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.