Silly Haiku Wednesday

Jenn's theme this week is LIGHT.

My tall boy needs no

step ladder or chair to change
a light bulb. He's tall.

I woke up -- the light

outside seemed different. "Get
up! We've overslept!!"

Thy word is a lamp

unto my feet, and thus a
light unto my path.

Is it bad . . . ?

Is it bad that as I look out my kitchen window (as I stand at my sink, in classic "Diary of a Mad Housewife" fashion), it appears that one of our three cats has . . . how shall I put this? . . . taken a dump in the deck chairs?

Does it make it better or worse that I choose to believe that this is an acorn collection -- yeah, that's it! An acorn collection. Oh, please, dear God -- let it be an acorn collection. And is it a good thing or a bad thing that I have made a decision NOT TO FIND OUT?

OK. A bad thing. I guess I should investigate. Oh, please. Oh, please.

Score! Acorns!

Is it bad that I truly wasn't sure how this post was going to end . . . ? Don't answer that.

Oktoberfest

Oh, pipe down -- I know it's not October yet. Apparently the Germans love Oktoberfest so much you're allowed to celebrate it early. Or it officially starts early. Or my party hosts couldn't read the calendar. Whatever.

It wouldn't be Oktoberfest unless we enjoyed some brats along with sauer kraut and potato salad. Did you know that it is illegal to serve any sort of green vegetable at an Oktoberfest party? Totally against the law.

You are allowed to serve wine, though. Ask me to tell you about Oktoberfest monkey wine some time. It's a scary story -- maybe for Halloween.

But as you have probably gathered, we all just really like each other, and are glad of any excuse to get together. The fabulous neighbor told a ridiculous story, and since he's from New York he is completely incapable of talking without acting out the drama . . .

. . . even with a broken thumb.

I missed the punch line, but it must have been a humdinger.

Jolie Blonde's big day

So Coleen's oldest girl, Jolie Blonde, has been begging to get her ears pierced since she was about fourteen weeks old. I'm telling you -- there was never a girl who was in more of a hurry to grow up. Mostly this has shown itself in her mature outlook on life and her fabulosity as a BFF to my youngest girl. Also in her refusal to wear ruffles.

Jolie Blonde: 2nd grade

But Coleen has had years of experience watching out for the sneaky use of eyeliner and mascara (second grade), the intense need for blue-streaked hair (fifth grade) and the "I'll die if it doesn't happen" passion for dangly earrings (lifetime achievement award).

Well, Friday was the day she got those ears pierced, because (pause for wipe of bittersweet tear) she's thirteen now. The youngest urchin and I went along for the adventure -- we headed to Pincurls, owned by the fabulous Lynda Lee, and gathered with bated breath to watch the drama.

First, Lynda marked the perfect spot with a special pen which I suspect was just a Sharpie with a hifalutin' label. The heart-faced urchin watching so intently is Coleen's youngest girl -- my god-daughter!

Next, Lynda prepared the instrument of torture weapon cute little non-threatening ear piercing thingie.

Nope! Doesn't look like a gun at all, does it?

At the moment of truth, Lynda said some serious and slightly scary stuff like, "Don't move a muscle even if it hurts like a big dog, because if you do your ear will get stuck to the gun and then you'll have to wear it instead of an earring forever, and you'll get kicked out of school for bringing a weapon, and I'll have to charge you extra for the gun/earring." Or something like that. Actually it was over in a flash -- and now her dream has come true! She's way easier to shop for now, too.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, JOLIE BLONDE!

Here's what I love:

. . . Saturday evenings with the fabulous neighbors.

Sometimes we plan an actual block party and I say "we" in the sense that I show up with my assigned potluck supper dish, after the fabulous neighbors have done all the scut work.

But sometimes (like last Saturday) we throw together a more last-minute, spontaneous, "you bring the paper plates because I've only got napkins," pizza in the cul-de-sac night.

Funny -- I sense that some fabulous neighbors
hate to be photographed . . .

. . . while their husbands hog the camera.

I bonded with my tall boy, who loves to sit back and listen to the jibber-jabber.

As the night got cooler, we were happy to have the fire pit (courtesy of the fabulous neighbors, of course). The youngest urchin and her street sister pulled out the cozy blankets and kept on partying.

More fabulous neighbors -- parents of the street sister.

Blaze the wonder dog watches the . . . well, I guess he's watching the blaze, isn't he?

Silly Haiku Wednesday

Jenn's haiku theme this week is MUSIC. Oh, my dears!

The radio plays;
An iPod playlist shuffles:
"Ooh! I love that song!"

I love to belt out
"Paradise by the Dashboard
Light." It kills my kids!

The hymn says it all:
"How can I keep from singing?"
The theme of my life.

CAST YOUR VOTE!

Prom night, 1979

OK, so the oldest girl is going to the Homecoming Dance with a big group of pals. Is this a thing where you live? The girls all say, "Let's meet at the Homecoming dance!" instead of waiting around for some guy to get up the nerve to ask . So the guys don't bother asking, because the girls all have plans to go with their girl friends. Sometimes the boys actually go to the dance and meet up with the girls, but sometimes they don't. This doesn't seem to bother the girls at all.

Well -- we went dress shopping this weekend, and it was fun, if traumatic. I'll tell you what -- gone are the days of the Gunne Sax and ballet slippers of our (or at least my) youth. My mom made the prom dress of my dreams from a Gunne Sax pattern; this one was for my sister's beautiful prom dress. They don't sell pinafores and smocked jumpers in my girl's size, unfortunately. If they did, she would eat glass rather than wear one . . . . It makes me sad but in a good way.

We narrowed the choices down from eleventy-two to six, and now we have some serious decisions to make. And here is where my girl and I need your help! Check out the finalists that my girl with the sophisticated taste chose and cast your vote for the perfect Homecoming dress. Here are the choices (in the order she tried them on at the mall -- along with several hundred other teen-aged beauty queens):

Number 1: the simplicity of black and white (this year's theme) plus it's strapless which will make her father berserk -- so that's good.

Number 2: She looked great in this color, but it had a tulle underskirt = itchy. Is the beauty worth the pain? I think we all know the answer.

Number 3: Very subtle shimmer in the fabric of this stunning dress made it catch the eye of everyone in the dressing room. Again with the strapless -- and is it a little short for a fifteen-year-old? A dilemma.

Number 4: Lovely, sophisticated dress -- with the vague worry that the flowy white scarfy thing will get dunked into the dip.

Number 5: A non-starter. She came out of the dressing room and said, "Michelle Obama would look great in this dress." She decreed that it's too old for her -- in a mom way, which is bad (sorry moms, including Mrs. Obama!).

Number 6: You can't see because of the sketchy photograph (sorry!) but this dress had very pretty vertical sequin stripes.

Number 7: Very sassy and fun, but uh-oh! Tulle netting: again with the itchy!

OK! Cast your votes and we'll see what we come up with! Thanks for the help -- we really need some decision-making mojo!

Footwear Fashion Makeover

Last February I found these gorgeous boots, and I bought them immediately because I am a member of Bossy's Poverty Party, and thus I am very frugal. That very day, because God apparently loves the frugal, I fell down the stairs and got another style of boot:

I got to wear this bad boy for, oh, about twelve weeks and three and one fourth days, if I had to give you a rough estimate. The time just flew by! My doctor also gave me the excellent news that I have a genetic blah-blah, which causes the bones in my blah to blah-blah: to sum up I am a foot mutant, and will probably break my foot again which will require surgery, and by the way, about wearing all those glamour shoes in my closet? Not so much. I paraphrase.

Not that I have much opportunity for glamour shoes, but it's nice to dream, and there has never been a day so bad that a kicky little pair of red pumps didn't make it seem just a small bit brighter. I wear these while I'm gardening.

Well, last week I defied the medical skeptics and (dramatic pause) wore the new boots! So far I have lived through the ordeal. The praise for my footwear was epic at the middle school back-to-school night, let me tell you. [Like my oldest girl's toes?]

I just love these boots!

A mystery . . . .

I really don't understand this . . . .

These mums were purchased together.

They live ten feet away from each other, in the same garden home -- same shade, same sun, same rainfall, same cat peeing near them.


They have been cared for identically, where cared for equals ignored and forgotten.

Explanation?? Anyone??

tangent: As I've said, I find mums to be snooty -- the perky cheerleaders of the flower world, just because they are the preferred Homecoming corsage choice. Bitches.

Silly Haiku Wednesday

I can really go to town on Jenn's theme this week: CHAOS! Have mercy, people -- she's singing my song!

What looks like chaos

to you makes me feel as though
something's getting done.

Chaos theory: math,
physics, and randomness: the
butterfly effect!

I thrive on chaos.

I really do -- it's just the
laundry that kills me.