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Oh woe. I'm drowning in kin.
The open house was swell, as reported back by the realtor. Although her definition of swell is that nobody bought the house. So we've been having many many swell days. Swell. And sweltering. It's 95 today and my head feels sooooo heavy. What is this sensation? Heavy head? It just keeps bobbing around like it's going to roll off my neck and into my Honey Bunches of Oats. I'm okay with the hot. I like the bakey feeling of oppressive heat. But children are not like this. They start to do bad things to their moms and then sass us and then draw on the leather couch with black markers. Then they won't go to sleep and wake up too early and then they go to swim lessons and Summer Camp School and leave their mommies alone with their heavy heads hanging in their breakfast cereal. Kids! Come back and pull my head from my cereal please?
I had a soccer game last night and everyone was out of synch and I was grouchy and angry at Lisa for not being able to pass the ball properly and then I left early from the game in a huff for no good reason. I drank my entire purple Nalgene bottle of water in the car as I fumed about my fading soccer skills then when I got home I found a thick layer of black mold around the bottom of the bottle. Then I had a dream last night that I was back in college, in pre-season soccer practice. My coach pulled me aside and told me that I had lost my strength and speed and might not make the team, so I went back to my dorm room to stew and cry and Richard Crenna was there, trying to find some porn on my laptop. He was an old family friend but thought that maybe we should have sex. I told him I didn't have time and that I needed to go lift weights. I have a pretty good guess about the first half, but the second half stumps me.
I apologize to all my best B-list buddies for not being able to come see you, but family visits are overwhelming, as is the heat, as is the stress of (not) selling a house, as is trying to keep said (unsold) house sparkling clean with said family and said heat so that at any moment some sucker can come and take a peek and buy this rat trap. At least I'm not smelling the piss any more. I got that going for me, which is nice. (If you can name the reference, you get a prize.)
Love and snuggles,
Mignon
I had a soccer game last night and everyone was out of synch and I was grouchy and angry at Lisa for not being able to pass the ball properly and then I left early from the game in a huff for no good reason. I drank my entire purple Nalgene bottle of water in the car as I fumed about my fading soccer skills then when I got home I found a thick layer of black mold around the bottom of the bottle. Then I had a dream last night that I was back in college, in pre-season soccer practice. My coach pulled me aside and told me that I had lost my strength and speed and might not make the team, so I went back to my dorm room to stew and cry and Richard Crenna was there, trying to find some porn on my laptop. He was an old family friend but thought that maybe we should have sex. I told him I didn't have time and that I needed to go lift weights. I have a pretty good guess about the first half, but the second half stumps me.
I apologize to all my best B-list buddies for not being able to come see you, but family visits are overwhelming, as is the heat, as is the stress of (not) selling a house, as is trying to keep said (unsold) house sparkling clean with said family and said heat so that at any moment some sucker can come and take a peek and buy this rat trap. At least I'm not smelling the piss any more. I got that going for me, which is nice. (If you can name the reference, you get a prize.)
Love and snuggles,
Mignon
posted by Mignon at 10:14 AM
It's hot, it's frickin' hot. Calling it a bakery feeling is beautiful but wrong wrong wrong, not a bakery but standing over the industrial dishwashing machine at a sweltering dirty summer camp kitchen.
That is all.
I hate the heat. Somewhere along the way, I must have lost some of my Mediterranean genes, because I love snuggling up in a blanket with a good book when it's snowy.
P.S. Cleaning is more fun when you blast music and sing into a mop. Not that I would know, or anything.
Tell me about the fading soccer skills. You should ask my wife about my post game moods. Even when we win, I come home feeling like shit because I can't get it done anymore.
On the other hand, since turning the big 5-0 this month, I've been feeling good that I'm still there and able to poke a goal in now and again.
Our whole team was pissy in the first half. What was up with that? Some games are like that. At least we made a valiant second half effort. What was up with Paul? That whiff in front of the goal was pretty pathetic. Oh well, who am I to talk? I just stand there and wait for the ball to come my way. Hey, have you noticed I play right next you on the field?
Cheer up; you're doing fine. We'll pull it together. Jeez. we've only lost one frickin' game!
Oh yeah, Lysa drives me crazy as well. At least Andrea fell off her high heels before the games and no-showed.
I meant to tell you, your soccer poster in the basement (the Yaley one) was way cool. You looked pretty studly. Is it okay to call a woman studly?
i lurve big heat and know of the head thing to which you refer and that is ooky. go chuck yourself in a cold tub and close the bathroom door. while there, defer thoughts of richard crenna for someone a little nicer. i recommend paul bettany. no, wait. he's mine. stay away from my paul bettany! i mean it.
I hate heat. I hate humidity. I hate trying to sell a house in heat and humidity.
I feel for you.
Sorry things are stressful. But getting rid of the phantom piss odor is a triumph!
Nooooo, not Cats (the piss part wasn't in the original quote). Here's a hint: Bill Murray.
Groundhog Day?
Broken Flowers?
p.s. seasons only exist to give some variation to our weather complaints.
Catch any World Cup games? Germany vs. Argentina on Friday...
Dude, it's Caddy Shack.
Hey Mignon,
glad to see you're doing well. You're moving, huh? Same town, new house or new town? I'll read on to see for myself. MIssed your witty words.
kathie
Richard Crenna? Holy crap. Last night I dreamed that George Clooney drove me and my kid to a party, and then later, he and I kissed. And he was a good kisser.
Richard Crenna! Hah.
David Beckham--England. Luca Toni--Italy. Those two World Cup hotties and hotshots are what you need kicking through your heavy head.
Bill M., Caddyshack.
may your house sell quickly, and may your dreams all feature sexxxiness. or whatever your favorite dream features happen to be.
Oh my god you've never gone this long without a post and I can't say I care for this slackitude.
Hang in there, girlfriend. Miss you!
Happy 4th of July. Here in Germany all eyes are on tonights big game. Being 25% Italian I'm not sure just who to pull for.
Eeeeeeewwww! I am still stuck on the mold in the water bottle!!
Sometimes I get in a bad mood funk and woe to those who cross my path (mainly my children and husband!). It will pass. and come back. and pass. and come back.