Monday Erratica

1. Comet and his friend, Einstein, are happily playing a video game in the next room. They.Are.So.Loud. What the hell was I thinking when we bought this open plan house! Why didn't I hold out for a basement rumpus room? My aching head. Sitting outside in the pouring rain is looking mighty attractive. Or maybe I could go sit out in the van...

2. I saw a commercial at the gym today. I didn't have my headphones, so I only got the visuals, but basically it showed this woman in the grocery store looking for something. It turned out to be her two young children who were running amok in the produce section. The next scene is the same woman walking into the house as her small daughter drops a water balloon from upstairs and it splatters next to her small son who is watching TV. It was an ad for an I.U.D.

3. We planted some pumpkin seeds a couple of weeks ago and they are taking over the world. I am having a gardening service come and till a pumpkin patch and it can't happen too soon!

4. Yesterday, my friend and neighbor asked me how I would feel about having animals in our rather large, currently unused dog pen. Livestock. Have I mentioned my formative years spent in close proximity to our bovine friends? She wants to go in on a miniature cow with a couple of people and share the milk. I looked miniature cows up on the internet and they are soooo cute, I would kiss one if it was standing in my kitchen right now. However, livestock is work. There's the poop, and with the poop come the flies. Then comes the milking of the cow and I couldn't help think of a friend who milked her goats and when she strained the milk, there were all these hairs and ickies in the strainer afterward. And what about pasteurization? (I'm a wimp that way.) And cows can get sick and wouldn't it be lonely? Then you would need two. Also, would it "moo" very early in the morning, because I'm not down with that. So no tiny, adorable, sweet little cow in my dog pen. I hope my friend gets a miniature cow and finds a place to put it in the neighborhood so that I can kiss it and give it carrots (or whatever they like). I admire my friend's creative ideas and pioneer spirit, but face it, if I had lived in the 1800's, I would have been the first pioneer buried 'longside the trail. "It was her either her tonsils or the fact that she hadn't bathed in a month that did ol' Gusta in," the hardier pioneers would recall as the shucked and milked and sowed.

4. Today, I had a fortuitous meeting with Impasta and two other friends at the local Panera and joined them for a chat. It was like getting an unexpected present!

5. We are storing our lawnmower in the garage and the stink of the gas and oil that is coming through the laundry room door is nauseating. Maybe *that* can go in the dog pen!

That's it.

Lady Pain

Okay, so I thought I was just having regular decrepit, aged pain, so I took some Tylenol. Didn't work. Still, I thought, this must just be really, really decrepit, aged pain, and I took MORE Tylenol. Guess what? Didn't work. Then I realized: Oshit! It was LADY PAIN! (Pardon me, non-spousal male reader(s).) And I had already more than wasted my painkiller quotient! If I had only known, I would have gone for the Ibuprofen! What's a girl to do?

Drink Chardonnay, of course. Luckily for me, and those closest to me, I had laid in a bottle of Toasted Head Chardonnay for my birthday (a week hence), and all I had to do was pop the cork. A glass and-a-half later, I am a bit tipsy, but feelin' no pain.

This experience made me realize/remember that I am SO grateful for ibuprofen and those who "fought" to make it and over-the-counter drug. I salute you, whoever the heck you are (were)! You see, before the advent of ibuprofen, I could only alleviate my Lady Pain with alcohol, and I didn't even figure *that* out until my late twenties--way too late. I was the woman whose eyes suddenly bugged out of her head during a work meeting and when asked, "What's wrong?" gasped, "Nothing, WHY do you ASK?" Aspirin? Bwhahahahaha! Tylenol? Don't GET me started! By the by, I'm not so much saluting the Chardonnay-ists, as I will feel this tomorrow.

I'm happy to add ibuprofen to my gratitude short list. I have, actually, tons to be grateful for, and I'm starting a class this week to learn to feel more gratitude. Before the ibuprofen realization, I was only deeply committed to my gratitude to the local trash collection service which now lets me mingle my trash and recyclables! I can't even express the joy that gives me. (And also, that time when GameGuy got the gum out of the dryer when it was totally my fault and my gum...) With me, it's the little things. Always the little things.

So, in my funky little Gusta way, I'm grateful. Also, a bit drunk.

P.S. Apologies to Impasta: "We'll always have the Burrito place..." Sometimes it *is* the hill of beans!

P.P.S. I'm reading "The Adventures of Kavalier and Clay" (Michael Chabon) and it's the best book I've read since "The Corrections" (Jonathan Frantzen). GameGuy gets a big ol' "I told you so!" as he's been telling me to read it for eight years and I have been demurring because I'm always sure I'll hate things that people tell me I will love. Silly me.

My baby is six!

Comet is six with a bullet (and many, many sticks that are his "guns")! He is smart, sassy, funny and the center of our world. He's big. It seems like only yesterday that we brought him home, like some tiny, weird, exotic pet that we had to learn to care for with no "Guide to Care and Feeding Of" booklet. Now he's a big boy and can argue like a lawyer. He reads. He writes. He is a math whiz. He is a Kung Fu fighter and a soccer superstar. A Rock 'em Sock 'em robot champ. He enjoys video games, Broadway musicals and all types of weaponry. His new favorite word (succeeding "butt") is "Duh." He is impatient and cuddly, sweet and tart. He is a ball of energy and I love to watch blaze across my sky!

Happy birthday, my little Comet!