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.