Tuesday, August 25, 2009

Pasties, Diaphragms and Back Yard Parties

pasties1I rarely write about my family other than hubs and the boys. I guess I feel like the family beyond the nucleus should not be subjected to such scrutiny. This story, however, was just too good to pass up.

A woman (she is in her early 30’s) recently told me the most hilarious story I immediately told her it would be blog fodder but I would not mention her name. Imagine, if you will, a woman. This woman may not be all that endowed. She is wearing something that warrants not wearing a bra. This woman prefers to not show off her nipples so she get some “pasties”. See, here’s the thing; some woman feverishly try to prevent their nipples from showing and others just don’t care. I am of the don’t care group. But I digress.

So my lady friend attends a backyard party and leaves to head to the next event with her beau. The night continues with a couple more parties and my friend heads home. Upon taking off her clothes to go to bed she notices she is missing a pastie. Not much to get worked up about right? Probably in a back yard somewhere; even if someone finds it they will not be able to figure out to whom it belonged. Or so she thinks.

Seems her soon to be mother law stayed behind at the first party. Something catches the eye of said mother in law and she asks another guest what it is. The mother in law picks it up and makes her own assessment. The next morning my friend listens to a somewhat serious voicemail from her soon to be mother in law asking my friend to return the call as soon as possible with the closing “we need to talk”.

It seems that the mother in law was under the impression my friend had lost her diaphragm. I did not know that was a common occurrence or that pasties and diaphragms look alike for that matter.

My friend is slightly embarrassed and assures her soon to be mother in law that it was just a pastie. I guess the mother in law is not quite ready to be a grandmother.

Sunday, August 23, 2009

You Talkin' To Me?

breastsI think it is obvious at this point that I have my pet peeves. Rather than dissect my laundry list of issues with others, I will concentrate on just one; eye contact.  Worse than a hand shake from a cold, clammy, dead fish; I cannot stand it when people do not look at me when engaged in conversation.  I am an eye person anyway.  Some woman like full lips, tight butts, strong arms, long hair, etc.  The first thing I notice on someone of either sex is their eyes.  The infamous “they” have said that the eyes are the window to the soul.  I am not sure if that is true, but I believe they can tell a lot about a person.

When I first meet someone I can tell how they feel about themselves by whether or not they look at me when introduced, and for how long.  Eye contact tells me they are confident but not necessarily cocky.  If they look at me too long I can get a little creeped out. You know what I am talking about; that guy that is still looking at you well after the introduction is over and you are looking at the introducing party.  Weirdo.

When I am talking to people I also pay attention to how often they look away.  It is one thing to get distracted by someone or something going on the room; especially if in a public place.  I too can get distracted by shiny objects. However, if I am having a one on one conversation and the other person looks away often, I start to wonder what they are hiding.  I read once that “A person who is looking to his left is accessing the memory; he is trying to recall the facts before relaying them to you. A person who is looking to his right is accessing the creative part of the brain. He is inventing a version of events or story to tell you.” I rarely pay attention to the direction someone is looking, I just get irritated they are not paying attention to the conversation. It’s just a mutual respect thing.

The one part of eye contact that we have no control over is the size of our pupils. In 1975, a study discovered pupils do more than simply react to light. When we are interested in the person we are talking to or the subject we are talking about, our pupils get bigger. When we're bored, they get smaller. To verify this, next time you're hanging out with a friend or significant other, talk about something you know he finds interesting, then suddenly change the subject to changes in this year's tax laws and watch his pupils change. I have tried this with hubs and can verify the validity. What do you think I chose as my subjects?

Thursday, August 20, 2009

Because I am Mom, and I Have One Too

horseI normally stray away from "those" posts.  You know the ones; all about how little junior is such a super star and is in the gifted program and blah blah.  Sure my boys are great and super cute but they also drive me nuts at times.  Then they redeem themselves by saying something like "mommy, put on this blanket; super heroes need capes".  Where do they get this stuff and do they know what they are saying?  They break my melting heart.

I started this blog over two years ago with the objective of keeping my nationwide gypsie family up to date on what is happening with the boys; hence this post.

Little Man is graduating from preschool today.  I realize he only turned four in June but he is going to attend a super cool program at the elementary school!  The program integrates children of appropriate development with others that may be having difficulties.  I am most excited that LM will have the opportunity to be  in class with some hearing impaired kids. The idea behind the program is for Little Man and his counterparts to mentor the other kids and vice versa.

In honor of this exciting milestone I wanted to document some of his recent answers to a teacher:

My Favorites:

Food: Pizza
This is so true; the kid could eat his weight in pizza every day.

Music: Big and Rich
Another truth.  Every time we get in the car he asks to turn on Big and Rich.  It is a good thing we have a number of their albums or I would go crazy.

Sport: Baseball
Like his mama he doesn't like to do anything if he is not good at it from the get go.  He has had the most success and fun with baseball.

Color: Red
Of course it is.  I bet he will marry a redhead too.

Movie: Batman and Spiderman
Big surprise.

Book: Lightning McQueen
I need to find out where he read this book.  We obviously need to get it at home.

Place: The Zoo
What kid doesn't love the zoo?

Subject: Puzzels
This is the neurotic in him; the challenge of putting things back in their place.  That's my boy!

My Nickname: "No"
Well I normally call him crazy monkey.

My hobby: Playing with my kitty
I am not sure if Poco the kitty would call that playing.

If you could chose any animal to be what would it be and why: Big giant elephant because I really want to scare people.
I don't consider elephants that scary.  Might need to get this answer analyzed.

What would you like to do or become in the future: A firefighter.
Not sure about this one.  Apparently we hang out with too many firefighters.  His favorite uncle is a firefighter and a friend of ours  that Little Man says is "super funny" is also a firefighter so we tend to visit a station regularly.  If I ask their wives they would say "mama don't let your baby grow up to be a fireman" because the schedule sucks.  May need to consider new hang out spots.

Like a string on a sweater that you pull but you know better/But doing what you shouldn't is half the fun

Wednesday, August 19, 2009

Monday, August 17, 2009

My Warrior Name is Big Spoon

spoonWhen hubs and I first “hooked up” he had a king sized bed. I can’t really call it a bed; he had a king sized mattress on the floor in his bedroom (read: Bachelor Pad). I loved that bed; plenty of room to spread out and get comfy, but you could still meet in the middle when you wanted.

When it came time to move hubs out of his house and into my place, the relationship I once had with the king changed. You see back then, hubs and I moved ourselves; we were not as fortunate as we are today to have selfless friends and family that are willing to spend an afternoon sweating and grunting while breaking their backs to help us move. Back then, we did not have the smarts, or funds, to hire two convicts and a truck to pack the truck for us. Back then, it was me and the mattress. After wrestling with the king for what seemed like nearly eternity, I convinced the man that the best, if not only way to get it out of the house was through the window; and its landing spot became its resting spot.

Upon moving in with me, hubs had no choice but to accept his fate; he would have to sleep on a queen mattress. As far as I am concerned the queen offers more possibilities than the king to meet in the middle when we choose. If you ask Brad though, he doesn’t really get his own space. He swears he has about two inches on his side of the bed.

There is a perfect explanation for this; I am a snuggler. Not the “hold me” kind of snuggler mind you; I just like to have some part of my body touching his while we sleep. An ankle over his ankle would suffice but that is just not conducive to sleeping on my side (and isn’t it all about me?). So we spoon; Brad clinging to the edge of the bed and me breathing down his neck. Paints quite the picture doesn’t it? Hubs would be perfectly content if we did not touch at all while sleeping; he claims I give off too much body heat or something lame like that.

Funny thing is, I sleep so much better when Brad is gone. I wake up in the exact same position I fell asleep and barely have to make the bed due to lack of ruffled covers. When Brad is home; we toss and turn and the covers are all tangled and twisted. As a neurotic bed maker it drives me nuts. Maybe I am unconsciously getting back at him by only giving him two inches of space in the bed?

In every relationship there is a big spoon and a little spoon. I happen to be the big spoon. Which are you?