for those under that age. Period. Your 6-year old will be scared and won't be afraid to tell us all in his outside voice that he is frightened. Or ask a million questions about the plot. People, I can see your fucking cell phone light from a mile away. Shut it off. You're not that important that you can't go 138 minutes without talking to or texting someone. Also? Shut the fuck up or learn how to whisper quietly. And for God's sake do you need to make so much noise coming and going to the restroom? Eating? Breathing? You're not the only people in the world. I'm sitting right next to you. Movie theaters, I recommend headphones and blinders. There's my solution as it seems society has lost all of its manners when it comes to going to the movies.


Make Your Own Simpsons Character

This is my version of me:
This is BFF's version of me:
Go here to make your own.

Blessing & A Curse

Lately I've been having a bit of a love/hate relationship with the world wide web. I embrace it for the knowledge it allows me to have right at my fingertips, yet I curse it for being such a huge and vital part of my existence. To imagine, the internet has really only been around for about 10 years, right? I chose to virtually document almost everything I do online for years by way of Friendster, MySpace and, last but not least, Blogger. Recently, I deleted my Friendster profile because it has, in my life at least, become obsolete thanks to MySpace (thanks, JJ). I've mentioned my unjustified obsession with that social networking site so I shan't reiterate it here. If it wasn't for e-mail, I wouldn't be able to keep in constant contact with friends and relatives, yet I find myself compulsively clicking refresh throughout the day and am a bit disappointed when there is no "new" mail. If it wasn't for Blogger, I wouldn't have met some amazing people I would have otherwise never met, yet where are my comments? My traffic? Classmates.com assisted me in organizing my 10-year high school reunion, yet it also brought up a lot of old shit I could have done without. Same with MySpace. It's a double-edged sword and frankly I'm not sure how I feel about it. I love that I'm back in touch with people I "grew up" with but at what cost? Will I later regret that I've posted so much personal information online? Is the past better left there? These are things I've been pondering lately but it really came to a head over the last couple of days. A certain blogger is going through some hard times with her sig-other. Her blog is her space to vent, yet he lacks an outlet and has been posting comments about their situation on other blogs to tell his side of the story. When does one's private life need to remain private? Is the blog really just an outlet for one's self or is there more to it? On a totally unrelated but somewhat related note, I am getting my tonsils out. On one hand I got to research everything associated with my tonsil issues that allowed me to "self-diagnose." On the other hand, my research also led me to one man's photo blog documentation of his post-op recovery. Did I really need to see that? To scare myself prior to surgery? Really? Do you all see where I'm coming from here? Do you ever feel this way? I am in no way judging anyone for leading their lives online as I do it myself, I just wonder if I'm alone in feeling this way. And I'm sure the things I've said above can be misconstrued when it comes to people from my past and the blogger I referred to, but I'm in no way trying to be negative or hurtful. Mostly just sorting things out...
Sorry for all the questions. Thanks for reading.


Autobots vs. Decepticons

Now this? Is a summer blockbuster. It's got a sweet romance, hot cars, lots of action and a fair share of laughs. Not to mention one of the sexiest and star studded casts around. They keep calling Shia LaBeouf the next Tom Hanks but frankly I think I love Shia more. He's a stinkin' cutie pie. And newcomer Megan Fox? Well the name says it all. But on with the show.
I wasn't sure what to expect walking into Transformers because die hard fans seem to frown on the inconsistencies while newbies are raving. Transformers toys were a big part of my childhood (as well as My Little Pony who gets a subtle nod in the flick) but I can't say they defined who I was growing up. Ultimately, there was very little cooler than a car that could transform into a robot. And at the time, seeing that was limited to cartoons and action figures! Now, when the dopest Camaro in town turns into Bumblebee or a flame-detailed semi truck turns into Optimus Prime in "real life"... well that, in a word, is rad. Don't get me wrong, there is some absolute cheesiness and cliches in Transformers. Kevin thinks the director, Michael Bay, is a hack. And I have to wonder if HLP had as much fun watching the action as I did... but all in all I would recommend this movie if you need to beat the heat or kill some time this summer. Coming in at just under three hours, though, I have to wonder if it needed to be that long. Not that I'm complaining. The movie wasn't even over yet and I was thinking of going again. More than meets the eye, indeed.


Head, Shoulders...

Knees and toes
Knees and toes
Head, shoulders, knees and toes
Eyes and ears and mouth and nose
Head, shoulders
Knees and toes
Knees and toes

I went to the ear, nose and throat specialist today and it is confirmed: the tonsils need to go. Not only that but I learned wonderful things about why I snore and how I can cure that lovely little flaw. I thought I would take this opportunity to educate you people. You can thank me later. First things first, though. Prior to going in I decided to be proactive and squeeze out a nice sampling of those tonsilloliths I was telling y'all about not too long ago. That way I had proof, ya know? Only this time they were accompanied by blood. Yucky. So I wrapped 'em up and put 'em in a sandwich baggie and off we went. Not only that, but I even printed a medical journal article to bring with me for further proof that I've done my research. Turns out my doctor didn't want to examine my specimen for long but her assistant did ask to keep my article. Always be prepared. Thanks, Girl Scouts.
So the doctor peeked around a bit and agreed that I was a great candidate for a tonsillectomy because of my chronic tonsillitis and its insistence that I miss work A LOT. Yippee! She then proceeded to tell me that this is an incredibly painful procedure for adults and that I should expect to lose up to ten pounds. It was like she was trying to discourage me and encourage me in the same sentence! The pain means nothing to me after 30 years of dealing with throat-related ailments. And basically, I can eat ice cream as a meal so I don't know who loses in this situation. I should be able to schedule my surgery in about a week!
Oh! And I nearly forgot about the snoring! I guess my nostrils are very narrow so when I breathe in through them, they collapse. Neat. The doctor suggested I purchase these things called Sinus Cones that will act as stints to keep my nostrils wide open while sleeping. How about that, huh? Not only are my nostrils thin and collapsable but it would appear as tough my left one is also obstructed by a large bone. Wow. Things I never knew. She also said that Flonase or other products like it will help with the congestion brought on by my allergies. I learned so much today. I hope you did, too.


Happy 38th Anniversary, Moo & Poo

Can't you just feel the love???



***Warning*** This movie is not suitable for children.
The hell you say! Well if the behavior of the kiddies in the audience is proof of anything, it will be that Ratatouille is not going to hold their attention or grab their interest. Either that or parents just don't know the power they are capable of wielding over the wee ones and instead think a hush is more effective than the threat of a beating when they get home. Is that to say this was not an enjoyable animated feature? Not at all. I found it fairly entertaining. It wasn't one of my favorite Pixar adventures but it was able to tickle a few laughs out of me. The cast was charming but not particularly memorable. And for some reason, Gusteau's ghost scared the bejesus out of me every time he popped out of no where, poor post-traumatic stress syndrome sufferer that I am. Mostly, though, Ratatouille just made me hungry. Someone with an appetite like mine should probably not be watching a movie based in a kitchen. Needless to say, after the credits rolled I took the fast track to the nearest restaurant for some cheese-laden French onion soup. It only seemed appropriate. If it's behind the scenes of a restaurant you're after, however, I'm going to suggest you skip this flick and pick up Kitchen Confidential by Anthony Bourdain, former chef and star of the show No Reservations on the Discovery Channel. It will be much more satisfying.

End of a 4-Day Work Week Haiku Friday

What a weird week, right?
Thinking the 4th was Sunday
I'm thrown off a bit
TGIF, though
Movie, Dodger game, the beach
Full weekend ahead
Seven, Seven, Oh-Seven
Mom and Dad's Three-Eighth


An Open Letter

Dear Taco Bell,
Long time fan, first time writer. I would like to start by giving credit where credit is due. Whenever I have the urge to boycott fast food, I always put you on my exempt list. Hell, even during Weight Watchers I used to frequently partake of your classic tacos because of their low points. That diet is a thing of the past but my run for the border occurs at least once or twice a month. Your hand-held Crunch Wrap is high on my list of favorite menu items. When you introduced the modified 7-Layer version, I practically gave you a standing ovation. Sure, it could have used a hint of your delicious ground beef but I decided to give you the benefit of the doubt. When I tried to satisfy my craving for one recently I was told you no longer made that item. Was I disappointed? I'd be lying if I said no. However I moved on. I decided to take the leap and try one of your Extreme Beef & Cheese Quesadillas. Oh. My. God. Can you say sabroso? I decided to let it slide that you took away the 7-Layer Crunch Wrap because you more than made up for it with the x-treme tastiness.
Tonight, after work, I bee-lined over to my local Taco Bell to grab an Extreme Beef & Cheese Quesadilla for dinner. When I rolled up to the drive-thru order speaker I was perplexed. That item was no longer visible on the menu. I only saw chicken and steak quesadillas- two big No-Nos at the Bell for this loyal eater. There must be some mistake, I thought to myself, so I asked for it by name. Again with this "discontinued" bullshit! WTF? You get me hooked on your savory treats only to take them away? Why do you do this to me? Are you trying to lose my business? My loyal dedication to you? Tell me! Tell me why!
So it has come to this. I'm considering a boycott. By way of this blog, I can reach approximately 25 people a day. When those 25 people each tell a person and that person spreads the word further, I have a feeling you will re-think this "give and take away" nonsense. You have two options: bring those mouth-watering menu items back or cut the shit on this limited time offer teasing you think is so clever. You're not only hurting your fans, ultimately you're hurting yourself. I know you'll make the right choice.

Yippi-kay-ay, Motherfucker

First things first, a happy belated 4th of July to you all. I hope it was filled with BBQs and fireworks. I had neither but it was a fun day nonetheless. That whole "Wednesday off" thing could definitely become habit forming.
On Tuesday I saw Live Free or Die Hard which takes place on 4th of July weekend. Quite appropriate, no? Nothing says "All-American" like terrorism, computer hacking and a ridiculously high body count. I'll be the first to confess I have not seen the other Die Hard movies and that is something I'm quite comfortable with. Truthfully, the only reason I wanted to see this one is because of Justin Long. I fell in deep smit with him on the TV Show Ed and that smit only got stronger after Dodgeball. And there you have it.
Personally, I felt this film was a little long but apparently the story line is fact based so that adds a little strength. There is nothing very exciting about watching hackers type on a computer keyboard while streams of code fill a monitor. However, the stunts and shoot 'em up, bang-bang aspects of this movie are quite impressive. I jumped out of my chair more than once. Please, try and hide your shock. All of the actors took themselves quite seriously so that is always a hoot. Come on, you guys. It's Die Hardest. Get over yourselves. I have no idea who uber-serious, jaw clenching, bad guy Timothy Olyphant is but he reminds me of a cross between Josh Duhamel and Johnny Knoxville. I dare you to disagree.
And that's that in a nutshell. Not one of my favorites but we made the bargain-priced matinee so it takes some of the pain away.


I. Love. This. Movie.

TMI Tuesday

Since I had to come into work at 3 a.m. today I am taking the easy road and doing yet another meme. Should you have any interest in such a thing, here's the link.
1. Describe your first kiss.
I was 15, just shy of people actually being able to say "Sweet 16 and never been kissed." It took place after watching Aladdin in Ventura. His name was Aaron and he looked just like a grown up version of that kid from A Christmas Story. Methinks he was in his 20s? "Inappropriate." Our chaste kiss occurred in the parking lot.
2. Should a person's pubic hair be trimmed, shaved, or just grown out as the jungle God intended it to be?
If your personal property resembles King Louis from The Jungle Book, I suggest you consider a trim. Had God intended for us to look like bushmen, why would He have given us razors and scissors? Considering I've hit puberty, I take pride in hair on my nether region but it doesn't need to be braidable. The whole shaved/waxed hairless look is a bit too chomo for me.

3. What's the best super-hero comic book movie ever made?
Personally I am going to have to go with Batman Begins. While I have always been a big fan of Tim Burton's incarnation, this one blew my socks off. Christian Bale as a ninja Batman? Yes, please.

4. Coke or Pepsi?
'Nuff said.
5. Have you ever been caught masturbating?
I am pretty sure I got caught as a wee one but not so much as an adult...
6. Which way do you lean your head when going for a kiss?
I tend to lean to the right. It's been a while. I'm willing to go either way.
7. Jockstraps, sexy or no?
This guy leads me to answer "Hells yes."
Bonus (as in optional): Have you ever used the excuse, "Oh, I was so drunk that night, I don't remember a THING!"
I can proudly say I have never blacked out whilst drinking. My memory is questionable as is, I don't even need to blame it on the booze.


Hetero Life Family

This weekend, HLP invited me along with her familials once again to go camping. This is the same place we went a couple weeks ago that led to the "broken" rib incident after I was flung from a raft onto a lake that felt like it was made of solid concrete. However, that catastrophe apparently did not instill much fear in me as I got right back on that raft again this weekend. I am happy to report I suffered no injuries. Well sort of. I attempted to wake board but I wasn't exactly successful. After about 7 tries I accepted that I had no upper body strength. For the most part, I walked away unscathed but I did wake up with a pretty gnarly bruise on my calf that I am sure is a byproduct of said attempt. Better to walk away with a bruise than to not try at all, right?
What is it about camping that leads one to completely forsake hygiene and lose all self-consciousness? Where else can you walk around in a bathing suit half the day and your pajamas the second half? Deodorant? Optional. Shower? None for me thanks. From about 8 o'clock Friday evening until 9 o'clock last night, this was the life I was leading: sporadic naps, water sports, lounging and delicious eats. And this time I was awake for S'mores! Delicious. There is simply nothing better. I learned my lesson about the sunblock so I have nary a burn on my body. My formerly burnt armpits never did peel but they did leave a lovely dark "stain" beneath each arm. However, my newly golden skin is currently hiding that loveliness.
Summer time and the living's easy, indeed. My muscles are a bit sore this morning but my frame of mind is tremendously overhauled. Last week was rough but even though it's Monday I've got a smile on my face. I got to play with a bunch of wee ones over the weekend and my desire to procreate is at an all-time high. I had mommy status down pat: sunblock and water for the kiddies. The towel wrap-up. The playing of games. The snuggling. Siiigh. Am I too young to consider adoption and/or artificial insemination at the ripe age of 30?