Sometimes Funny is Embarrassing

I called Jon at 9:00 p.m.

Jon: “So, are you headed to get in a quick workout?”

“Well, not if I’m going to see you.” (It had been three days.) “I’m choosing you over exercise…”

“… ‘cause I was going to say…”

“What? That you would choose you over exercise too?”

“Well, yeah. ‘Cause exercise can’t give you lovin’, but I can give you exercise.”

I laughed out loud. “That’s quite a line there, Jonathan Stadler. Now I have to figure out how to blog about this in an innocent way.”

“Yeah, good luck with that one.”

Why bother trying?

Holidays + Hannah = Humor

Here are just a few of the entertaining moments my six-year old niece provided during my recent trip home for Thanksgiving.


Who IS This FREAK?

After the five-hour drive home, I reclined on the couch for a little rest. Hannah Grace walked over and stood beside me. I wiggled my ears at her. She walked away and whispered something to my sister (her mom), who laughed out loud.

“What did she just say?”

“Mom, Aunt Jennifer is freaking me out.”

Right. Next time I’ll cover up my third eye before going home.



Our Lip Gloss Be Poppin’

I applied lip gloss in the car one night, then put some on Hannah’s lips. She smiled, then leaned over and whispered in my ear.

“Let’s not tell anyone we have lip gloss on, okay? It will be our secret.”

“Okay.”

She leaned over again.

“Just act normal.”

Got it! I won’t act like I have lip gloss on. ??

Muffin Psychology

My thirteen-year old niece is in town with me for a few days. She is an infamous picky eater, so I thought it would be a bad idea to let her know that the muffins I was making Saturday morning were low-fat cranberry and orange. I mean, I might as well have told her they were made with bird poo. I hid the box after dumping the ingredients and as soon as I had folded the cranberries into the mix, she walked over beside me.

“Yum, strawberry muffins! Strawberry is my favorite.”

“Good.” No lie on my part. I think it’s good that strawberry is her favorite.

I watched as she started to eat the muffin.

“Do you like it?”

“Yeah.”

I noticed a collection of cranberries on her plate.

“Did you pick those out?”

“Yeah, they taste funny.”

“It’s because they’re cranberries…”
*a look of surprise on her face
“… and, they’re low-fat muffins.”
*now a look of disgust

Like I said, bird poo.

Diet Diary - Entry #6

Dear Diet Diary.
I decided today that I will start counting Weight Watcher points. I start off each day with a set number of points. Every food has a point value, so it's like shopping for what I can afford to eat with my points. So, I have to write stuff down, keep track of how many points I'm spending, etc. I mean, I hate shopping and balancing my checkbook but for some reason I thought this would be a good idea. Go figure.

Exercise earns me extra points. Like, if I exercise at a high intensity level for two hours, I can eat half a piece of cake- right after I regain consciousness.

I didn't join the WW club. That costs money. Why would I want to pay someone to tell me what I can't eat and then watch me step on a scale each week? Why don't I just run down the street naked, throwing wads of cash up in the air? Of course the running would earn me extra points. Something to think about.

"Gotta go"

I think I must have a bladder the size of a hummingbird. If only I could say that about my thighs! I’m amazed when friends tell me they only go to the bathroom two or three times a day (why I have these conversations with people, I don’t really know). Seriously? Two or three times A DAY? I’m worried these people may be considerably dehydrated. I go that many times an hour. (Is this one of those TMI moments? … Too Much Information?)

There are benefits to frequent restroom use. Like, I can tell you the places in town that have the nicest and nastiest bathrooms. Maggianos… they have a really nice bathroom. If it weren’t for hygiene issues, I’d be fine having my meal served in there. The Las Palmas on Hayes Street… I could skip all together. This is a single bathroom that always has some lingering smell. Plus, it’s right next to the kitchen. There is something very wrong about that. Ironic I’d say, since I just said I’d take my Maggiano’s meal in their bathroom. I digress.

Remember that commercial, “gotta go, gotta go, gotta go right now,” as the woman dances around trying not to pee her pants? I empathize. I think she has a hyperactive bladder though. At least “their” solution is some kind of drug. Or maybe it’s for adult diapers. Either way, I don’t need either. I just drink a lot. Like that whole up/down deal, what goes in, must come out.

I guess it’s really not that big of an inconvenience… well, unless I’m on a road trip, or in a movie, or a meeting, or horseback riding, or too broke to afford the extra toilet paper. But, other than those times…

Supposedly it gets worse as you get older… or pregnant… or obese- all viable options for me at this point. I could stop drinking so much, but then my hair would dry out, my nails would be brittle, and my skin would get wrinkled. Plus, I’d be thirsty. Going to the bathroom frequently ain’t all that bad. Bottoms up!

Four Fingers Pointing Back at Me

Perfect people must be lonely. How else would they live in such disillusion? Surely if they were in relationship with others, they would be waist deep in the mire of reality… acutely aware of every single flaw of their own personality. It is after all, relationships that reveal how very imperfect we are.

How would I realize what a self-righteous driver I am without the jerk who pulls up on a yellow light to block the intersection so that no one can turn? Or, how prideful I can be without the condescending tone of someone who presumptuously assumes that I’m an idiot? And, how on earth would I know how incredibly judgmental I can be without my boyfriend’s habits to cause me to roll my eyes and sigh in that exasperated ‘seriously?’ kind of way?

I don’t think that Jon and I could be better suited for one another, but we certainly have our differences. Admittedly, I have some OCD tendencies. As soon as I turn off the alarm in the morning, I start making my bed. Once I notice dirt on the carpet in my room, I just can’t proceed with life until it’s vacuumed. That would be crazy. And clutter in my room might as well be a sharp pencil jabbed in my eyeball. So, you can imagine it’s hard for me to relax at his house when we have to clear a place to sit on the couch among the papers, books, and random clutter. Maybe that’s why I usually end up looking for alcohol at his house? Hmmm.

Right after I met Jon last August, someone stole the spare tire off the back of his CRV. Every few days after that, he would mention that he had to call the Honda place to check on a replacement. Those days turned into weeks, into months, and a year and three months later… well let’s just say if he gets a flat, he’s up a creek without the proverbial paddle. The thing is, actions like that cause me to form an opinion. I point a finger and label him (and others) as unreliable, undisciplined, and unable to get things done. The judgment sears out of my eyeballs like a light saber. Rolling them sometimes helps.

And then I have to laugh…at myself. It’s the irony. The irony that I am just as flawed and imperfect as those I judge. Or, hypocritical if you will.

I bought a new car last January. Something was wrong with one of the tires when I test drove it, so they replaced it with a brand new one a few days later. After a week or two, I realized that the new tire had a very slow leak, probably due to a bad stem. I aired it back up until I would have a chance to take it back to the dealership. That was ten months ago. It’s really not that big of an inconvenience. I just have to remember to check the air in it every week or so. I’d take it back to get it fixed, but I can’t find the Mazda dealership for the plank in my eye.

Bombing by Spinach

As Jon was opening a bag of spinach leaves last night, the bag tore suddenly. That’s my description. Or, one could exaggerate and say the bag “exploded.” That’s his description.

“Ugh,” he said, wiping something off his face.

“What? What is it?”

“Spinach shrapnel.”

Guys.

Did I miss a career opportunity?

My sister called this morning to share a conversation she had with my six-year old niece while they were driving in the car. There was no lead in to the conversation, Hannah Grace just asked out of the blue,

"Mom, did Jennifer used to be in the circus?"

"What?" my sister replied.

"Did Jennifer used to be in the circus?"

"Hannah, why on earth would you ask me that?"

"Cause she can wiggle her ears without touching them."

That's right folks, I have mad skills!!