What I Learned While Ringing The Bell

This past weekend employees of my radio station, WOMC, scattered around metro Detroit to man kettles for The Salvation Army. I don't know about you, but when I leave a store I'm A) frequently in a hurry B) usually distracted and C) don't want to be judged so, unless I have specifically planned to donate and have some change or singles at the ready I find myself ducking and running past the Red Kettle and its attendant. I can't afford to donate every single time I walk by a kettle and I'd feel like an idiot saying "I donated yesterday.' But here's what I learned.

1. There's no judging. I could tell when people were avoiding looking at me and let me assure you, there's no need. Sure it's nice when people stop and donate but a smile or even eye contact is just as good.

2. You can tell the Bell Ringer that you've already donated without looking like an idiot. I loved it when people told me; it gave me the chance to say "Thanks for your support. Happy Holidays!"

3. You get lots of different reactions to the question "Would you like a kiss?" Yes, I was handing out Hershey's Kisses. I'm not above bribing people. And yes I did hand out real pecks on the cheek to anyone who was brave enough to ask for one.

Set Straight By My Son

Last night my son and I had to have what I call the Save Yourself talk. I've been giving my daughter this talk for years and it boils down to "when your friends are making bad choices, save yourself." Now, my daughter is a caring girl but my son is really a sensitive soul. And every time I tried to bring my point home he would try and offer an example where he could do the opposite of what I advised.

My last scenario: you're at a party and kids are drinking and your best friend decides to stay. Save yourself.

Son: Can I tell him we should leave?

Me: Yes, but if he makes a bad decision to stay you have to still leave.

Son: What if I see other people I know? Can I tell them they should leave?

Me: Well, yes. Once. But don't wait for anyone. You can't save the world. No one can.

Son: Everybody can, mom, but not everybody will.

Let's Turn Charity Work Into A Competition Shall We?

The staff here at WOMC is teaming up with the Salvation Army and Kroger this weekend and I'm turning it into a competition. So, friends, if you are planning on getting some groceries in the Bloomfield area this weekend please do it on Saturday between 1 pm and 2 pm and bring a few coins to drop in my kettle. My goal is to get that thing so full that it breaks the tripod thingy that holds it up. Ok, maybe not. How about just needing a fresh kettle at 2 p.m. because mine is so. very. stuffed.

Here's the Kroger stores where you can find us on Saturday:

Bobby Mitchell – Maple & Lahser in Bloomefield @ 10:00am

Stacey DuFord – Maple & Lahser in Bloomfield @ 1:00pm

Bob Schuman – Garfield & Canal in Clinton Twp @ 1:00pm

Jim Johnson – Maple & Lahser in Bloomfield @ 12:00pm

Beau Daniels – Carpenter Rd in Ypsilanti @ 9:00a

Dave Fuller – Eureka Rd in Southgate @ 2:00pm

Boogie Brian – Dix & Southfield in Lincoln Park @ 12:00pm

Other Staff Locations & Times:

Lisa Thorn – Canton Center Rd in Canton @ 1:00pm

Leslee Faulkner – Canton Center Rd. in Canton @ 11:00am

Kimberly Hard – Crescent Lake & Highland Rd in Waterford @ 1:00pm

Jean Harding – 23 & Hayes @ 10:00am

Rhonda Brooks - 8 Mile & Farmington in Livonia @ 1:00pm

Tony Prainito – 13 & Woodward in Royal Oak @ 8:00am

Sara Finlayson – 8 Mile & Pontiac Trail in South Lyon @ 11:00am

Laura Robinson – 18 Mile & Dequindre in Sterling Heights @ 7:00am

Scott Buie – 6 Mile & Haggerty in Northville @ 10:00am

Oliver Wolcott – Ann Arbor & Sheldon in Plymouth @ 11:00am

Maureen Barkume – 13 & Woodward in Royal Oak @ 9:00am

Donna Autry – Lapeer Rd & Indian Wood in Lake Orion @ 11:00am

Suzanne Belanger – 8 Mile & Pontiac Trail in South Lyon @ 1:00pm

My Apologies To The Meter Reader

I ran home yesterday to fit in a workout before a busy afternoon. I decided I didn't have enough time (i.e. too lazy) to run so I decided to pull up a workout video from On Demand and work on my abs. I took off my clothes then thought "I'm in my bedroom. I'm home alone. Why bother putting on another set of clothes that I'm just going to have to take right off?" and proceeded to complete the 12-minute ab video in just my underwear.

It wasn't until I was halfway through the 18-minute kickboxing video that I looked outside and saw the woman with the clipboard in my backyard.

I'm going to choose to continue to believe that she didn't see me, that her eyebrows are naturally that high, and that her eyes are always that big.

Halloween

We went to a Halloween party last night and my son's costume is Santa Claus this year. It's pretty hilarious. Especially when we walked into a room set up as an evil lab with a Frankenstein-like robot monster chopping away at an alien-like corpse to the sounds of eerie music and flashing purple strobe lights. We stood there for a moment, then a kid popped out from under the table - "Boo!" - to frighten us. My son didn't miss a beat.

"Looks like someone's on the naughty list this year."

Too Exhausted To Be Distracted

I know.

I have a responsibility to keep writing despite my exhaustion.

But I don't feel witty or clever.

Not that I normally feel witty and clever.

Bu right now

I feel negative witty and clever.

And so,

to my eight loyal readers,

I apologize

for my lack of presence

and this shabby near-poem.

Please check back once school starts.

I. Love. September.

Concerts and Construction

You might want to avoid me.

You see, I found out a few weeks ago that I will be on stage helping to introduce Steve Miller for the Woodward Dream Cruise Benefit Concert on August 7 and even though I've been (mostly) vegan for two years now I have managed to hang on to every pound from my meat-and-cheese eating days by overindulging in things like avocado and (especially) french fries.

Mmmmmmm, french fries.

Sorry. So I quit eating fried food (ALL fried food) two weeks ago in an effort to not embarrass myself in front of the Steve Miller crowd and, really, I feel like it's only fair that I should have dropped about five pounds by now but even though I haven't really weighed myself I don't think I've lost ANY weight so I'm trying to exercise more so now I'm sore and craving french fries and generally just miserable to be around.

And even though I'm crowd-phobic I like my husband so I accompanied him to two concerts this weekend. We saw Cheap Trick on Friday night at the Motor City Sound Board and Steely Dan last night at The Fox and while both shows were GREAT I was reminded of my eventual plan to run for public office on the platform of public seating by head size and, ladies, if you are trying to compensate for being short or having a small head by wearing extra large hair the hair WILL be measured and counted and you will be moved back a few rows and, men, neck size WILL be included because sometimes I can sit behind a tall, large-headed man and manage to find some kind of viewing area in that space between his head and shoulders but not if he has an extra thick neck or, basically, no neck at all where the head just goes straight down to the shoulders like there's a large square just sitting on top of his body and I know I put "construction" in the title of this post but I'm already all worked up over the lack of grease and sight lines in my life and if I even THINK about how everything in this project is costing twice as much as estimated and how people are asking me questions about something that we already had a 45-minute discussion about my head is going to spin completely around and my eyes will shoot fire.

Oh! Speaking of too-big hair. We rain into some friends before the show last night and they pointed out a REAL LIFE MARGE SIMPSON walking down the street and then sent me a pic: it's actually making me feel less grouchy. Thank you Allyson!

P.S. Once I'm elected this woman, no matter how fun she is to spot on the street, will always be seated in the back. For obvious reasons.

I Made A T-Shirt!

I designed the Gratiot Happens shirt for Bobby Mitchell - but you can order one too!




make custom gifts at Zazzle

Dear Real Housewives Franchise:

As much as I am a proponent of showing that sex is not limited to A) the young and B) the beautiful and that people who have been married for longer than 20 years still manage to have sex lives, if I have to see one more of your skanky, vacuous housewives A) wearing lingerie B) talking dirty to her husband or C) talking dirty to her husband while wearing lingerie I plan to direct my inevitable stream of vomit into a Ziploc Plastic Bag and mail it to your production office.

Sincerely,

Stacey

Deadly Pistachios

We ended up in the ER last Thursday night after I made my son try pistachios for the first time. Apparently he is violently allergic. We now join other parents as the owners of no less than three Epi Pens and are now enrolled in Label Reading 101 and Remedial Foods That May Be Made With Or Contain Traces of Tree Nuts.

Most everyone I know is surprised that my son has made it to the age of 10 1/2 without us finding out about this allergy. I'm not at all. He's always been a VERY picky eater and, as he is the second child and life must go on, I am frequently the Bad Mom who just lets him get away with not eating something rather than sitting at the dinner table for another four hours (though, usually, not without first threatening to feed him whatever he is ignoring for breakfast). Also, I have never forgotten an incident from my childhood when my brother (who was - and still is - allergic to a LOT of stuff including pistachios how did I not know this?) was forced to eat fish - which he always avoided because he "didn't like it." My father and grandfather had fished all day and my mom and grandma had gutted and cooked all evening and the men insisted that my brother try the fish, which he tearfully did, and then I remember being woken up from my bed on the couch when my parents had to rush my wheezing, puking brother to the hospital.

I realize that some kids (mine) need to be coerced into trying new foods but I've also kept that story in the back of my head and if one of my kids really really doesn't want something I usually don't force it. I believe that kids (like animals in the wild) avoid foods that are naturally dangerous to them.

Now, in my defense, my son eats Nutella (made from hazelnuts) nearly every day, eats peanut butter, and occasionally eats almonds. So when I offered him the pistachios last week I had no idea that he would end up being so allergic. I had no idea that you could be allergic to some tree nuts and not others. I had no idea that I am such a bad mom.

My Plan To Become The Most Hated Cub Scout Mom (If I'm Not Already)

After dinner last night I told my son to put his dishes in the dishwasher and he said "I was going to go get some cake." We still have leftover cake from my daughter's birthday in the fridge and I thought he would bring back the entire plate of cake, but no, he walked in carrying a fist full of cake which he then proceeded to shove in his mouth.

Now, I recently learned that my good friend Wendy, of Style Coach Studio, has become a Certified Etiquette Instructor so I announced at the table that I would be enlisting her services for a Cub Scout meeting in the fall because, really, most of those 10-year old boys could use someone telling them how to be a little more polite.

Or maybe it's just my kid. Maybe I'm the only mother with a kid shoving cake in his mouth. Perhaps not only the Cub Scouts will hate me, but their mothers as well.

Is there some kind of badge available for politeness? There should be.

Proof That My Husband And I Don't Need To Be In The Same Room Or Even On The Phone To Argue (An Email Exchange)

Me: That email address doesn't work.

Him: Well I can't help then.

Me: I found one, thanks. (The "thanks" is totally sarcastic)

Him: Are you sure your ok if beau & I go to fl. july 4 wkend? Just remembered anniversary.

Me: You JUST remembered our Anniversary? Of course I'm fine. Go. (Note: I did not even point out that I'm being a martyr here)

Him: I DID remember a towel for Beau today.

Me: That's MUCH more important than remembering our Anniversary. (More sarcasm) And I happen to know that Alicia left you a note re: the towel.

Him: Yeah, well.

Help Yourself To My Mantra

Having achieving the age of 40-ahem and hoping that I've learned something and tired of being at the mercy of my emotions when I get upset at things I can't control I have started to live by a new mantra: What should I be doing? If things aren't going right, or if I hit a roadblock, or if the world just seems to be saying No! I say "Fine, World, what should I be doing?" Because if I'm getting a face full of No! I obviously should be doing something different than what I am doing at the moment in time.

This has actually worked pretty well. I feel a little calmer, a little more in control. I have accepted that I am a hyper-control freak but am learning when to stop trying to hyper-control something and move on to hyper-control something else. That, my friends, is progress.

But lately I feel thwarted.

Thwarted isn't quite the same as No! Thwarted is "Sure, you can do this, but not like you hoped/planned/started" and I am starting to dislike Thwarted as much as I dislike No! Especially when everything is getting Thwarted all at once. And I don't know if I need to apply my mantra to being Thwarted. Or even if I can. Thwarted is not the same as No! It's just....irksome. And I don't like being irked.

If fact, maybe that will be my new mantra. I think I'll get it on a shirt.

Don't Irk Me.

Though Don't Irk Me Around has a better ring to it, no?

The Planet Hollywood Hotel in Las Vegas Has Made Me Very Happy For The Second Time in 2011

I told you about our trip to Las Vegas and how judgmental I was and how I should be more ashamed that I let my husband talk me into taking the kids because now it's my 10 year old son's favorite vacation destination and that is just wrong, though I may have neglected to mention how very much I enjoyed the Planet Hollywood Hotel (A. It is attached to the mall B. Great Mexican restaurant C. AWESOME spa) but, sometimes, it's the little things. Like the Planet Hollywood pen with rhinestones that I brought home from our room then started using at work because it's just a great pen (A. Comfortable B. Writes well C. RHINESTONES!) and I was bummed when it ran out of ink a few days later so I sent the lovely people at Planet Hollywood an email about how very much I loved the pen and GUESS WHAT I got in the mail today?

A whole stash of them! (The bunny sticker is courtesy of Bobby Mitchell).

Dear Levi's

Dear Levi's,

Please tell me that, no matter what my daughter says, you are not "mom jeans."

Love,

Stacey

Purse Love

I've already detailed my love for purses here, and was SO excited to get my new Julie Lindsay Gold Messenger bag yesterday but now I need it to act like Spring outside because I am carrying my new Spring/Summer bag no matter the weather but am sure it would go better with some strappy sandals or my cute gold Tommy Hilfiger tennis shoes (that I SCORED for next to nothing at T. J. Maxx - it's fate!).

If you are a pursianado like I am (like that word? I just made it up!) then you need to check out all of Julie's bags. I first fell in lust with the Paris Tote that belongs to my friend Karen Buscemi and then saw Julie's bags featured in Fashion in Detroit. They are fabulous!

Come on Spring!

Pleased And Irked in the Very Same Place

I had to pick up several gifts this evening so I stopped at Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory in Somerset (because who doesn't like a large, decadent, chocolate-and-stuff covered apple?). I also asked for some chocolate-covered orange peel and when the delightful young gentleman reached to get them there were only about five pieces left so he asked the other young gentleman (Note: Rocky Mountain has hired some cute young men to work on Friday night which shall be called Cougar night from now on - that's just bad, isn't it?) if there were any more and I said "Those are fine. That way no one (meaning me) can get out of control." and not only did he laugh at my little joke but said "I'm not going to charge you for these then." (further cementing Friday nights at Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory as Cougar night - oh COME ON!) and I said something old-ladyish like "Aren't you a dear? Thanks!" (further cementing the fact that I will never be able to pull off the Cougar thing).

THEN I went to Customer Service for Somerset and asked for a gift card and they charged me a $2 fee.

Really?

Basically, when I'm buying a gift card I'm telling the recipient that they MUST shop at Somerset. I'm CHOOSING to send people to Somerset to shop. And I get charged for this? And yes, I realize that if I'm getting a gift card at Somerset I can probably afford the $2 but that is not the point. Somerset, you are lucky that tonight I was A) in a hurry and B) awake since 3:20 a.m. and didn't feel like driving to 12 Oaks or Home Depot or ANY other store that has gift cards and please note, Somerset, that I will NEVER buy gift cards from you again as long as you are charging for them.

Tsk. Tsk.

Nap Time Dreams Are The Worst

I'm still catching up on sleep after my weekend trip to the Bahamas for work. Please don't stop reading. I really did work. But I tried to get by on as little sleep as possible so I could have as much fun (documented for work) as possible and work and only barely pulled it off.

Anyway, I had time to sneak in a nap today but dreamed that I was about to kiss that guy from The Monkees with no chin. I think it's Peter. We were in a helicopter and when he started kissing me I dream-thought 'This is exactly how I thought a guy with no chin would kiss!' and I couldn't stop kissing him even though I was totally grossed out.

And now you're totally grossed out too.

I Am NOT Complaining About Work I Am Complaining About All The Stupid Stuff I Used To Do When I Wasn't Working Full-Time

Now that I am working full-time again I am really busy and important. OK, I'm really busy. OK, I have less time to read amusing, well-written blogs and watch Reality TV. Like right now I am being forced to choose between reading ALL the Royal Wedding coverage on Go Fug Yourself or watching the DVRd episode (SPOILER ALERT: (for me, too, so don't get antsy) that President Obama ruined the ending of by announcing the death of Osama Bin Laden) (OK, I didn't realize that was TWO Spoiler Alerts in case you've been living in a cave and didn't know Bin Laden was dead. Get it?) of Celebrity Apprentice.

AND I still haven't worked out today.

But Daughter got to skating and Son is at baseball and everyone had dinner and lunches are made for tomorrow so I'm calling it a wash. And I don't want to say that I wasted time when I wasn't working. It didn't feel wasted. Everything I read/followed/obsessed over kept me up-to-date and entertained which, I'm sure, helped me land this job in the first place. or, at least, kept me up-to-date and entertained. But I could really use about 2.3 more hours in the day.

I'm An Agent, Or a Pimp. How Do I Tell?

Even though I no longer have time to work as an Extra on the few movie projects in our State I still get all the emails and recently forwarded one to my niece because they were looking for a baby and ... she has one. She called me yesterday to tell me that Noah got the part! And he'll be playing a girl!

Eight weeks old and he's already a better actor than I am. Sigh.

Driver's Ed

Let me be clear, I am a BIG FAN of all the new rules, instruction, and restrictions on teens driving. I don't really want to be on the road with crazy kid drivers. I don't want to be in the car with them either. Which brings me to this week.

My daughter gave me the brochure to sign her up for Segment II of Driving School. She took Segment I last summer and needed 30 hours of driving with a parent to be eligible to take Segment II. I don't have a problem with this; practice makes perfect. And I don't recall driving with my parents much when I had my Permit. I only remember my dad occasionally letting me drive the family the 1 1/2 miles home from church with a big grin on his face like I was a monkey who learned how to type. Then I got my license and was set loose on the unsuspecting drivers of the Flint area.

Anyway, the description for Segment II says it is 6 hours of lecture based on defensive driving. SO, my husband and I have just spent 30 hours in the car with our daughter WHO HAS NO DEFENSIVE DRIVING SKILLS!

I had already suspected this. She's somewhat cautious, but not in a watching-out-for-other-drivers kind of way. More like I-hope-I-remember-how-to-do-this. I'm suspicious that the Driving School people are joining up with the population control folks. And I'm very glad that I made my husband do most of the Permit passengering. He has more life insurance.

Las Vegas

I am a Judger. Especially of other parents. So I suppose it was inevitable that I eventually give in to my husband and agree to let the children join us on a trip to Las Vegas. We took them indoor skydiving (the unathletic Boy being the best indoor skydiver, go figure), sat in the Poncho Section (2nd row) at Blue Man Group, and accidentally (because you can't help it once you're there) exposed them to every tacky and sleazy thing Las Vegas has to offer. Sigh. But because I am a Judger I can't resist adding AT LEAST THEY WEREN'T IN STROLLERS because, really, a stroller in Las Vegas? That's just annoying to me AND your toddler. I'm trying to pick out the funniest thing I overheard/experienced/saw while we were there. I'm torn between: A) The guy who started chatting us up in the elevator and asked what floor we were staying on then replied, "22. You're practically in the sky." B) The guy we saw walking out of the Luxor talking on his cellphone and saying "I just got kicked out of the Luxor.....for life!" And, because I judge myself as harshly as I judge others: C) "Beau, stop staring at giant girl on the giant stripper pole." "I was looking at the hats. I didn't even see the giant girl on the giant stripper pole until you pointed it out." Sigh. Again.

Take As Needed

Today I am giving a cat pain medication as needed. How am I supposed to know when it's needed? He's got a drain in his newly sutured tail and a cone on his head and he's locked in the laundry room. I'm thinking he needs pain meds all the time. Supposedly the medicine tastes terrible but he sucked down the last dose like it was mouse-flavored. Perhaps I waited too long but how am I supposed to distinguish a "pain" meow from a "I'm being a pain-in-the-ass" meow? And I just talked to the Vet who informed me that once or twice a day we need to twist the drain so it doesn't develop a scab. Great. I'm giving those pain meds about 15 minutes to kick in before I attempt that maneuver. And then I'm taking my own pain meds (i.e. glass of wine).

Perhaps I Shouldn't Eat Potato Chips and Mini Eggs For Dinner (Or Watch Celebrity Apprentice)

Last night I had the freakiest dream; I was in labor and Dionne Warwick was my OB-GYN and not only was she mean, but in my dream she was a little bit drunk too and I really didn't want her to deliver my baby (BTW I am NOT pregnant) and my labor wouldn't progress so I got up to walk around and I ended up in a bar/bowling alley owned by Brian Elias, the Hansons guy, and Matt Damon and Ben Affleck were working the bar and trying to get me to drink a beer with them and I said "I can't have a beer, I'm in labor!" but I really wanted the beer because I knew I would need all the courage I could find to face Dionne Warwick again and luckily (?) I had to get up for work before I had the dream baby but I woke up exhausted and a little bit terrified that a drunk Dionne Warwick with a stethoscope was going to show up and give me an epidural.

I Am A MUCH Better Fake Secret Service Agent Than My Husband

My son is giving his African-American History Month presentation on Wednesday...as Barack Obama. He has to speak in the first person. He has to be the President. I bought him a little suit (we DO have a wedding coming up) and a blue tie (Obama's favorite color) and my husband suggested that he get a few of his friends to act like Secret Service agents when he walks in. His teacher suggested that maybe one of his parents do it (which is why I LOVE his teacher) and my husband is free on Wednesday while I may be serving jury duty (which is nearly the same, citizenship-wise, as pretending to be a Secret Service agent). But at the beginning of the practice presentation my husband scurried into the room and talked into his cellphone so I showed him how the Secret Service really acts (I went back to the Albion College commencement the year that George Bush gave the address. There were Secret Service agents everywhere trying to look like yuppie parents and not. pulling. it. off. I've had firsthand experience). I strolled in casually yet purposefully, opened a door to make sure there were no assassins hiding in the garage, then said into my fake cuff link/microphone "The coast is clear."

I was SO impressive that my son thinks we should move to Washington D.C. so I can get a job with the real Secret Service and, while that sounds fun, I just landed a full-time gig and don't really feel like taking a bullet. Sorry, America.

My Kids (And Did I Mention That I'm Glad I'm Not A Guy?)

I try to pretend that I'm not a big sap about my kids but, really, I am. It's just us this weekend, as Hubby is away at his annual golf outing, and I've spent the weekend nagging Son about finishing up a big project and watched as Daughter relocated herself in the basement away from all the distractions that her room and its plethora of technology has to offer to study for finals.

I've also been fortunate enough to watch Son give Daughter darling little pep talks when she didn't want to force herself into the basement ("Don't you want colleges to keep sending you letters? They don't send you letters because you're dumb and you don't study!") and watch Daughter help Son with his Black History Month (wasn't that last month? Yet, here we are) project.

And they got SO excited when I ordered pizza for dinner and didn't make them eat any vegetables with it. They even chanted "Fun Mom! Fun Mom!" and what more could a hard-ass mom ask? It's nice to be the Fun Mom every once in a while. I'm usually the one riding them about homework and work ethic and civic responsibility and I have to admit that it's good to be the sugar-feeder occasionally.

And speaking of AND....Hubby called this morning to tell me that they had to take one member of their golfing quartet to the hospital because he has a kidney stone and, while I assumed that he was in the waiting room or heading back to the hotel for some rest, he informed me that the rest of them were heading to the golf course to play 18 holes! Because they could still make their tee time! Hospital Guy, who would apparently never know the difference because he was on a morphine drip, was left on his own. If the 3/4 Crew had left MY husband alone in a strange hospital in a strange city with strangers administering narcotics I would not be pleased. Is this what guys do?

Although, if he was given enough morphine they could probably tell him that he DID golf on Saturday and that he lost and owes each of them $50 for a bet over a missed putt. If I was a guy that's what I'd do. Because if you're gonna be a guy you might as well take it all the way.

Stop Taunting Me With The Temperature!

My husband is leaving for his annual golf trip in a few days and THIS is what I've been hearing at least twice a day for the last week:

"Don't worry! I just checked and the temperature in Phoenix is 85 degrees! Not a cloud in the sky!"

That's lovely, dear, and I hope that the large, spiky, metal object filled with over four ounces of unidentifiable fluid that I plan to hide in your suitcase doesn't keep you from missing your flight.

Love you!!

I also just happened to glance at the top row of my Internet Explorer which I never look at because, generally, when I open Internet Explorer it is NOT to explore but to go exactly where I want to go and for some reason, perhaps it is in cahoots with my husband, Internet Explorer is informing me that it is currently 79 degrees in Richardson, Texas and if I hear one more warm and sunny weather report for a city that I don't get to visit I am GOING TO SNAP!

Consider yourselves warned.

Work

Yes, boys and girls, Today's Distraction is an old-fashioned, punch-in-at-4 a.m.-punch-out-at-noon job. Which I am very grateful for. I'm filling in this week on the Bobby Mitchell Show with Chuck Gaidica on 104.3 WOMC (and thank God they don't make me say that whole title every time I do a traffic report) and I'm working with some lovely gentlemen and get to see some old friends and coworkers again so it's alllllllllll good.

I was going to say "however" but there really is no "however." Sure, my marathon training and my reality TV watching time have suffered, but so what? I'll find a way to work them back in. Other people do it, right? Maybe not at the same time. Maybe you CAN'T Keep Up With The Kardashians (I really only wrote that because of the alliteration, I would NEVER watch that show) and attempt to train for a marathon at the same time. Especially when you're (ahem) over 40. Maybe I won't be able to keep up my amazing ability to make dinner AND the next day's lunches AT THE SAME TIME. Maybe this job won't last longer than this week. Whatever happens, I'm good. Sure, I may be a little more sleepy and a little more flabby and not up to speed on which Housewife isn't speaking to the other Housewives but I'll bounce back. I'm still (ahem) young.

Though if you really want me to remember something make sure I write it down. Otherwise......gone.

A Purse for Don and Angela Hospice

Today I had lunch with my friend Don Tanner and I gave him a purse.

He's not going to keep the purse. The purse is part of Laughter Lifts You Up for Angela Hospice.

Hopefully you clicked on the links and read all about the event and the great work that Angela Hospice does so I can tell you about the purse. Because I know I'm not a big enough "celebrity" that anyone would really want my purse. But it's a great purse.

I spend money on purses. I like purses. I buy a purse and I carry it EVERY SINGLE DAY so it has to be durable and look good and go with everything.

And this purse. This purse is really special.

I found it right before I found out that my children's book, The Fairy Painting, was going to be published. But I wasn't working then and the purse cost several. hundred. dollars. (I told you I spend money on purses) and I'm just not the type of woman to go out and blow the grocery budget on a Cole Haan purse no matter how cute it is or how much I want it or how long it's been since I had bought anything for myself and did I mention that it had been a long time since I had bought anything for myself?

Anyway, when Mackinac Island Press told me they were sending me an advance for my book I started dating this white-with-green-trim-goes-with-everything-perfect-Cole Haan bag. I'd go visit it at Parisian every couple days and when the check finally arrived I could hardly wait to deposit that sucker and get my butt to Livonia and buy that purse and I carried it every single day for at least a year and then, yes, I did move on to another bag but then I loaned it to my darling niece for a couple months while she was job-hunting and then used it occasionally after she returned it and I can only HOPE that someone bids on my purse for the swag but then realizes what a covertly awesome bag it is and carries it every day with pride and when someone compliments her on it says with complete confidence "What? This old thing?"

I also hope it has the best swag.

And I hope you support Angela Hospice. It's a wonderful organization. They do such great work and have the most amazing people and I know that I would never be capable of doing what they do. All I can do is spend too much money on purses so they're available for auctions.

Bid away.

I'm Pretty Sure That's Against The Law

I just got an email from Restoration Hardware that says "The Baby and Child Upholstery Event Has Begun!" and WHY are they upholstering babies and children? That seems cruel and unusual and probably against the law.

I'm thinking that Restoration Hardware needs a new Social Media/Marketing person or a new Event Planner. Or maybe both. Either way I'm tempted to show up at the mall and see what is ACTUALLY going on and maybe they did this on purpose knowing that my curiosity would get the better of me and I would have to show up and see what size needle they use to upholster a baby.

Well played, Restoration Hardware.

Goodbye

When you're a kid and you are hanging out with your cousins and your aunt and uncle are the boss of you pretty much the same as your parents you don't think about growing up and, not really growing apart but losing that day-to-day sense of family that you have felt since you were born, then eventually only seeing them at events like weddings or graduations or vacations because they have moved far away; and, you-the-kid, you certainly don't look ahead to the day when you might lose one of them and find yourself wondering if you let your Aunt know that you know you took her for granted when you were a kid but that when you grew up you realized just how amazing and kind and talented and real she really was and that you also know that part of the reason you are the person you are today is because of her influence when you were young and you are so very grateful to have had her for an aunt even though you know you were terrible at letting her know.

This Is The Problem With Generic Products - No Marketing (Updated)

Every time I see this picture on the package of generic sandwich bags I shudder because doesn't it look like the sandwich is trying to escape from death by suffocation? It's so disturbing. They may as well print "We Guarantee Your Sandwich Will Be Dead By Lunch Time" on the box. Or maybe that's inferred. Or maybe I accidentally bought Kevorkian-brand sandwich bags thinking they were generic. Either way, I've had this box for about two years now because I get so disturbed looking at the picture that after a few days I buy a new package of non-murderous sandwich bags and throw this package in the bottom drawer "for emergencies" and I'm obviously out of sandwich bags and don't want to go to the store today because it's cold AND it's supposed to snow some more but I'm going to have to go because if I have to open up the drawer and see that picture one more day I may get homicidal.

I did it. Went to the grocery store and stood in the Foils and Bags aisle whistling like an idiot waiting for it to clear out so I could take a picture of a happier package of plastic bags (which I DID purchase) and don't those Cheez-Its looks so happy and relaxed like "We're so happy, we can breeeeeeeathe! Look! Charlie's going for a ride! Whee! Wait a minute! Oh My God, Charlie! Charliiiiiiiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeee! For the love of God someone's eaten Charlie!"

OK, so I guess there's not a happy ending for anything that ends up in a plastic sandwich bag, but I still don't need to see it telegraphed on the package.

Serial Abductors Who Lose Their Cell Phones On Purpose

On Sunday we found a cell phone in the parking lot at Beverly Park and after asking all the high school hockey-playing boys if it belonged to any of them and finding out that it didn't we took it home and started calling random numbers to try and find the owner (People - I'm not a fan of that ICE in case of emergency listing either but how about a Home or Wife/Husband listing in case you lose your phone!) and I finally reached someone who could confirm the number so we knew WHO's phone we had but we couldn't get in touch with him because....we had his phone; then we accidentally found his email address somehow and I sent him an email and while I was at work Sunday night a foreign woman claiming to be his wife called the cell phone but my husband couldn't really understand her so then on Monday Phone Owner called me and said he was in downtown Birmingham and I told him I'd meet him at the library but decided to text my husband where I was going and why in case this guy loses his phone on purpose only to have unsuspecting women return it to him so he can abduct them and if I disappeared I wanted someone to know that the last place I was seen was at the library.

Obviously I was not abducted and when I told my husband and children why I sent the text they gave me that just-nod-and-smile-but-don't-get-too-close-to-mom look as if that could never happen.

I Am Too Busy To Even Know How I Feel

One of my least favorite things about being a girl is all the different doctors. There's the regular doctor, and THAT doctor, and since THAT doctor scraped out the inside of my uterus five years ago I have to go see a You're Getting Old Doctor because I don't have any way of gauging what's going on inside except for my exhaustion level which is always pretty much on Over.

Today was a visit with THAT doctor and I had to fill him in on all the stuff I found out from the You're Getting Old Doctor and that I'm now taking thyroid medicine and Vitamin D because my body refuses to manufacture enough of either of those things (except, I guess, my body doesn't really manufacture thyroid, it's the thyroid that is supposed to do the manufacturing and like most small factories in the state of Michigan it has closed up shop. I blame the economy.) and THAT doctor asked me how I was feeling and I said "Well, I started the medication right before Christmas break and it was my son's birthday and I've been working more than usual because I'm the fill-in person and then the cat died so I could be feeling great but I have no way of knowing."

Then he gave me a weird look and offered me a B12 shot which I think is doctor-speak for "Please leave my office."