D'oh!

It's been over a week since I've posted...time flies.

So, I've been thinking about friendship, new and old, and how much I love it. That sounds sappy. Luckily, I don't care. I seriously don't care if I sound sappy or Pollyana-ish or, or any other metaphor you can come up with that, obviously, I cannot. Friendship is everything.

And by everything I mean, everything. I have different friends, I have friends since birth (literally--we were introduced at birth) since junior high school, since high school (lost and found) since moving to Rhode Island and back to Minnesota, since working at the library, and since I've been on line. And they all fill a certain need--or want--or empty place--or whatever.

You know what I mean.

My husband is my friend, but seriously, do you think he wants to talk cute shoes...or for that matter other cute dads at the school carnival--I think not. He doesn't even want to talk about books. Sheesh. Some friends fill many needs, some just a few. All are important.

All are important.

During my first marriage, I felt as if I had few friends. My long time friend Jeanne was one and if you can count my sister Patty, I had two. I was cut off, I won't blame it on him, because, no matter what, I allowed it. That felt yucky to say.

But now, I feel as if I am a magnet--or a bully: be my friend. Now. When I met one of my best friends, Michelle Buonfiglio, she came into the library and asked about romances--I pounced on her--not literally, we don't like each other that way. Anyway, she kept coming into the library and we kept talking. And then we saw each other at school. We were shawked.

Seriously.

Then I finally said, here's my e-mail, we should go out to lunch. I made her be my friend.

I've always been happy for my one time aggressiveness. Never had I done that before. Maybe in kindergarten (not the e-mail address, cuz that was in the olden days when there was only fire and string) but I may have made someone come over to play Barbies--I think she was invented (I'm joking, of course she was, we're the same age, Barbie and me.)

So my point is, I love my friends and will do anything for them. Seriously.

What would you do for your friend?

Manic Monday

Such good intentions.

I'll take a shower and get ready for work before my youngest leaves for school, then I'll be ready to fly out the door to get the grocery shopping done, get back home and have plenty of time for writing before I actually have to be to work.

D'oh.

I should know better, I've done this before.

I have a habit of trying to cram too many things in too short a time span. I think it keeps me lively.

Or crazy.

Really, I wouldn't have it any other way. I know, it sounds stupid--but I'd rather have a lot to do--I think I actually get more done that way. Too much time equals too much time to waste.

Okay, I might be lying, I do that sometimes. Because I also like to have great expanses of time with nothing to do but sit and read.

Aaah.

Which would you rather have too much time or too many things to do?

Much Ado-doo About Nothin'

That's right--nothin'. Nada. Zero, zip, zilch, as my Dad used to say.

I'm stuck. I got nothing. I'm talking about writing--I got plenty of other stuff, but writing? Plenty of nothing. I know, I know, if I just keep writing something magical will happen and all kinds of ideas and plot twists shall appear.

It's just that...I don't wanna.

I mean I do, but I don't. My husband jokes with me and says, "You want to have written a book, but you don't want to be writing one."

Maybe, maybe in a way he's right except when it really is magic and the words fly from my brain to my fingertips onto the keyboard and appear on the screen. Then, then I want to be writing a book.

To be writing, or not to be writing, that is the question--whether tis nobler...oh, what the hell--I chose to be writing.

It might make me crazy, but at least it keeps me from going crazy. And I have to prove my husband wrong (not about the 'have written' just about the not wanting 'to be' writing).

The Wheels On The Bus Go Round 'N Round...

Hey, I've got an idea, I'm going to take the 10 year old on a bus ride to visit our good friends. It will be exciting...

And it was, the first hour. The last seven and a half hours? Not so much so.

The DVD player didn't hold its charge, I couldn't get the laptop connected to the free WiFi on the bus, and we forgot Bunny. He has never gone to sleep without Bunny, literally. He talks about maybe he's too old for a stuffed animal, but I think when you've been with someone your whole life they're more than a stuffed animal, they're your friend.

The main point is all these things are tied to the bus for him--it is, in fact, the bus's fault that Bunny was left at home, that the DVD player didn't hold its charge and for no internet--well, that's true, it is the bus's fault. Now the cool thing is we played a couple card games (we're talented) and 20 questions and looked at cows and horses along the way--he actually did great with hardly any electronics.

But he's sworn never to set foot on a bus again, luckily, because the bus was so dang cheap I was able to book us on a flight home. He's really excited about it...

Of all the best laid plans what have been your worst ideas?

Enough About Me, Let's Talk About My Shoes

Let's talk fashion.
And just so you don't think I'm a totally uncaring daughter and mother with the whole fashion thing--everyone's doing so much better. Mom's home with a medication change and son is on an over the counter thing for a couple weeks. We're sleeping through the night again baby.

So let's talk fashion. So my girlfriend Michelle, Michelle Buonfiglio, knows the importance of good shoes. And when I say good shoes I don't mean good for you (except for the soul) I mean Good--as in, "Oh my Gawd, those shoes...they take my breath away," good. She came into town this weekend and did she have a great pair of shoes to show me. I won't do them justice describing them, plus they're her shoes to describe or not. But my point (yes, I always one) is that she understands they are the foundation of her outfit--which is also great and has nothing to do with the next paragraph.

Here's the thing with shoes, you can have an okay dress, but pair it with fab shoes and it raises the value on the dress--like a really good school district does for your house...really. But the same can be said in the opposite, which I will:

great dress + okay shoes = blah--or hiding behind the buffet table all night.

My Mom, always said, "Older boys might like you."

No, that's not it.

"Spend more on your accessaries than on the rest of your wardrobe." That's it. You can fake a lot of things, but you can't fake a great pair of shoes.

Sammy, and I Don't Mean The Good Kind

I know we all love a good sammy, here's one of my faves, Clive Owen, moi, Daniel Craig.

Now that's a good sammy! But I'm not talking about good sammys today. I'm dealing with some serious stuff lately...and so I shouldn't have even joked about the Clive/Daniel thing, but I also know I need some humor, cuz that's how I roll.

My Mom is a powerhouse, an 86 year old public speaker, author and fashionista. If you happen to say to her, "Gee, I should paint my living room." she'll show up with a ladder and a roller before you've hung up the phone.

My youngest is a different kind of a powerhouse, rarely sick (and I mean rarely) plays baseball, football, soccer and wrestling. A funny kid who's just as willing to laugh at himself as anything else.

Within the last 5 days my son has had a mysterious ailment, sometimes waking him up in the middle of the night, which naturally leads to me waking up in the middle of the night. During this same time my Mom was admitted to the hospital. So between Urgent Care and hospital time and a Pediatrician appointment, I'm feeling...sandwiched.

How do you cope? I try for lots of humor and no vacuuming. But the running has fallen off and I know I need to keep up with the excersize, 'cuz that will help me cope as well. But tell me how you cope.

Is It Live Or Is It Blah Blah Blah

I decide to get on the treadmill, 'cuz that's what I do now...actually get on the treadmill, but my son (youngest) has already become one with the beanbag (it's the world's largest beanbag) and is playing his WWE video game in front of the tv in the excersize/game room. Normally I like to watch what I want to watch, but he's got dibs so to speak, so I let him continue as I start to run.

He ends up creating his own wrestler on the game...whom I become disturbingly attracted to. Now maybe it's the endorphins from the running or maybe it's the hormones from the "are you in menopause yet" or maybe I am just nuts. But I'm thinkin' this guy is hot.

Now I know people have been attracted to cartoons before, Jessica Rabbit comes to mind, but it got me thinking about all these virtual games and websites and I wondered how many people had an alternate life and love on the web or in games.

I'm sort of freaked out by it, but at the same time I kinda get it. No hassles, no worries, the perfect mate...sheesh, what fun would that be?

Would it be fun?