For Mother’s Day last Sunday, I requested a few things:
- Breakfast in Bed
- Lunch at a Greek Restaurant
- Flowers
- Tirimisu from California Pizza Kitchen
- To watch No Country For Old Men before bedtime.
I got all of the above although, we didn’t get a chance to watch No Country until last night and it was just as amazing as the first time we watched it. I love the Coen Brothers so much. While I love all of their films (with the exception of a few), I love this film the most!
A SMALL MOMENT IN MY DAY
At the counter
inside the gas station
sits a bowl of apples
with a hand-written sign
which reads:
APPLES.
Beside the apples:
a bunch of bananas.
They have no sign.
“Did people have trouble identifying the apples by sight?”
I ask as the woman counts my change.
She stops
then looks over the fruit
perplexed
as if I have just asked the most important
question she has heard in
six months time.
She stares blankly for a long moment
then says
“I don’t know
I usually work on the weekends.”
I’m a big fan of Dallas Clayton, he has written two children’s books that are amazing. His blog is also full of every day happenings to which he adds illustrations. This is one of my favorites.
You may or may not know that I am a pretty big fan of Conan O’Brien. He rarely does interviews, but when his friend Marc Maron came on the show, he promised on air to do an episode of the podcast, “WTF with Marc Maron” which is recorded in Maron’s garage. I found it really interesting.
Careful, explicit language…don’t listen to this at full blast with your kids around.
Hahahahahaha!!
Oh my gosh, we actually have a board game called, “Would You Rather” that asks all sorts of questions like this. Like, “Would you rather have a glass bottle permanently stuck on all 5 fingers of your left hand or a bucket permanently stuck on your right foot.” It’s really fun.
My answer is smelling peanut butter, of course. I feel like after a while, I wouldn’t mind the smell but would hate if I were indistinguishable from a cat and every other non-primate animal. Also, I play the piano and guitar and am starting the cello soon. I need thumbs. As long as I don’t smell LIKE peanut butter for the rest of my life, I think I can deal with it myself.
You’re nuts!
Every night around 7:30pm, I get really, really tired. I make it a point to tell everyone around me, aying things like, “Oooohhh my gaaawwwshh! I am SOOO TIIIRED!!!” letting the yawp gush forth from my wide-open, yawning mouth. I jam my index fingers into my eyes, sometimes letting my glasses bounce on my knuckles as I rub my eyes rhythmically in-out-in-out-in-out, forming a huge smudge of black around each eye where mascara and eyeliner used to be. This goes on for a few hours in which I let garbled ideas play themselves out in the form of ramblings and hasty google searches on the internet. Then with much effort, I put both of my feet flat on the floor, place the palms of my hands onto my knees and push myself up, feeling and hearing each of my muscles tell me, “You done good today…you done real good.” and I toddle off with my cell phone in one hand and the bra I managed to take off with my shirt still on by some trick I learned in middle school in the other hand. I toss a half conscious “Goodnight, Babe…love you” over my shoulder and make for the bathroom. In an unceremonious ritual, I have my “last pee” while taking out my contacts or brushing my teeth, eyes squinted and watery from the bright lights and aching desire to rest. Finally, I make it to our bedroom where the shuffle of dresser, cabinet, hamper, dresser, cabinet, hamper begins-like a confused dance, which only ends once I have take off my clothes, diamonds, pearls, find my tank top and shorts, dress again and then semi collapse into bed next to Indy who has been sleeping for a good four hours by this time. I spoon his tiny body with mine and smell his sweet hair and squeeze his thick thighs and put my index finger between his first two toes. Then I unwind the blankets which he has twisted himself up in- like a tiny tornado and push back the mountain of stuffed animals to allow him more “breathing room.” I lay my head tenderly upon my pillow, let out a slow, long, silent sigh and those muscles which were just singing go silent too, I roll over with a pillow to my chest and between my knees and I drift away to sleep.
I usually have pretty interesting answers!
I got this for my husband who is a HUGE fan of Wes Anderson. I was too excited to wait until Valentine’s day to give them to him because I always struggle with giving him good gifts and I knew this was perfect. I was right. He opened the tiny box, threw his head back and said, “OH. MY. GOSH, THIS IS THE BEST GIFT EVER!”
I was right. If you’re a fan of Wes Anderson, check out this etsy site. And if you don’t know what etsy is, shame on you.
KEITH AND I HAVE GOT IT IN THE BAG!
HAHAHAHAHA! My husband’s analogies are fantastic and hilarious.
-A possum’s confused daylight pilgrimage to his grave.
-The sharp left turn at the bottom of a wooden rollercoaster’s tallest plummet.
-The feeling you have after you eat your favorite snack after it’s expiration date. And where the snack’s expiration date actually means something.
-The finale…
