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It's 12:01am and it's Monday...and heck, I'm already tired. Not so much head heavy. More along the lines of emotionally drained. And the week hasn't even begun. Crap.

Ever have one of those days when you ask yourself what the heck you are doing with your life? What your legacy will be? What your epitaph will read? (Oh come on, it's October. The question is admissible...)

So do you?

I do.

Everyday.

The question, like a year-old moldy tomato, usually gets hidden behind everyday life. Like "What's for dinner?" "What's for lunch?" and...the inevitable, "What's for dinner?" Sure, there's the occasional "Where the heck are my warm fuzzy slippers?" and even the random, "What was I thinking!?!", but understand that these are not the only sides that the round funky veggie (yes, some argue it's a fruit...so be it) gets lost behind.

There's the child asking, "Why do I have to brush my teeth?" and "I don't have any clean underwear. Where are my underwear?" The husband asking, "Can you pick up that Dill Havarti and sweet tea when you run to the grocery store today?"...and the acceptance that while trying to pick up that Dill Havarti and sweet tea, that the 99 cent recycle bags (that you were so gung-ho to purchase) are sitting right where you left them - on the kitchen table, baskng in the sun. Oh how you long to be there with them. Yes, so much for the "Green Samaritan" who's going to save the world of filth and destruction! (Yes, go ahead, throw that green cape to the floor and stomp on it...if it makes you feel better.)

Most Moms love being Moms. Trust me...and immensely. After all, being a parent is an incredible journey. The women of the tribe are just plain tired. Ok, tired and in need of adult conversation. Ok, tired...adult conversation...and a haircut. Anyways, you catch my drift. Although somehow I feel like I need to follow that up with a "Wonga Wonga", and a "Where the heck is my dinosaur din din?"

Somewhere the line blurred, the lights dimmed and "Nope...sorry, no one's home!" is the only sound that echoes miles around. A crusty-eyed woman in a pink bath robe, with a hairstyle from 1982 is left searching in the silence for a simple crackle. Electricity...a spark...anything...just so she knows that there is an answer to the question, "Why am I here?...Why?" Believe me. You may not hear it clearly, but she's asking.

Listen, this isn't about pouting and throwing a hissy fit. This is reality. There's no time to pout. Dammit there are beds to be made. But every once in awhile, when condiments have been depleted, sides have been scarfed, and that old moldy tomato resurfaces. Acknowledge it. I'm not saying you have to devour it, but spend quality time with it. I don't know, strap it in, put the top down and take it for a joy ride. However you do it, make sure you also take a good look at the growth. Over time, underneath all the gray matter, yes...there still lies a rich center with many seeds to be sown.

Oh how I long to be motivated today. Well that, and for some reason I feel like a bowl of spaghetti...

Happy Monday!
(Hey, don't forget I left you a freebie.)

Freebies, Freedom & Flipancy

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So, I thought that I'd add a little something to my blog. A little something to help you (whomever you are out there) find a little glory every time I blog on a Monday. That's right, you benefit when I haul my grumpy ass out of bed. A freebie every week will be listed here...somewhere in my blog. You find it and you go there...and it's yours. Perhaps you might even share your finds as well?

You know how I love a great deal? I do, if you don't. I'll admit that I've purchased items that I don't really need because they were such a great deal. Like the giant alphabet stamps for $4.99, that $3 melamine bowl that spins on its own lazy susan, the gallons and gallons of "Oops" paint... Seriously, who doesn't look for a great deal? (Like the free children's cough syrup made from honey that I found on the WWW.) The question is, do you do cartwheels out the front door after-the-fact, even if the item eventually sits in the garage for a season or two before you pawn it off on a naive friend?

Some might think I have a problem, but I like to look at it simply being in denial. Like those suede black boots I bought last week. They weren't draped in a red and white clearance sign; only a measly white $5 off sign. A $5 delimna that took me two hours to fork over my Visa because they were nearly full price. If time were money, I'd be in foreclosure over those winter foot warmers with bold-but-sassy-buckles. Sadly, there isn't a weekly meeting for that one.

With the economy the way it is, isn't everyone cutting back a little? After all, I had to buy an espresso maker so I could forgo my weekly pleasure of raspberry and steamed soy swirled in piping hot goodness. Ok, maybe that's not the kind of example I was thinking of. But seriously, haven't you caught yourself saying, "For vacation this year let's go camping and search for new wildlife...er, in our own backyard" or "Let's plan a romantic dinner...er, in?"

Instead of getting angry over the economic crunch, society has definitely taken a kinder and gentler approach to denial, "Simplify your life" Oprah exclaims. Of course, while you're shopping garage sales to Reduce, Re-Use and Recycle, she's eating escargot and fine wine in Barbados and buying $80 slings to hold her "Sisters" up... "Made in China" of course. Just sayin'.

There's a lot going on in each of our lives, but when it comes down to it, aren't we all just trying to survive? At times I find it hard to be thankful for having to put an extra sweater on rather than turning on the heat, going vegetarian for a meal, or choosing water over an overpriced bubbly with syrup; but at the end of the day, when the coins are all placed neatly in a row, there's more to happiness than "having it all".

I don't know, I keep telling myself that anyways.

Monday Panties are Always Dirty

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Ever have one of those clocks that didn't have a snooze button? It would go off, you'd slam it against the wall and then have to explain how your clock "malfunctioned". (Expressed with finger quotes as you explained to co-workers of course). How did our parents ever survive without the "big bump on the top of the clock"? I mean, they walked miles in the hail and snow, they only got paid $27 a week...but not having a snooze button? Torture at its cruelest!

Mondays are the days when we love our snooze button the most. Except for those that have to work Saturdays. Or those who have the night shift on the weekend. Ok, so maybe Mondays aren't so bad when you put it that way.

Kids look at Mondays so differently than adults do. My daughter rubbed her eyes as day broke today, sat up in bed and said, "Mommy, I love Mondays." She then proceeded to tell me how she was going to wear her "Monday panties". (You know, the ones kids have with the days of the week on them. Who thought of this insane gimmick? Whenever it's a certain day of the week, it never fails that the day you're looking for is in the dirty clothes!) Maybe I'd like Mondays better if I had a pair of Monday panties... Of course my daughter then began to cry because she couldn't find her "Monday panties". Maybe this is why people grow up not liking Mondays. The "Monday panties" could never be found. It's always the Mother's fault. Darn! Society IS right!

I think if adults could look at Mondays differently, things would be different. Of course if corporations would grant the "come into work at 11:00am" on Mondays, there might be less grumbling from the masses. Seriously...Why do Fridays get all the fun? After all, it's always "Casual Friday"... Fred, in accounting, gets to Hang 10 in his red and yellow (aka...ugly) Hawaiian shirt while reimbursing Tisha in her 80's spandex. Hopefully all takes place out of the fax room. Ever notice how "Casual Friday" is begging for a visit from Stacy London and Clinton Kelly? Just sayin...

So, snooze hitters of the world...unite! For today you have the freedom to pound and slam as you never have before. Whether you're a conservative Republican on the heels of McCain, or a "change seeker" (not pennies mind you) holding a free bumper sticker and screaming "Obama" at the top of your lungs, you have the choice. You, with that stuff that Mama called "sleep" in your eyes. You, with drool on your pillow and a left over migraine from red hot buffalo wings at the church get-to-gether. YOU have the choice! Rejoice!


*MEDICAL ADVISEMENT - After rejoicing and hitting the "modern marvel" sixteen million times, find those dirty "Monday Panties", get dressed and hurry your coffee-stained trousers to the office before you are LATE!!!!

(Welcome to another Monday.)

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The author of this blog does not take responsibility for writing and posting past the time that everyone is actually completed with the work day. Apparently her snooze button (and "Monday Panties") were no where to be found.

Don't let the door hit you...

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Over the past several weeks I've really tried to be more patient...more relaxed... Less of the "OMG I'm so high-strung that I'm going to take my sandal off and whack it against my head now!" and more of the "Oh, I see. Thanks for that tidbit of information" *fake smile*.

I thought I was doing well until last night. I couldn't even sit through dinner at home without wondering why the heck everyone was chewing their food like they were an honorable guest at The Last Supper. Seriously, I saw more jaw action at our table than those happy California cows could provide... in a decade.

Then this morning it hit me. (Not the shoe mind you). I'm frantic over this pending contract with our home. Thoughts of shacking up in an Extended-Stay are not doing much for zen thoughts of serenity and solitude. Even if I took a yoga class and I was able to perfectly align my Chakra somehow (yeah...whatever!), I fear I'd give up on downward dog and rebel with a trip to Starbucks. And God hold me back, because a double-shot of espresso is NOT what I need right now. Unless you want demolition on that property you hope to flip. Seriously, that could be arranged.

I'm also livid over the fact that our daughter's school removed us from the waiting list and now I might have to home-school for another year. What's that you say, "you'll attract flies with honey". *You shrink shrink back and cower* Listen *grabbing you by the collar*, I've stolen Winnie the Pooh's big old honey pot and I'm running around town shouting, "Nah nah nah nah boo boo". I'm in THAT kind of mood. I know, certainly not the type of honey you're talking about. So sue me.

I think becoming a Mom makes you this way. Crazy. I was never this way before I had a kid. My blood pressure looks like one of those cheap Big Lot thermometers laying outside on a hot Nevada day. You know, the one right next to the fried egg on the black asphalt? Heck even an entire bar of Hershey's can't quell the sparks of fire surging out of the top of my head. I'm able to make Smores, but not sit cross-legged and say, "Ohm". I have a problem with that.

I think the restlessness also comes with the fact that the kiddo is in school right now and I'm bored out of my mind...waiting. Something I've never been good at. You know how business men flippantly say, "Well, if this merger isn't going to happen, it's not going to happen" *leaning back in their leather chair...waiting for the next guy's move*...? Let's just say, I like to get things done. Bing Bam Boom... You want it or you don't. Don't let the door hit you on the way out.

I'm not sure about you, but I'm not into lolly-gagging and laying amongst a field of daisies. Naked or not. Deciphering depictions of bunnies and dragons in the clouds just makes me look at my watch...and I won't do it secretly either. Someone says it's the Asian woman in me. Nature vs. Nurture I suppose, because as you know I put the Asian in Caucasian. Hand me a bowl of sticky rice and perhaps I can be stalled to see a hippo floating in the sky. I'll lie for high glucose levels. After all, that's my drug of choice.

Seriously, one word, "Agggggh".
(And that wasn't a pirate. Oh wait...that would have been "Arrrgh". Nevermind.)

*update: It's gotten so bad, I had to put my running shoes on... I'm not sure if I'm running away, or just need a little more "spring action"*

Who's the drip in the room?

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It's almost 11pm and low and behold, there's a "drip, drip, drip" coming from the bathroom. Assuming it's the cat playing in the toilet water, I roll my eyes and sigh. As I walk into the bathroom I notice that the cat was sitting right next to me on the sofa. "Was" as in...until I got up. Sorry Butterbutt, apparently my pumpkin (and brain) turns mush when the clock strikes 10.

Pumpkin, as in...the 4 bedroom we're living in. A saving grace..yes, despite the lack of treble reverberating the walls from the foursome next door. College. Gotta love it...ten plus years ago that is.

The "drip, drip, drip" isn't the sink faucet, nor the tub faucet. And then it hits me. Literally. I'm standing in a pool of murky water as I'm bombarded by water pellets falling from...the ceiling. I grab a dishpan, but today's modern marvel (from Tarje') has rounded corners and doesn't quite reach the drips...dropping in the corner.

As I stand there with a piece of popcorn ceiling on my nose, two tunes spring into my noggin:

- There's a hole in my Bucket...dear Liza...dear Liza. (everybody in unison now...)

And...

- The roof...the roof...

I don't know why the last one came up. Maybe it's because I know there's so much mold in that ceiling that I assume they'll have to set it on fire to kill it all. When I awake in a bubble with air tanks (like a scene from ET) I'll scream, "I told you so". I'll make sure I post a picture though. It'll be a laugh for all at least. Much obliged.

Mold. It's not a friend. Just sayin'... No really..I'm not a drip, but there IS a drip somewhere in the room. Hey, anyone got a square to spare?

Mondays - They're not just for SAHMs anymore

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Why doesn't the week start on a Tuesday? Why don't we get paid on Mondays? After all, the Bangles were convinced that Mondays weren't as fun as Sunday...and that was over 10 years ago, when religion meant a solemn face and a hymn from a dilapidated hymn book. So, what is it about rainy days and Mondays that always gets everyone down? (Nope...don't get it about rainy days either.)

Maybe Mondays are despised so much because most people go back to work. But really, if you're not looking forward to returning to work, doesn't it just mean it might be time to check the classifieds? Need a new boss? Need a challenge or two? It's not the day of the week. It's life in general. Moms walking their children to school at the crack of dawn aren't holding a cup of Starbucks because they don't like Mondays...are they? I mean, I always figured they just wanted to liven up so they could be the early bird at the clearance sales. Oh wait...Mondays usually aren't known for their red and white signs. Score 1 for Friday. I'm beginning to see your point.

I think that Mondays are synonymous with dread because everyone complains how they are tired and didn't get much sleep over the weekend. But couple that with recaps of weekend rendezvous and vacation getaways, and Mondays are a great day for you to boast about your co-worker's financial shortcomings. Note how great of a domino effect this can be too. How "Neil" at the front desk feels...I'm not so sure. But it's Monday. Buy him lunch to brighten his day. See, Mondays aren't so bad. For Neil now anyways. Unless his lactose intolerance kicked in after he ate your grilled cheese and broccoli cheddar soup from the deli on 5th. Neil's not happy...and well...the whole office smells like Apple Mountain Lysol.

Did you get your thumb tacked by the stapler? Were you blinded by the copier machine when you didn't put the lid down...or worse...you shook the toner cartridge and it exploded? Did you get sprayed by the automatic toilet as it flushed as you sat in despair, holding your head in hand...reaching out in sympathy only to realize there was no square to spare for the derriere? Blame it on the "M word". It's accepted at studios, home offices and corporate headquarters worldwide.

Ok, so now you've heard the ad for Mondays. There is truth in it.

Crazy comes in 5's on Thursdays...

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Life in general is crazy. I mean, what's it to me that I've been working non-stop? Sure it's taking me away from what I want to be doing, but I can't really complain. Heck, at least I'm writing! Plus this month I did have money to buy "Wicked" tickets and to buy a pair of lamps. Light? It's nice to be able to see when you're sitting in a room. Darkness isn't your friend when you're trying to page through a magazine for a new hairstyle. Nor is it your friend when you're trying to play cards. Of course, if I went emo or was into magic tricks...

Speaking of crazy, because we are, I've got a couple of things to add to my repertoire:

(1) I'm not only all the things my profile says about me, but now I get to add "a writer with carpel tunnel". I can't seem to catch a break. If I suddenly decided that I was going to be a professional hot dog eater, I'd probably catch lockjaw from a tainted fork. I've decided to go with the flow and wear my "wristbands of steel". Watch out Wonder Woman! *clink clink*

(2) Madison is going to be an outcast because of me. It just has to be accepted. One day, several weeks ago, I was trying to make turkey meatballs. They kept falling apart in the pan so I said, "Oh geez, you MEATBALLS!" Now, when Madison gets in trouble she puts on this very serious face, then out of nowhere grins and screams, "MEATBALLS!" ...and runs off. On bad days she twirls around in circles chanting, "Meatballs, Meatballs, Meatballls..." If I wrote Super Nanny, you think she'd send a cheesy response? I know, that was bad. "MEATBALLS!" *running away*

(3) I've recently become a follower of Dr. Oz. Wait, not "Ding Dong the Witch is Dead" Oz, Oprah's guy. So now I'm eating blueberries and a myriad of bright colored vegetables, and I've taken my family along on the ride as well. The other day I saw he mentioned that a glass of red wine was worthy only because of the alcohol. You don't actually get the benefits of the grapes if the alcohol isn't there. In addition, lycopene in tomatoes works better with a little olive oil. See, not only am I crazy, but I'm educational as well. Yay for alcohol and crusty garlic bread with saucy spaghetti! Just sayin'...

(4) Madison was just accepted into a local Pre-K program; 2 days a week for 2 hours at no cost. I don't know whether to rejoice or to simply do a jig. My sassy 3-year-old has no clue that soon she'll be singing the likes of nursery rhymes and learning about feathers, french fries and fiddlesticks on "F" day"... and I have no clue what I'm going to do with my four hours of freedom, but I'm sure I'll think of SOMETHING! By the way, I just told her that next week she's going to start school. She's now screaming, "Whoo Hooo" and doing a jig. Hey, at least it's not "meatballs"...

(5) I don't know why I couldn't just end with 4. Maybe it's my incessant need for order and lists that come in 3's, 5's or 10'. Maybe it's because there are a mound of dishes to do and I'm procrastinating...


Gotta love Thursdays. Got any crazy at your end? Spill so I don't feel lonely too...