‘Tis the season to ask all the wrong questions

The thing about writing a blog is that there’s a written account of things I meant to do….or things I wish I had never done….but most often of things that make me look a fool. It’s not a talent, mind you, I am just naturally foolish. Foolish and not very shy. Case in point, my ambitious rule of the PTA bulletin board at Gavin’s school.

Oh excuse me, that’s my amniotic fluid

In the grand scheme of that whole giving-birth-to-a-child business, I have to say that I ruled that process with as much obsessive controlling behavior as I do most other things in my life. Did I wait around wondering at what moment Gavin would decide to make his entrance into the world? No. Did I want to get stuck in traffic on I-40 during the rush hour commute while pretending to know how to do Lamaze? No. Did my doctor let me schedule induced labor 2 weeks before the actual due date? Hell yes. When it comes to obgyn-ing, he rules.

But it still doesn’t match the decor

My sister told me that she woke up last night to find the TV on HSN, which was featuring adult toys. She was a bit disturbed (so she says) but my first thoughts were What kind of goods is HSN carrying? Who was the sexy slut modeling the strap ons? Do they have payment plans?

The very definition of excellence

It’s possible that I received the best phone call in the world this morning. Second only to getting the call from HBO saying Jermaine and
Bret are requesting my personal Pilates skills on set. I know, reach for the stars, right? The HBIC of the PTA called and asked me to help. Wait, she didn’t just ask me to help, she buttered me up first. I love a slut