did I do that???

I fell in love a little bit today. He looks like a 7-year-old version of Steve Urkel: skinny little thing, black plastic glasses, missing front teeth, size 6 striped polo tucked into his dark jeans that were rolled up at the ankle. I swear. He loves cheese pizza, dinosaurs, the color yellow, recess and his teacher. He has a pet turtle and his 5-year-old brother is his best friend.

This LittleUrkelLookalike is my "Reading Buddy" for the next two years. We met today and broke the ice by making a dinosaur puppet with a foam head, button eyes, a pink felt tongue and some wicked rigatoni fangs. His puppet was SUPER AWESOME and because he was made from spongy foam, my little buddy named his dinosaur "Bob". (Get it? Spongy Bob?)

He says he wants me to teach him to read gooder.

Be still my heart.

how many gingers does it take to change a lightbulb?

One full month without my son in the house. YES, I miss him. He was my minion (Urban Dictionary definition: "one who is inexperienced, but will perform menial tasks; an evil sidekick or servant." Tell me that doesn't describe him perfectly???) We went to movies together, we split the shopping chores in half (you get food, I'll get toiletries), he helped clean house without even being asked, he did icky jobs for me, ran errands (always 'borrowing' the debit card in my purse and 'forgetting' to return it), and he threw at least a dozen "your mom" burns at me every week. So, I have made note of 10 pros and 10 cons of his being gone.

CONS:

I no longer have my own personal travel D.J. for road trips. Though, I guess, since he uses an iPod adapter, that would make him an I.J. Of course, most of the time narcolepsy boy fell asleep on road trips anyway.

I now have to actually READ instructions myself, and the way my brain works, I might as well read the side printed in Chinese.

I never hear ginger jokes anymore. (Urban Dictionary defines a ginger as: "a human characterized by pale skin, freckles and red hair. Gingers are considered to be inferior and thus deservingly discriminated against. They are thought to have no souls and their only real enemy is the sun.")

While driving, I now have to fish through my purse one-handed to feel for a lipstick. Was SO much easier to say, "Hey Kev, can you find my lipstick?" Of course, since he was usually asleep as mentioned earlier, I'm kinda already used to this one.

The yard has not been mowed in 5 weeks and 3 days. I got lost going to the mailbox yesterday.

It's impossible to divide an 8-piece sushi roll without a fourth sushi-eater.

Grocery shopping takes twice as long.

At work I now have to change laser printer cartridges and copy machine toner. At home I have to dust, windex, clean the bathroom, vacuum, sweep, do the dishes, put away the laundry, put away the groceries, AND take out the trash. I miss my slave son.

If I want a half-cherry half-vanilla diet Coke, easy ice at 3:00 in the afternoon, I have to actually leave work and go get it myself.

There is no deep bass voice sweetly asking, "Mom ... scratch my legs."

PROS:

There is no deep bass voice sweetly asking, "Mom...scratch my hairy man legs!!!"

The entire box of Blueberry Muffin Pop-Tarts is mine. MINE!

His bed is always neatly made. Well, except for when I miss him so much I curl up in his bed with his drumsticks and his Mr. Potato Head and his half-used stick of Fiji Old Spice deoderant and have a good cry.

Unlike narcolepsy boy, my imaginary friend never falls asleep on car trips. Then again, my imaginary friend can't find a lipstick in my purse, or create an amazing road trip play list either.

His little Dodge isn't parked in the driveway, so I no longer have to look behind me when I back out. Of course, the big oak tree has a new ding in the bark.

The pillows on my office loveseat stay fluffy and symmetrical as he is no longer taking afterschool naps on them. Plus, nobody at home is complaining about all my pretty new throw pillows!

When I am checking out of a store, I am no longer embarrassed by missing debit cards.

While grocery shopping takes twice as long, it only costs half as much!

If - ON RARE OCCASION - I want, say, a mango martini while out to dinner, I don't have to deal with his "death stare" and Darth-Vader-like voice saying, "Fine. Drink and drive. Kill me. What do I care?"

And finally, since he took his Old Spice deodorant, shampoo and body wash to college with him, the bathroom no longer smells like that guy "on a horse". It does, however, still smell like that OTHER guy on a horse.

Oh, and how many gingers does it take to change a lightbulb?

None. They can't be exposed to the light.

a 100 grand kinda day

Last year about this time I had a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. Today was NOT one of those days.

First, I was walking downtown last weekend and saw a woman I recognized from somewhere - and I couldn't place her to save my life. I knew I encountered her on a regular basis, and I wracked my brain trying to envision her in all my regular places. I never could figure it out, and it bugged me for DAYS. This morning I stopped for coffee and THERE she was behind the counter.

Second, I dreamed that Mayah started talking all in one day, and at the end of the dream she said, "I wuv you, M.E." For real, Kacey texted later to say that she had made the "I Love You" sign to Mayah and she had made it right back. Clearly brilliance runs in the family.

Third, daughter-face (the aforementioned Kacey) said, "Hey, guess what?" So I sarcastically responded with, "You're pregnant?" Turns out Kacey was told she is "an invaluable member of their [work] team", they are going to alleviate some of her work load via an intern, AND they are giving her a raise! Color me proud.

Fourth, Kevie-poo scored a 97 on his statistics test!

Fifth, ever since leaving for college, Kevin has referred to himself in the third person when sending me more than one-word texts. "Your son is tired." "Your son made an A on his first big test." "Your son is playing on the Ultimate Frisbee team." "Your son needs cleats." (To which I responded, "My son needs a job.") Well, today he texted, "Your son has a job." Yippee! So, as promised, his mommy will be sending him a care package tomorrow replete with goodies and a new phone. (The speaker is broken on his.) When I asked if he had any special "junk food requests" he replied, "the kind of stuff that takes 2 years off your life." Hot Fudge Sundae Pop-Tarts it is.

Sixth and finally, I started a "traffic counter" on my blog in May of 2009. Today it rolled over 100,000. One. Hundred. Thousand. Must be time for an oil change.

easy as 1, 2, 3

I have spent a small fortune on hotel rooms this summer . . . BUT, what with all the mini-toiletries, I have saved approximately $1.28 on shampoo and conditioner, so that's something.

I stayed up LATE Sunday night. When somebody asked me today what time I went to bed, I responded "2 amish". Haha. Looked like a couple of Mennonite churchgoers, which made me laugh.

Along those lines, last month I saw five Amish women sitting in Starbuck's drinking coffee . . . 'cause nothing screams "I am a simple woman" quite like a $3.85 grande caramel macchiato.

I was trying on the most gorgeous pair of brown leather ankle boots when it dawned on me . . . women's shoe sizes begin at 4 and go to 12 and progress by HALF SIZES??? Can somebody please tell me what's wrong with consecutive Arabic numerals? 1, 2, 3, and so on? I mean, whose stupid idea was this to require us to use decimals when purchasing footwear? Probably the same dude who established a mile would measure 5,280 feet, or a pound would contain 16 ounces. Or maybe it was the genius who decided to say "numeral" instead of "numberal". Then I overheard a conversation between a mom and a preschooler who was kicking the angled shoe-mirror at the end of the aisle, and I knew. "Bailey, stop kicking the mirror. Bailey, I mean it. Stop it. Do you want me to spank you? I'm going to count to three, Bailey . . . one . . . two . . . two-and-a-half . . ." Oh, the insanity.

yabba dabba to do list

So here's the thing with bad habits: they're BAD.

I know, right?

So when I made a list of 27 things I need to improve about myself (24 of them being bogus, of course, because how could there POSSIBLY be 27 things wrong with ME?), I didn't really take into account how I was going to prioritize these 27 things over the next 27 months. I mean it SOUNDS good to say I'm going to tackle one thing a month so the 50-something me will be a better version of the 40-something me, but it's another thing altogether (in unison: "It's another thing") to decide which vice gets the grip each month.

July was easy. I needed to NOT spend any extra money, what with all the upcoming travel and tuition, plus it afforded me the maternal opportunity to provide home-cooked meals for Kevie-poo before I sent him off to the collegiate world. And the benefits have been lasting. I have "brown bagged" my lunch WAY more than normal, which means fewer things are getting green and fuzzy in my fridge. It also means I'm eating more fruit. Good stuff. Especially mango.

August, while not easy, was essential. I wish I liked water. Those of you who have blog-journeyed with me over the past few years KNOW how much I dislike the liquid blah. It's ridiculous, I know, but I hate it. However, I forced myself to get at LEAST 64 ounces each and every day, and some days I got as many as 96. I have developed a GOOD habit of downing a full glass every morning before I leave the house and another every night before bed. (I know you're thinking it, so I'll just go ahead and say it: Yes, I often have to pee in the middle of the night.) Still, I'm getting 24-32 ounces a day more than I was before August, so success has been achieved.

Now here we are in September and I find myself staring at this "fix-it" list of 25 remaining undesirables. The logical step would be to prioritize them and begin with the most important. But which is most important: Wearing my seatbelt or not texting while driving? Exercising regularly or eating healthier? Recycling or getting more sleep?

Yes, I know, YOU, being the amazingly disciplined person that you are, would just fix all these problems NOW. But I know myself well enough to know I would become overwhelmed with too many changes to my schedule, too many new things to focus on, too many actions to be conscious of all at once, and I would give up and just eat a cookie and watch a movie. So I trudge on, fixing one thing at a time, until I achieve the perfect me. Which, really, isn't so far-fetched now, is it? I mean, I already have great hair, and I can kick most of your butts at Scrabble, so how much more could there be before I achieve perfection?

So . . . the bad-habit-of-choice-to-break for the month of September is: (drum roll, please) Take my vitamins. WHAT??? THAT WASN'T EVEN ON THE LIST OF "MOST ESSENTIALS"!? I know, but here's the logic: 1) I'm already in the kitchen every morning and every night drinking that extra glass of water, so taking my vitamins will reinforce the water practice 2) My supplements (assorted ones for various things) help me sleep better, give me more energy, keep me less emotional, etc. preparing me to work on the rest of my bad habits list and 3) well, there is no "3", but two points didn't seem sufficient to convince you.

I'm off to the store now to buy some gummy Flintstones.

By the way, I'm feeling good about October's goal: Stopping the car with my feet.