I Love This One

I've posted this three years in a row now, but I'm under pressure and needed a quick poem. I'll have more new stuff tomorrow.


The Monster Under My Bed

There’s a monster under my bed.
It’s furry with big orange paws.
Did you see it?
The tip of a whisker?
The orange tail?
The claws?!
It is really very frightening.
I’m scared!
Oh, what should I do?
I can hear it growling
And moving around under there too!!
Wait a minute...
Hold on…
What do you think?
How about that?
The growling sounds a lot like purring…
Silly me! It’s just my CAT

Show Me How to Do That!

Magic

Blow.
On my fist, blow.
Go on.
Oh! It’s gone!
But where?
Where can it be?
In your ear?
In your hair?
Behind your knee?
Oh, you got me!

Hey, It's April!

Know what that means? It's National Poetry Month. Who's up for writing with me?


April, the month, can be fun
With the flowers and warming spring sun
But I'm stuck in this place
On a poetic chase
Since my 1-a-day task has begun.


See. They don't have to be good. If you write too, let me know so we can link up!

Unfortunately I was drinking coffee when I read this.

Check out the Grandpa's post (http://wordmechanic.blogspot.com/2010/03/be-careful-where-you-put-things.html) from yesterday. It's hilarious. Be warned, though, hot coffee in your sinuses hurts... As a person with low self esteem (PwLSE), I particularly felt the first one.

...and I was like, "Basic cable and a minivan? What is this? 1992?"

I'm so funny. Listen to this joke I told:

We were trying to make dinner plans on a recent Friday with some Catholic friends of ours and I told the husband that they needed to decide where to go since they were the ones with the diet restrictions (no meat on Friday) and he said that I should decide since we were the ones who invited them and I said that I had picked a place but their no-meat thing had...

Oh never mind. I think you had to be there. Instead you should enjoy this photo of my Tiny Gardener.

Time Machine Wanted

I am a reactive person. And impulsive. Those are different enough that I think it's right to list both. Husbandguy isn't good with the foresight either, and neither of us is good at telling the other "no" when something is wanted. This has led to several (hundred) spur-of-the-moment decisions and consequential bail-outs down the road. Like a new car we couldn't quite afford (HG's impulse - Poppop bailed us out) and a For Sale sign in our front yard (my desire - we are just bailing on that). We love the car, still have it and use it way more than we would have the old car, and have learned our lesson about shiny, new-smelling things that we just can't pay for. The house is kind of the same thing, I think. Except in this case, the shiny new thing was a larger paycheck. Why not, then, a larger debt (mortgage)? Right?

We can absolutely use more space. Sure, we can (and will) pare down all the crap we have that we don't need, and the tiny kitchen works, it just doesn't have room for more than 1½ people in it at a time. But the girls and the dog all need a place to run outside, and we, being lazy, decided to take the easy route and just buy a back yard, not considering that, because of the real estate market we would probably have to take quite a bit less money than we wanted to sell the back yard we already have. It occurred to us; we just didn't consider it. You know?

Yesterday I realized that we were looking at it all wrong. Yes, a larger paycheck is nice. Yes, a larger paycheck means that we could have a larger space to call home. Yes, we are constantly stepping on each other and there's nowhere here to go for quiet time what with the giant TV right in the center of everything and always on (don't get me started on that - it's not on now, by the way, because I'm home alone). But we have ⅓ acre of land, and at the bottom of the steep hill that begins a scant 10 ft from the back of the house is a nice flat area. Sure it floods when it rains a lot, and right now it's heavily wooded, but the right people, with a little know-how and a larger paycheck (see where I'm going?) could turn the giant, currently unusable space into a fenced, grassy haven where there could be dogs and children running around safely and perhaps a gazebo (HG wants this) for quiet no-TV time and a swing set. And then when the market turns around and we list our house again, potential buyers won't be able to say they liked the house but want more back yard because it will be beautiful and useful.

My other plan, if this turns out to be too much, is to sell HG's parents' house and move them into this one and get a bigger one for ourselves. But that might actually be more work than a complete back yard overhaul here.

I want to clarify that not all of our spur-of-the-moment decisions have required rescue. We were married within 2 weeks of deciding we really wanted to get married more than 12 years ago. We had been talking about it for a while, but the deed was done lickety-split.

It's like, you know, whatever...

Last night someone I had just met told me that she feels like she knows me. I started to say that I have one of those faces (because I do - seriously - I look like that girl you went to 2nd grade with), but before I could say anything she added, "Because of the Follies. I had fun watching you in the Follies, and I feel like I know you." (first of all, wow! really?)

"Great," I said facetiously, "You know me as Zuzu [a clueless ditz]. That's not good."

And she said, "But I like you!"

We were coming from a meeting at which I managed to have an overwhelming coughing fit and had to leave the room just as the meeting was starting, and when I got back and everyone (EVERYONE) inquired whether I was okay, I said, "I'm just trying to get out of participating." Am I clever or what?

Don't say "Or what," because you'll hurt my feelings. Unless you're being funny. Then you'll only mock-hurt my feelings.

Back on track: It's been a long time since anyone outside of the Follies 2010 Writing Team has mentioned Zuzu (not counting my kids) or me in the Follies at all. It was cool of her to say something because, frankly, the glow was starting to wear off for me. Sure, I'm all participatey in the writing of the Next Big Show with all my funny suggestions and whatnot (at least 2 of my ideas are definitely IN the show in October), and that's cool and creative and those 6 people on the team with me appreciate me, but with all the other stuff, the house not selling, me messing up Lulu's educational future, the dog costing $80,000,000,000 and not having anything wrong with her, I haven't seen my mom in forever and she's only an hour away, etc., etc., etc... WHIIINE... Where was I? Oh, right. It was nice to feel special for a moment.

And isn't it weird that she was so affected by my performance that she remembers it even now, 5 months later? Maybe not weird, but... you know.

Hi. My Name Is Bel, and I Have a Problem

I am certain that my family is the only family that deals with this issue. It seems like such an unlikely problem for a small group of people who love each other very much to have. Our children, Sweet Pete and Lovely Lulu, suffer from a terrible affliction. It's awful, really. It makes everyone miserable. And irritable. And loud.

Oddly, the problem crops up mainly when they are in proximity to each other. Separately, they don't seem to suffer much at all. Oh, every once in a while one of them will exhibit the occasional bout here and there, but those instances that occur when they are apart seem infinitely more manageable than when they are together. Husbandguy and I have considered that perhaps they are allergic to each other, but unfortunately we think the difficulty is not actually something that can be treated with Benadryl or immune-building allergy shots.

I'm just going to say it. The first step to solving a problem is admitting it, right?

My darlings suffer from... suffer from... I can't say it. It's too terrible... Okay. Deep breath... Our beautiful girls have... AAUGGHHH! THEYHAVESIBLINGRIVALRY!!!

There. I said it. That was sooo hard to admit. You should be grateful that you don't have to deal with this. I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy. Well, maybe my worst enemy. But not the 2 of you, my faithful readers.

Don't try to claim that your children also talk over each other and tattle on each other and take each other's toys/markers/shoes/etc. and shove each other and whine, "STOP IIIT!" or "MOahOM!" (seriously. that's what it sounds like. not normal, right?) and complain non-stop about everything or intentionally get into trouble so that the focus is shifted away from the other child and onto her. I won't believe you if you say it happens to you. It's too terrible, too difficult, too miserable-making for other families to possibly be experiencing it too. There can't be that much negative energy in the world.

So what are our options, we wonder. We've considered sending one of them to live with grandparents but cannot decide which to send away and which to keep. It's not an option that one of us takes one of them and lives somewhere else (although I'd move with Pete to the house we saw on Monday if I had to) (what? I didn't say anything). Yesterday afternoon I made a rule that they weren't allowed to talk to each other, but that only worked for about half-an-hour, and I had to really focus on paying attention to both of them at the same time for it to work.

Sigh... I don't know. Poor me...

It's Not Just Because I Win Sometimes

I love this blog (<--that's just a link to my featured post from last week, which is incredibly witty, but you know that you can click the title at the top of the page to see the whole blog, right?).

Thanks, you guys, for stroking my ego again!

A Leprechaun Visited Lulu While She Was Away this Morning

Lulu didn't catch the tricky guy, but she did get his hat, his shamrocks, and several of his pennies (she knows they're not gold) and then spent several minutes looking under things in case he was still around. Pete got a quarter to keep my secret.