Thursday, May 26, 2016

my eyebrows tell the story

I am in Colorado.
My mom had valve repair surgery a week ago.
I have had the privilege of getting to be here during part of her recovery.
It has been so good to be with her.
And so hard to see her in pain. Ugh.

She is a trooper. She is determined. And she is funny.
Yesterday when Dad and I were trying to figure out who would leave to get dinner
and who would stay in the room, Mom said, "I think I will leave."
She is ready to be done with all this.

The last week has been good and stressful and crazy.
Just yesterday before heading into the hospital,
I happened to catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror.

Sweet Mercy Days.
My eyebrows looked wild.
I had to go dig through my mom's bathroom drawer to find a pair
of tweezers.

For some reason, when my life gets crazy, my eyebrows are the first thing to go.

I am on the tail end of 8 months of writing deadlines.
I re-injured my back right before mom's surgery and am walking around like a 90 year old.
It is the last week of school for the boys and I am half way across the country.
I have jury duty in a week.

And my eyebrows?
I am Ernest Borgnine's doppelganger.

Sorry, Scott.
My husband REALLY notices eyebrows.
Which is ironic since I am REALLY horrible with eyebrow upkeep...

Partly because I have terrible vision and without my glasses I can't see my own eyebrows
so plucking them is in an exercise in blindness.

Partly because when stress creeps in I don't even think about my eyebrows.

I looked at my eyebrows and thought of Barbie, Leslie, Melissa and Darshini...
all my friends who have done eyebrow interventions for me over the years.
(I am not eyebrows have merited friendly concern...followed by plucking or waxing.)

And I did my eyebrows.
For me. And for Scott. Because I get to see him tomorrow
and I don't want him thinking,
"Why do I want to watch Dr. Zhivago when I look into Sue's eyes?"

Mom is on the mend.
Life is good even when it is crazy.
Tomorrow I get to hug all 4 of my boys.
And my eyebrows look a little better.
Things are looking up.

Thursday, May 5, 2016

whatever you do today....don't buy a swimsuit from China

I have been on a deadline lock down for the past few months.
This means lots of time in front of my computer.
Open prey for the lure of the many ads online.

And I saw an ad for a cute tankini swimsuit.
I am partial to the tankini since I am long-waisted.
Most one pieces give me a wedgie.

I should have told myself,
"Sue.....surely you know that EVERY swimsuit you have
ever bought has been bought after trying on 713 swimsuits."

And seemed like they offered a fool proof way to get the right size.
They had you measure yourself and choose your size accordingly.

So really this was like a couture swimsuit.
Sewn according to my personal dimensions.

And it was only $17.
The clincher.
I am a sucker for a good deal.

I didn't realize I was buying it from overseas until
after I paid and a message came up,
"Will be shipped in 4-6 weeks."

It took a month to get here.
And yesterday, I opened it and started laughing.

Apparently, they measured the top half of my swimsuit at
about a women's size 18.
And the bottom half?
A 3T.
I could donate it to a preschooler.

I am neither a size 18 or a size 3T....just in case you were wondering.

My son, Will, saw the bottoms and said,
"No, Mom. Just no."

Thought you might like to see the difference between my board shorts
and the new tankini bottoms.

You can understand Will's concern.
I know what you are thinking....
"That is way worse than a wedgie."
Yes. Yes it is.

I am a full coverage kind of girl.
I have had enough scarring lately with revealing more of myself than I intended to.

Lesson learned.
I am passing my world wide web lesson on to you.
The next time you feel tempted to buy a swimsuit on-line just tell yourself,
"Maybe I will just visit the toddler's section at my favorite store and see what they have."

It's not a complete loss.
I think I'll save the tankini bottoms for my niece, Lily.
She is 6 months old. They might fit her next year.

Thursday, April 14, 2016

there is no such thing as a monkey dream

Last night, Scott sat on the couch between our cat, Toby and our new dog, Flash.
Toby seemed a little cagey.
Mostly, because Flash was trying to smell his nether regions.
Flash looked clueless.

We think Flash has selective vision. Sometimes he sees Toby and freaks out.
Other times he walks by him completely unaware of his presence.
And Scott? Scott was in heaven.

He has been training them to eat next to each other.
He longs for them to be best friends.
I am thinking Toby is not down with the idea.
Seeing that he has tried to claw Flash's eyes out on several occasions.

But the other day, Scott looked at me and said,
"The dream is almost complete...all we need is a monkey."

Because two teenagers, a ten year old boy,
 a dog, a cat and a hamster are not enough.

What dream is this, you are asking?
The carny dream?
Has my husband been dreaming of running a side show out of our living room?

Yes, he has.

For some reason, he has harbored the golden dream of owning a dog
who comes with a tiny saddle,
that is ridden by a monkey.

This dream has secretly been fed by the knowledge that the pastor's wife of his youth

Scott likes to call me the dream killer.
I say I am practical.

Let's just start by saying that our dog is tiny.
So a chimpanzee would crush it. Even a spider monkey is too big.
Not that I would allow a spider monkey.
Didn't we all learn from Ross in Friends and Outbreak that spider monkeys are Satan's minions?
We did.

And then there is the fact that Flash is part Jack Russel terrier.
I have seen him mortally wound a Beanie Baby kitten,
a plush Angry Bird and throttle a Perry the Platypus puppet.
He shakes the life out of them.

So if in fact there were a small enough monkey to ride Flash?
He would revert to his hunting instincts and make a snack of it.

And then as far as the monkey goes?
I did diapers for years. Years.
I am not diapering a monkey.

That being said. I don't want to be a dream killer.
But how about we go with something less wild...
something that is not able to pull out our hair or poke our eyes with its tiny thumbs?

How about a dog, a cat, a hamster and....a goldfish?
I would even be open to a lizard or salamander.
As long as it is kept outside.

I'm not unreasonable.
But all I know is that the monkey dream is one that will have to wait until heaven.

Or until Scott decides to quit pastoring and take up with the rodeo.
Where they actually have monkeys that ride dogs.

Then I guess....
the dream really would be complete.