Tammy Wynette, Plumbers' Cracks, Turkey Candles from Goodwill, Johnny (Depp), Spanish, The Marine Corps Ball, Pappaw, & The Park

Right now I am listening to my Tammy Wynette Remembered album, which features Elton John singing "Stand by Your Man." Tammy was my favorite back in the days of family vacations driving across country with me as a four-year-old standing in the middle of the front seat belting out country music (ha ha! "belting out" -- withOUT a seatbelt, that is). Eventually, when I became a tween, I moved into my closet with some Reba tapes and a mirror. Now I'm more into the Dixie Chicks.

Last night we noticed that the rug in front of the sink in the kitchen was soaked. Husband got out the chainsaw and started to rip out the cabinets to find the source, but I finally convinced him that it was worth it to wait for a plumber. Husband likes chainsaws. But not in a scary serial killer kind of way. He just really enjoys climbing and trimming trees. Anyway ... the plumber arrived today and after four hours, he called in backup. Then I overheard the backup asking Husband, "Is there somewheres else y'all could move to 'til we get it taken care of?"

Yeah.

I mean, NO there is nowheres else we can go, but yeah, it might be bad. So tomorrow they're coming back to stick a camera down a pipe to view how much real damage there is. In the meantime of all the plumbing issues, The Goose and I took off to the Goodwill Store where lord help us all, they had all manner of fat Christmas lights and cookie tins. I came home with $7 worth of the aforementioned CRAP and a half-burned turkey candle. If you have a Goodwill Store in your area and you have not checked it out then by ALL MEANS ... get yourself down there ASAP.

When we got home there was a Netflick waiting ... Charley and the Chocolate Factory. Ahhhh, Johnny. My first Johnny-love. Do y'all think Johnny would like me if he knew me?

ION ...

There's really nothing to say and I'm totally bored with this blog. If anyone has any suggestions about topics on which I could rant, please post a comment.

Tomorrow I am meeting my Spanish conversation partner (a former student from Puerto Rico). In preparation for this week's discussion, I have been watching all of The Goose's Baby Einstein videos in Spanish. And also I have rented about one point two million Spanish DVDs ... like Talk to Her, Y Tu Mama Tambien, etc. This is what I imagine our conversation being like (sorry if you don't speak ANY Spanish):

Kim: Hola. Que tal?

SCP: Bien. Y tu?

Kim: Bien. Me gusta la pelicula "Habla con Ella."

SCP: Yo tambien!

Kim: Que dice la vaca?

SCP: Que?

Kim: Que dice la vaca? ... como "El viejo McDonald tiene una granja. Eee Eye Eee Eye Oh. Moo moo aqui! Moo moo alla!" HA HA HA! OK! Now let's talk about animales del barrio! Como, la nutria! El perro! El gato! El gato dice MEEEEOWWWW!

Pitiful.

ION ...

I can't find any flu vaccine and it's killing me. I have called around all over town and nobody has any left. How did I miss the big rush? ALWAYS I get a flu shot. And ALWAYS I get the flu. Every year.

Let's see ... what else?

Today is the 230th birthday of the Marine Corps. I used to date a Marine. I used to go to the Marine Corps Ball every year in a rented dress. Except one year my mom bought me a red, beaded gown. The beads were in a spiderweb pattern all over. I wish I had a picture of this. Him in that uniform and me in that Vanna White dress. And I'm not kidding about Vanna White, because about a week after the ball we actually saw Vanna in the EXACT SAME (redundancy is necessary in some cases) red spiderweb gown on "Wheel of Fortune." My parents and my Pappaw love Wheel of Fortune.

And speaking of Pappaw ...

He is finally home from the hospital. While there, he was quite a character (during the times when he was lucid, which were few and far between). He tried to frisk the nurses (said he was looking for money) and he told one of the doctors (in response to a comment about how his ear light wasn't working): "Well, your light may not be working good, but your mouth sure is." This doctor also happens to be an ex-boyfriend of my cousin who is married to Satan. I rest my case about how she could've done better. I've said a real goodbye to Pappaw every single time I've been home for the last year , and still he's ticking. But the times when he's really like my Pappaw are few and far between now.

OK, now I'm sad.

Let's see ... what else is new? It's been a week and I'm struggling to keep this going. And you are probably thinking: SOMEONE PLEASE PUT HER OUT OF HER MISERY.

Ah yes. Online shopping. There should be an 11th commandment: "Thou shalt not allow it to be so easy to complete transactions for J. Crew vintage sweat pants online." In lagoon. Or papaya. Or any of the other scrumptuous colors that I might find.

Today at the park (I could have an entire blog devoted to that topic), I met a woman whose 7-month old is waking up every hour to nurse from 7 p.m. to 7 a.m. This poor, poor woman. I'm always like, "WOW. And I thought Goose's sleeping issues were weird. THAT is weird!" Wouldn't you like to meet me on the playground? Meanwhile, The Goose found Every Single Hackberry within a .25 mile radius and stuffed them all into his mouth while I yik yakked about Ferberization and making your own babyfood. He threw up lasagna tonight, so I hope the hackberries aren't the reason.

But anyway ... there was also a man there with a kid Goose's age (14 months!) who was adopted from an American orphanage. OK, now I was adopted myself and apparently I am so dumb about these things, because I didn't even know that there really WERE anymore real orphanages in America. Is that so naive or what? I guess I thought that our foster system eliminated the need for orphanages or something. But his story was amazing and now I'm like, "We should really do this ... we have ALL THIS ROOM for lots of kids" and then two seconds later I'm all, "DON'T GET ME ANYWHERE NEAR A FREAKIN' ORPHANAGE."

Truthfully, though, I just cannot even bear to think about orphanages. All those babies lying alone in cribs. It's unbearable. I'm in a total stage of Everyone is Someone's Baby. And now every single gross person I see is NEW in my eyes. For a second, at least. I'm all, "Wow, that disgusting poochy-stomach guy in a wife-beater shirt was once someone's sweet sweet baby with delicious cheeks." And then he sees me looking and starts smiling (or worse) and I'm like, "OMG, how disgusting is he?" See, that's why I need to go to church. Because, unlike Husband, I need to be reminded that some greater power could strike me dead at any point.

OK, gotta go call J. Crew. They screwed up my online order.

Musings on Vivid Leaves, Delicious Diddums, & Me

It's so autumn! I nearly crash Suzie Q. Subaru every time I drive down from our haven and into the Real World because the leaves! The LEAVES! They are calling me to stop the car, get out and be like Julie Andrews in The Sound of Music when she goes to the top of that mountain, holds her arms out, and sings while spinning. I want to do that in some unwitting neighbor's yard. But there are too many construction workers around.

Do you see that Delicious Diddums in the picture at left? I could make it be at right, but I'm too lazy. I know how to though, just so you know. Anyway ... back to DD. Is he ever Delicious these days! OK, so he was Delicious today. He called me "Mama" all day today. And he giggled when I cracked jokes and blew bubbles in the tub (with my mouth, not my butt) and every time I ground coffee he pointed and said "AH!" I grind coffee several times a day. I love TOASTED ALMOND COFFEEMATE, and DD loves the coffee grinder but don't get him anywhere near the Cuisinart food chopper.

I have been doing well these days. That just means that I haven't been plucking my eyebrows obsessively, or counting the number of boards in our living room floor, or wondering whether the end of the world is coming if six socks, six hand towels, and six pairs of panties come out of the dryer all from one load. And Husband said yesterday that he was giving me a pedicure FOR NO REASON. Not him administering, actually. He's just paying for it (the last time he gave me a pedicure I was 8 months pregnant and we were living in a hotel owned (and lived in) by people who had 14 chickens and a goat and my right foot ended up purple and my left foot ended up orange). I had the choice between a pedicure or a massage and I am just vain enough to know that red toenails are SO much more important than any old relaxed back.

I don't have much to say, but I did want to write down a story about my term as a freshman composition instructor at Northern Arizona University. The program required that the students write five short papers and one long one, and the long one required some sort of visual prop as well as an oral presentation.

So I had this major crush on one of my students. Let's call him Michael just for funsies. He was just too cute and smart. And this was an 8:00 a.m. class and they were all pretty awesome and this was when I was biking to work everyday and living in the mountains and breathing that fresh, fresh air. And he was so cute. Did I mention that he was cute?

His argument paper was on the issue of binge drinking in American universities. Everyone else was writing on abortion or evolution vs. creationism or drilling for oil in the AWR or some shit and here he is with this really relevant paper which was worth every inch of the A that I gave him. And so everyone has been bringing in these posters with charts, graphs, photos downloaded from the Internet and they've been giving presentations all week and bullshitting right and left and acting like they know how to really avoid using logical fallacies and here he is just standing up in front of the class with no poster. And up to now he's been writing steal-your-heart papers about autumn leaves in New Hampshire and hikes with his family and I've had two dreams in which we've kissed. Two! Not just one, but two and I can hardly look at him anymore. And so he gets up in front of the class and gives his speech and then, for his visual prop, he passes around photos of him and his buddies binge drinking. And at first I'm like, "What? What are you passing around?" And then I'm like, "OMG. Those are real pictures of binge drinking. And that's you and some other girl who is not your sicko English teacher kissing and holding tequila bottles." I mean I didn't really say that, but can you believe that he actually passed around photos? This is brilliant. Brilliant! Because of course I had to KEEP a copy of the paper and the visual props. Brilliant.

And then came May and the end of the semester and he went back to New Hampshire and anyway I AM MARRIED. And then in the summer one day I get this email from him. He needs a recommendation form filled out so that he can study abroad in Costa Rica. And it's not like, "Hey can you fill out the form and maybe come with me?" It's more like, "Dear Ms. Becker, Would you consider recommending me for this study abroad program?" And I am devastated. Still.

But Husband is cute too. And anyway, he's the one. And he is paying for me to get my toenails painted soon. And plus, he vacuumed the upstairs on his lunch hour yesterday.

But I do still think of Michael every time I binge drink. Not that it's that much, I mean, really. It's not.

Gotta go.