Monday, April 13, 2009

And Sybil Called

Yep. It was just a temporary job for dear Sybil, over with the end of tax season. She was very chatty for 30 mind-numbing minutes today, and I wondered where the Flarp  EB (Easter Bunny) brought had disappeared to - I needed a little quick entertainment! Somehow we managed to segue into the subject of storage space and the lack of in her current home, of five or six years.

Sure. Boring. And you think it couldn't be that bad. Oh, foolish youth, for you are wrong!!! 

We took a wee little 12 mile hike (uphill, both ways) down memory lane to mentally picture and tour each and every one of her former residences and TOGETHER review their more than adequate space. Compared to her house now, there is no comparison; this one's a dud in the storage department. And there is a whole host of other disappointments in this house, though it is large and spaceous with a delightful layout. But there is one problem. WE are building a house... that WE designed... that WE will love... 

and she is not.

Thus she has found renewed fervor in her days of unemployment - torturing me with how much more difficult her life is than, say, anyone else's on the face of this or any planet sustaining life!! And she knows this game well, for she is the Inventor and Perfecter of this game! She owns it, and I do mean OWN!!

I tried one time (OK, like for almost eight or nine years, seriously) to convince Sybil that her life IS so much more blessed than people living in third world countries* with unclean water, children dying from diseases we can immunize against, people dying of starvation and at the hands of merciless guerrilla warriors fighting for their cause at the cost of innocent lives... I'd think (and so would any other reasonable person with a brain and a pulse). But to no avail. She has taken the art of self-pity to an all new level and dwells there daily. There ought to be an award for this.... 

I am not sure where the conversation ended up, as I remembered some pictures I had stored away that I wanted to sort, dug them out, and commenced with sorting. Somehow we ended up talking about #4's recent allergic reaction, and the conversation REALLY took a turn for the worse... yes, it CAN and DID get worse. She began to tell me about these interesting skin allergies she had as a child and adolescent, and even up until she went to college; now, I grew up in very close proximity to Sybil, and I only know of ONE, and I do mean ONE allergy she had - to fluoride - that caused a skin reaction.  But today I learned a most disturbing fact, one that I could have gone the rest of my life without: she apparently had a persistent rash requiring cream. Just gander a guess at where.

I myself have suffered allergies all of my life. I do not exaggerate. I do not remember life without allergy shots, medicine, asthma, puffers, and mostly through childhood, hives... a lot! Detergents gave me rashes. Dry cleaning fluid gave me rashes. Foods gave me hives. Medicines gave me asthma attacks. Everything I breath is still against me. (But let me take this moment to personally thank the makers of Zyrtec, Singulair, and Advair, along with the various nosesprays I use - I LOVE YOU!!!!)  OK, so I was the one with all these problems. Fast forward to now. Amazingly she is the one with the terrible history of allergic and asthmatic problems. Very interesting. History retold by a crazy person - WOW! That could really sell!

So, she discloses to me this secret info about her rash condition, which thank the Good Lord is GONE!! (I'd have had to Lysol the phone!) She says: you probably didn't know about this then.  Uh, what makes you think I want to know about it now?? And how can I believe you?? because so much of what you remember is made up? fairytale? Disney-esque?? I found a way to get off the phone STAT, skin crawling, and ran to wash my hands, my hair,... heck, I deloused myself and everyone else here (even the dog) - can't be too careful!!!!

I have decided to pray that Sybil finds more gainful employment, as that really cuts into her phone time!

PS - I want to take this opportunity to just ' put this out there': within the past two years, someone told me that (apparently this is fact according to them) the people in these *countries want to live this way and are lazy, thus perpetuating their own poverty cycles. I find this theory the rantings of a moron. Anyone disillusioned enough to say this out loud and in public should be subjected to fish slapping a la VeggiTales style (see the Jonah DVD) until they recant, beg forgiveness, and spend time doing mission work in these countries to feed and vaccinate these Children of God. This is my personal opinion; I am not sponsored by anyone for this blog, and I take sole responsibility for not telling said individual this when I heard their ridiculous statement the first time. I know it's risky putting this out there, but really, I feel it needed to be said. Ignorance can be cured one idiot at a time!!!!

Wednesday, April 8, 2009

Extending Circumstances

Today was a real red letter day: I saw the Hair Guru (henceforth to be known as 'The Guru", due to proving his worth in all things hair related, and on the subject of St. Joseph, who is to be buried upside down in your yard). Oh, he does do wonders for a girl and her frolicking springtime locks!!

Per usual, we caught up with one another, and I trusted his expert hands to trim, tame and coif my lustrous mane of curls. When what to my wondering follicles did appear, but three spiraling chestnut extensions, my dear! Glorious, glossy, and glamorous to boot - he fixed them in my hair, and then with a scoot - shooed me out the door!!!

I WAS GIDDY! I WAS DELIGHTFUL! I WAS SIMPLY DIVINE!!!!!!!

I pranced through the rest of my day tossing and stroking my perfectly coiffed curls that now extended nearly TO THE FLOOR! (OK, this might be a slight exaggeration,... but they were long!) Paparazzi popped out from behind parked cars to snap my picture, strangers opened doors and tipped their hats, the sun even shone a bit brighter just on me. My children were obedient, the Hub an absolute dear, and my dear friends expressed undying devotion and loyalty. YES!!!! This is what I was born for!!! All this time, just waiting on the secret to being...

DIVINE

And so I am forced to go on this way.
What a burden to bear - greatness!
Darn you, oh Guru, Darn you to heck!

Oh, and can I come in tomorrow for you to fix my hair???

DISCLAIMER: GRANOLA MAMA KATIE IN NO WAY BELIEVES SHE IS GREAT; ONLY THE HAIR EXTENSIONS. AND THE GURU. AND ON FRIDAYS - DEFINITELY GREAT ON FRIDAYS. AND SOMETIMES ON WEDNESDAY MORNINGS. BUT ONLY SOMETIMES. BUT PRIDE IS IN CHECK. EGO TOO. YEP, IT'S ALL GOOD.





Saturday, April 4, 2009

Are You Being Served?

This was the title of a delightful British comedy years ago, set in department store, but now longer available via PBS, though you can order the complete collection on DVD from the PBC catalog... but this bit of trivial trivia has nothing really to do with what I plan on talking about today.

THis afternoon, the Hub, made one of his now famous statements (famous because I am talking about it now). We had just spent the day attending/ coaching (often from the sidelines... please see previous post about the beast at soccer) two soccer games, spent two hours at the circus (a REAL circus that comes to town every year... not my house around 4:30 on Friday afternoon), when we pulled into our neighborhood amidst complaints from the Masses of extreme hunger; I suggested that he start heating up some leftover Mom's World Famous Spaghetti sauce and pasta, and I'd get the sodas and be right back. Here's the good part... he responded:

Nope. I'm not doin' it. I'm tired of serving them.

WHA-HUHHHHH????????  HE's tired of serving them???? HE????? Are you kidding me???? Last time I checked (which was just this morning), I was the stay-at-home parent; on duty for sick child care, school programs, afternoon marathons, and play dates. I am the one who grocery shops, clothes and shoes shops, cleans, cooks, launders (with help from God's Greatest Blessing), and basically sees to the every need of every one and thing in this house!

In fact, service is my job. And his too. He just doesn't know it. I'm breaking him in slowly... like taking off a band-aid... little by little.  Thank heavens I was on my way to Sonic right after he opened his mouth and inserted his foot, or I would have guffawed in his face!!!!

BUt one more silly comment like that, and I'm changing my 'band-aid' removal approach - RRRRIIIIPPPPP!!!!!! OUCH!