Supporting Your Spouse

Friends, if you’re married it’s your job to support your spouse in all things. Follow my lead:

Chaos Boy called me yesterday freaking out because he thought a course he’s teaching began next week (it doesn’t) and he still doesn’t have the textbook from the university. The admin at the school in charge of getting him a book isn’t even sure they have one to send him. It’s about a $200 book. “Do I order a used one? Rent one?” 

Here’s where Supportive Danger Puppy stepped in: “Stop acting poor! Order a fucking new book. And please, sir, soothe thine mammaries!”

That’s right. I told him to calm his tits.


Frankly, I’m Fucking Exhausted

It’s the most wonderful time of the year…if “wonderful” is synonymous with “exhausting.” 

We’ve been to parties. Soirées. Luncheons. We’ve shopped. Cooked. Had Christmas with our kids. 

And we’ve worried. We’ve worried because Winky the House Elf had to fly to Oklahoma today to spend Christmas with her father. Oklahoma…where an ice storm began yesterday. 

When my girl flies alone in the winter I book her tickets far enough in advance to chose the connecting city. Winter = Phoenix. That part was handled months ago. That at least eliminates part of the problem since Phoenix isn’t super likely to get winter weather and has lots of flights back to San Diego in case Winky gets stopped there and can’t go further. (Renting a hotel room isn’t exactly an option when you’re fifteen.) 

We were at the airport exactly 2 hours before her flight. Things looked really good when we got there. The parking lot was nowhere near full, and there was hardly a line at security. (That picture was drastically different when we left a couple of hours later.) Naturally, the Winkster had to bring a gigantic bag, so it had to be checked. In spite of having her boarding passes printed out she had to use the full service lane instead of express so that Chaos Boy and I could get escort passes. (This was at the suggestion of the airline. Chaos Boy had called them last night about our weather concerns and what our options would be if flights were cancelled.) 

The full service line was long, but I’ve definitely seen it longer. We settled in to wait. And people watch. Because that’s our favorite family pastime. Naturally there was a woman in front of us in line with a preschool aged child and four bags. Every time the line moved the woman would move two of the bags and leave the tiny child behind to move the others. Every. Fucking. Time. 

It took us about 45 minutes to get to the front of the line. And that’s when we were heroes.

The ditz with the kid and the 4 bags was up next and headed for an open kiosk with her two bags. And left her damn kid trailing behind wrestling with the other bags. Mother of the year was busily tapping on the kiosk with her back to the poor little matchgirl wrestling an alligator (or a big green suitcase) when another family came barrel through with a luggage cart. Pushed by a child. 

So here we have the scene: luggage cart kid is hot on the heels of suitcase girl without room to pass. Dipshit mom is still tapping at the kiosk and has never turned around. Instead of asking mom for help, SG just keeps struggling and is at a full stop in front of LCK. That’s when LCK’s dad walks around him and the cart, grabs the alligator from SG and moves it. And. Just. Keeps. Walking.

That’s right! He walked away with the suitcase, and LCK just followed him, as did LCK’s mom. And SG? Didn’t say a word. And her mother? Still just tapping away. 

This is where Chaos Boy and I stunned a couple hundred people into silence by shouting, “Hey! That’s not your bag!” Damn straight. Because that’s what heroes do.

I’m honestly not sure what was on that man’s mind. I’m guess he was just late and frazzled and didn’t realize what he’d done. Dipshit mom thanked us (but not as profusely as I’d have thanked someone). But the best part of it all was when Winky took out her headphones and asked, “What just happened?”

Ah, teenagers. Not a care in the world.

She got to Oklahoma just fine. Now I need a fucking nap.

Traditionally Non-Traditional

The time since Thanksgiving has been much of a muchness. We’ve had parties to attend. Outfits to sew (and alter…and fuck up…and alter again). Training to attend. Jury duty. Christmas with out kids. It’s been a bit of a whirlwind.

We bought new furniture. And new cars. And managed to score the gifts our daughters wanted most. (Our eldest who is nearly 20 told us the Naked 3 Urban Decay palette she got would make her “the coolest kid on the block”!)

We’ve had semi-traditional desserts. (Pumpkin cake totally counts!) And not even remotely traditional meals. (We love smoked bratwurst. So sue us!) We didn’t put up a tree, but we don’t even care.

When December 25th rolls around Chaos Boy and I will wake up for the first time in many, many years with no children in the house. Winky the House Elf has big travel plans, and she is the last child at home. 

So what are our plans? We have reservations for a nice dinner out on Christmas Eve. On the 25th I’ll give Chaos Boy something he’s wanted that cost me a whopping $15. (You were paying attention to the bit about furniture and cars, right?) If he can muster some trickery I’m sure he’ll get me a little something as well. We’ll drink mimosas like we always do and lounge around in our jammies until we feel like getting dressed. Because we’re fucking grown-ups, that’s why. We’ll spend the day at the movies with our eldest child provided she doesn’t have to work. Because we can. And it will be perfect.

What will we eat that day? I solemnly swear to cook nothing more complicated than a tuna salad sandwich.

Hide & Don’t Seek

I’m often curious whether others operate the way I do on Facebook. I’m not someone who has a lot of friends in life or on FB. Basically, I don’t like very many people enough to devote any energy to them. I have a whopping 43 FB friends to Chaos Boy’s 84 (31 mutual). Trust me when I say that if you’ve made the FB cut with me, I truly value you in some way. But…

I hide people from my news feed. There aren’t many. Let’s face it: there aren’t many friends to choose from. But there are a few whose drivel I just can’t abide. The fastest way to get me to hide you is to be what I consider too political. If you use your FB almost exclusively as a stump from which to shout your political agenda, you might as well be in the back of Grandma’s shed waiting for me to come find you. Never. Gonna. Happen. 

Another was to get sent into the ether is to only post a few (or fewer) times a month. You have to be bitching about something. No exceptions: you will be hidden.


Now, here’s the thing: unless you are some type of FB ninja you’ll never realize I’ve hidden you. I mean, we don’t all read everything everyone posts all the time. I’m sure I just missed that thinly veiled status that was directed at me. I’m kind of obtuse after all. 

Bleak Friday

Check out this “news” story:

Bleak Friday

There are a lot of things about being from this country that embarrass me. But people fighting over luxuries disguised as bargains is near the top of the list. Wouldn’t it be amazing if these people were fighting to give just some of their extra money so that others can have a proper meal? Or a home? Imagine having so many people wanting to give that there wasn’t room for all of them. People so willing to help that they would go out in the middle of the night to do it.

I wonder whether that would even make the news.