Good Mornin'! Good Mor-or-or-nin'!

It was raining today. I didn't have an umbrella so I had to borrow one. It was a giant golf umbrella. My mother got me an umbrella like this for Christmas my freshman year in college. It was a tradition in my home every year for me to pick the most interesting looking present under the tree and vow to open it first on Christmas Day. My mother would wrap a present and inside that one present would be fifteen other tinier wrapped presents. I loved it! So, when I'd spotted this particular present, I was more than intrigued. It was long. Heavy. Distinct. I thought for sure there were hundreds of wrapped gems inside a long tube made of old paper towel rolls. Imagine my surprise on Christmas morning when I'd grabbed said present, ripped-off its paper, only to find...a giant umbrella. A giant umbrella with my school mascot emblazoned upon four of its sections. I was...mortified. There was no way I was going to carry that damned thing across campus! Was she crazy? Where was the jewelry? Where was the makeup? Where were all the quarters I was sure were stuffed into that enormous tube? Boo, I say. Boo, to giant umbrellas.

Well, today, I had to carry a giant umbrella across campus. Now you might think at my age, I wouldn't really give a flying fig what people think about me. You'd be half right. I don't care what people think of me, unless those people are practically de-eyed by the metal prongs of a humongous killing machine doubling as a water barrier. I nearly wiped out five people walking across campus to grab a coffee. I looked like the most ridiculous egomaniac.

I cannot have even one drop on my person. Under no circumstance is precipitation to touch my body at any time. Nor shall it touch anyone within a five mile radius of me.

You Are 19 Months Going on 91.

I don't particularly like letting my 19-month-old watch television but as a single mom, if I have to potty or shower or, um...I don't know...get shit done...into the ExerSaucer she goes and on comes the television.

My concern is...she has developed a deep and abiding love for...Christopher Plummer. Yes. The father from The Sound of Music. The whole thing played twelve times last week. She will normally play when the TV is on and virtually ignore it, instead reading her books and looking at magazines and making a general mess of the place. But if Julie Andrews and those kids are on, she is nearly glued to the screen. She will honestly sit and watch the entire movie. And if she wanders into the other room to follow me and hears a certain part of the movie come on she will RUN into the living room like, "Yeah...mom...hold that thought. The hot dad is about to sing," and she stands in front of the television (much too closely) and drools, literally, over him.

Her favorite television show? Lawrence Welk.

I am pretty sure I gave birth to an old lady. If she starts knitting soon, be afraid. Very afraid.

Tis the Season

...to let hair air dry.

Fa la la lala. La lala. La.

Happy Bubble

I watched ER for the first time tonight in years. I wouldn't have even noticed if suddenly I hadn't flipped past the channel and caught a glimpse of George Clooney in scrubs (hubba hubba, homeboy) and Susan Sarandon (peace, sister). I ended up watching the last twenty five minutes of the episode and, of course, cried about thirty seconds into it. Susan did a really good job. I smell Emmy.

It got me thinking about the last time Ms. Sarandon made me cry. It was last week when Thelma and Louise was on cable. Man. That movie pisses me off. What the hell? I swear it's like My Best Friend's Wedding. I saw that in the theater four times. It ruined my life for about a month after the first viewing, but I went back. It's been the same the twenty times I've seen it since: I guess I'm really just thinking, "Certainly it will end differently this time! I just know it!" I like to be entertained at the movies, not made to want to hurt some poor innocent bystander. Happy things happen at the movies! If I wanted reality, I'd just stay home and watch the news. Which I don't.

Yeah. T&L really makes me mad. Every time. How about...go to the police...The End...done?

The only thing that kept me interested this time was Michael Madsen. Holy hell, he is h-o-t-t. Yeesh. I reminded myself to imdb.com him and promptly forgot, per normal anything that I want to do and don't immediately get up and do it.

Well, when I was up at some ungodly hour with the baby a few days later, an old episode of MTV Cribs was on and lo and behold, there was Mr. Madsen. Only his hair was bleached blond. Not a good look for him. So I imdb-ed him just now: 7 movies completed, 9 in post-production, currently filming 3 movies, 5 in pre-production, 1 announced and 2 in production.

Wonder how many of those will piss me off.