Check these bad boys out.
Now stop laughing and think about it.
They’re ingenious!
I’m at a point in my life where I may as well have newborns again.
Ziggy…my 14 year old mutt, has to “go” twice a night.
That means I have to get “up” twice a night!
Turning the light on is not an option.
That might actually wake me from my Ambien stupor.
Navigating the stairs in the dark is dangerous enough.
Hitting the cold tile floors downstairs… that’s downright cruel.
Once the deed is done, I travel back upstairs literally shuffling my feet as to not trip over something and risk imminent death.
A few sample journeys:
Tucker (rhymes with…) has undoubtedly moved positions on the floor while I’ve been gone, causing me to fly over him only to bash my knee cap into the bed post and stub my toe.
Nick has left his Human Torch action figure on the floor for me to step on and pierce my bare foot.
An extra blanket has been tossed to the floor and as I shuffle, I wrap my feet around it like spaghetti on a fork causing me to immediately hit the ground.
Add to the above scenarios the fact that with each demoralizing hit I take…I have to muffle a profanity. That alone can be a leading cause of stroke.
Our homes can be a dangerous place at night.
Be pro-active.
Buy a loved one on your Christmas list a pair of Headlight Slippers.
And help them make it though the night.
Alive!
Typically, I love the Christmas season.
The oversized tree in the picture window,
Bursting with keepsake ornaments and taffeta ribbon.
Garland, delicately laced with twinkle lights woven between the balusters.
Hundreds of colored lights strung outdoors for all to see.
And a smaller Christmas tree, all decked out on the front porch.
I also get over it pretty quick.
Usually before the big day even gets here.
We decorate and celebrate ourselves into a frenzy.
We single handedly try to spur on the economy.
We become walking, talking fruitcakes.
‘Tis the Season.
Well not this year.
Nope…I refuse to get caught up in it all.
Our tree this year; a puny pre-lit artificial.
I bought 3 sets of Christmas balls at $1.99 each.
(The keepsakes will sleep for another year.)
My nephew Anthony made a Star for the top.
It is done, it looks ridiculous.
But come the day after Christmas…
It will be in the trash.
Balls and all.
Ba-hum-bug!
Tucker, our 130 lb dog, has his own Thanksgiving tradition.
He eats all the pie.
Not just any pie…
He eats Costco pies.
12 inch Monstrosities.
They must easily weigh 5lbs… each!!!
This year, Tucker chose to eat the Caramel Apple and the Pecan.
That’s actually good news.
Last year, after he consumed an entire 12 inch Pumpkin Pie,
He crapped neon orange for a week.
Apparently, Tucker was not satisfied with just desert pie this year.
On Saturday, he ate an entire Pizza Pie as well.
It was actually 2 leftover halves.
Pepperoni and Mushroom on one half,
A Marguerite pie, consisting of mozzarella, Basil and Roma tomatoes all on top of an olive oil glaze on the other.
A connoisseur my dog…only the best for him.
Tucker’s on a diet this week.
After all…Christmas Eve is only 4 weeks away.
While the rest of us are all nestled snug in our beds,
Visions of Sugar-plums are dancing in that fat ass’s head.
It’s been said that I’ve got 9 lives.
It’s also clear I’ve probably used 7 of them up.
But Ohhhhh, the memories.
Thinkin’ I could never live without you by my side.
One in particular, I was reminded of last night.
My friend Marti sent me a “TG Greeting Card”.
When I clicked on the link (and please do here),
I was back in Chicago…January, 1998.
But then I spent so many nights
Thinkin’ how you did me wrong…
Gloria Gaynor was the headliner at the annual Convention.
“I Will Survive”, every woman’s anthem, scorned or not, was about to be sung live!
I HAD to get up on that stage.
And I grew strong.
I learned how to get along.
Along for the ride, was Tina.
We’d just met.
She could not believe I wanted “us” to get up on that stage and sing “WITH” Gloria Gaynor.
But we did it.
Go on now go.
Walk out the door.
At first Gloria relegated us to backup singers.
By the chorus though…I was front and center.
Her eyes were so big.
They were telling me to get back where I belong…
With Tina and the Doo-whop boys.
Just turn around now,
(‘Cause) you’re not welcome anymore.
It was a shining, powerful moment.
One that still puts a huge smile on my face.
I don’t know where Gloria Gaynor is today.
But for Tina and I…
That night was the start of a long and adventurous friendship.
We will Survive.
Hey, hey.
We were driving to Costco today, (Mike, Nick and I), to secure our Thanksgiving dinner.
Jordie wasn’t with us (again).
She’s 12 now and has much better things to do with her day.
Nick’s still easy.
He doesn’t even ask where we’re going until we’re half way there.
“Costco” I told him when he asked.
“Oh thank the Lord” he said.
“I thought we were going to the "Material" store again.
When you take me there Mom…It’s like you lost your love for me.”
I was immediately transformed back to my own childhood.
Being the youngest, Mom would take me to the fabric store while my sisters were in school.
I remember the pain; my legs could hardly hold me up.
I’d be leaning on a bolt of 100% Cotton flannel (she used to make our PJ's back then), just willing myself anywhere but there.
Later in life, the fabric store continued to haunt me.
When I was single and owned my first home,
I convinced my friend Suzie (Homemaker) to make my window treatments.
All I had to do was buy the fabric.
I’ll never forget the woman’s face when I ordered 6 yards of Muslims.
I don’t know when it happened…
But I love the fabric store now.
It offers so much opportunity.
It offers beauty and change.
Just last night I overheard Mike telling Nick that things he dislikes now as a kid,
He’ll very likely be fond of as an adult.
“Like kissing with tongues?” Nick asked.
Hmmm…that's probably more likely than the "Material" store.
Eastern Time; because Happy Hour comes one hour earlier.
Winter; because spring must follow.
A little extra weight; because maybe that means I’m healthy.
My friend Dini’s good health; because it could have been not so good.
Costco; because if they don’t have it, I don’t need it.
Mikey; because he still makes me laugh.
The Food Network; because they give me hope.
Jordan and Nick; because of every reason you can imagine.
TiVo; no explanation needed.
Good wine; cuz cheap wine sucks.
And you.
No wonder we’re mocked and ridiculed by foreigners.
We started a War under false pretense.
We have Pat Robertson on the radio.
Intelligent Design will now be taught in Kansas science classes.
And drum roll please…
It’s time for American’s to spruce up for the Holidays!
A Snowman, the size of a small house.
Santa Claus…blowing in the wind.
Rudolph and his blinking red nose.
And brand new this year…the 6ft Snow Globe.
Oh Joy!
When did we get so tacky?
The only thing worse than these inflated monstrosities are when they are in their deflated state.
They are just a puddle of brightly colored nylon on a backdrop of dead grass.
Pathetic.
I say…Bring on the lights.
Hang a wreath.
Put your spare change in the Kettle.
Sing carols.
But for God’s sake…and Santa’s too…
Just say “no no no” to an inflatable Christmas.
I’ve lived in Kansas since 1971.
I know tornados.
I’ve spent many a night in a dark, musty basement with my Dad and two sisters.
Mom would never come down if it was in the middle of the night.
“When it’s your time, it’s your time” she’d tell us unwilling to leave her warm, cozy bed.
But never have I been un-nerved like the past 2 weeks here in Indy.
Shit is flying all over the place.
These storms are fierce.
If this keeps up…it really will be India-NO-place!
But the scariest part of all?
“I’m” in charge!
Me…the one who sleeps with Prince Valium.
No Ambien…no sleep.
So being the responsible parent that I am…
I’ve gone two nights without sleep.
With Mike still down in Kentucky (enduring his own tornadic hell)
I must be the one to listen for sirens in the night.
And pray they don’t sound.
Why?
Because I’m tired.
I’m cranky.
And finally…I have officially become my Mother.
I’ll be taking my Ambien tonight…
"When it’s your time…it’s your time."
Good night Toto.
I blew it.
I should have gone to Testostorama.
I chose Martini’s instead…Damnit!
I have one lousy friend here in Indy...Josie.
(She’s not lousy; far from it…she’s a hoot. The fact I have “one” friend is lousy!)
Josie, among other things, owns a bike shop with her family.
They had a booth set up at Testostorama and Josie worked it last night.
She wasn’t thrilled about it, but she knew she’d probably see some shit that defies logic…
at least ours.
Boy Howdy!
Just as I was salivating over the first sip of my “Bonefish Martini”, my cell rang.
It was Josie.
Her booth it turns out was right next to the “Midget Wrestling Arena”.
We roared…it just couldn’t get any better than that.
And then it did.
Josie called back to tell me about the “Pre-Wrestling” foreplay going on.
Apparently…strippers in G-Strings Strutting-for-Dollars have nothing on the Mini’s.
Midgets were encouraging Testostorama patrons to staple dollar bills to their anatomy giving new meaning to “The Buck Stops Here”.
I have the pictures as proof…but even this blog has “some” standards!
Josie also got to watch with amusement as an over-served woman climbed fully clothed into a vendor’s Hot Tub.
That alone would have been worth the price of admission.
No one told me they were selling beer there!
Everything I said in my last Musing about Indy (the city) was true.
But what I realize now is this:
Here…Culture is a destination.
You’ve got to want it, seek it out.
But Redneck…that’s a way of life.
Admittedly, I haven’t had too much good to say about my new digs.
I will however, go on record right now and say…
“Indianapolis is a great city”.
Mike and I take the kids downtown every chance we get.
It’s hip, it’s clean, it has a great vibe.
First class restaurants, Big League sports,
Peyton Manning and an undefeated football team.
Yay for Indy.
The city offers culture.
It has an awesome zoo, the best Children’s Museum in the Country.
The Eiteljorg Museum is second to none for American Indian Exhibits and Western Art.
It has the Symphony, the Opera, Comedy clubs, Blues and Jazz.
The city rocks.
So…just when I’m warming up to my new home,
“Testostorama” comes to town: Men’s Expo 2005.
Y-chromosomes will rule the city.
Think “Redneck”!
Jessica Canseco (October issue of Playboy) will be struttin her stuff.
Billiards player Jeanette “The Black Widow” Lee will sign autographs.
There will be Midget Wrestling featuring Verne “Mini-Me” Troyer.
And tons of booths selling loud things that go fast and talking animal heads to hang on your wall.
I seriously considered coughing up the 8 bucks entrance fee.
It would certainly have supplied me with “Musing” material for months.
In the end though, Mike and I took the money to McCormick & Schmicks.
We spent it on Martini’s.
Rednecks are amusing,
But Top Shelf booze in a sophisticated setting…
Priceless.
My friend Dini is going to have a rough day today.
So will her husband Brent.
Dini is having an incredibly invasive surgery,
Brent will spend 10 grueling hours waiting for her.
My day looks to be pretty non-eventful.
Work the bookfair for a few hours at Jordan’s school,
Make an appearance at “Grandparents Night” at Nick’s.
Pretty ordinary stuff.
Brent and Dini’s will be anything but.
So if you’re reading this today,
Please take a moment and say a prayer for my friend.
And to honor her… be happy and grateful and kind.
That’s what Dini is.
Happy…you should hear her belly-laugh.
Grateful…for her family and friends.
And kind…to everyone she meets.
Today…I will try to be all those things.
For Dini, and for myself.
She would like that.
Jordie broke her arm…again.
This makes the fourth time in five years.
Klutz!
This break, like the second one, she blames on her brother.
Nick just can’t catch a break…har, har, har!
My saving grace is that Jordan has had the common decency to spread the four breaks out over three States. This I believe… keeps me one step ahead of Social Services.
If however, any of you get a call on my behalf…
You don’t know me,
You haven’t seen me.
Now go on…
Break a leg!
Nicky’s in the 4th grade play tonight,
He’s a wolf.
Nick “said” that the teacher “said”… they don’t need costumes.
“But you can if you want.”
This causes me, (Sybil), quite a dilemma.
The “old” me would have been thrilled to make the snap decision; No costume.
The “new” me, would get out the sewing machine.
So I’m in the drug store last week and I spy with my little eye, a wolf mask!
It was one of those little kid masks that have the elastic string on the back of it.
It was very realistic though...I could hardly “mask” my excitement.
Until I got home that is.
The kids were appalled that I apparently don’t know the difference between a wolf and a fox.
A fox is red with a petite little nose.
A wolf is…well…not.
Now I’m back to the “old” me; No costume.
Ingrates!
And I stood by that decision until this morning.
Dropping Nick off at school today for their last rehearsal (no where did it say “Dress Rehearsal”),
I couldn’t help but notice the “Award Winning” costumes piling out of cars in the parking lot.
“Holy Crap Nick…I thought you didn’t HAVE to have a costume!!!”
The rest of the day is a blur.
Target, Michael’s, Hobby Lobby.
The chances of finding anything to do with a wolf 10 days after Halloween are slim to none.
We’re screwed.
My “Martha Steward Moment”…
Grey paint.
I painted over the red fox mask, he’s now grey.
His nose is still petite; I’m seriously contemplating a Dixie cup for more of a wolf-like nose but fear scarring the kid for life.
A grey sweat suit completes the ensemble.
Curtain Call please…
This big, bad wolf is ready to huff and puff and blow the house down!
Golden Fleece and Garden Gate:
Yellow and green.
Cha Ching Cherry, Chapel of Love, La Paz-itively Hot:
All varying colors of pink.
From Russia with Love, Honey I’m Home, Half Baked:
All yummy.
Translation:
I painted two rooms this week using Sherwin Williams paint.
I got a manicure and chose OPI’s “Cha Ching Cherry” for its luscious pink color.
And I celebrated exciting news with a Ben & Jerry’s single dip.
“From Russia with Love” is a caffeinated cross of Coffee Ice Cream, Coffee Liqueur and Espresso fudge chips. YUM!
Wouldn’t that be the greatest job in the world?
Creatively naming paint, nail polish and Ice Cream?
Who does this and where do I sign up?
I’d even do it for free.
Call me!
Sunday evening through late Thursday night,
Mikey lives in Kentucky.
The plan is for him to be home for good come January.
The kids and I tease him and inquire about his “other” family down there.
He always responds the same way,
“Honey…down there teethe are considered Bling,
You have nothing to worry about.”
And we all laugh.
But I do worry.
About hazardous roads and crummy weather,
Too few cell towers and long distances between exits.
Car trouble in Hooterville and who will stop to help him.
I worry…until he finally calls me late at night and says,
"Chrissy, I’m in room 212… again.”
And we laugh.
Tonight is Sunday.
Sunday’s Suck.
Warning:
This Musing is not for the faint of heart.
I was reading one of my favorite columnists in the whole wide world yesterday.
Joe Posnanski is an award winning sports columnist for the Kansas City Star and he also writes an occasional Human Interest story for his “Cup of Joe” column.
Joe recently wrote on the wonders of Google, the search engine.
He was charming and witty as usual, and shared this with his audience: However they work, Google’s Web searches are remarkable. Type in a phrase, any phrase, hit that “I’m Feeling Lucky” button and within .25 seconds, you will be sent spiraling through Al Gore’s Internet to the exact Web page you need. Type in “Hate Reality TV” and you will go to a message board of people who hate reality TV shows. If you type in “Can’t Set VCR,” voila, you are transported to a Cable Television Set Up Guide.So I decided to give it a shot. I typed in my brand new Blog name, ChrissyCan Cant. I’m Feeling Lucky!
Holy Shit…I don’t ever want to be “that” lucky. There are NO words… If you are void of children at the moment, are NOT at your place of employment, and are not easily offended…Google me. Otherwise, suffice it to say, I may have to re-think my Blog name. Sorry Bear!
Friday mornings around here are stressful.
It’s “Spelling Test” day for Nick.
And for me.
Warriors. W-A-R-R-(I-O- myself an “A”) R-S Warriors.
Moccasin. M-O-C-C-A-S-I-N (It would be a SIN to not get an “A”) Moccasin.
Miami. M-(I-AM going to get an “A”)-I Miami.
The last spelling word on the list was “Headache”.
'Nuff said!
Indiana is beautiful this time of year.
The trees are bursting with bright, vibrant colors.Ornamental grasses are dancing in the breeze.
A frosty dew greets us each morning.
There is a pond in the back of our house.
When we wake, there is an eerie steam wafting from its surface.
The geese and the ducks are chatting amongst themselves,
And a lone Egret stands guard on his long skinny legs.
Winter is upon us, it’s clear.
It’s time to stack the firewood, and page through old cookbooks in search of hearty stews and soups.
It’s time… for the Bailey’s!
So as I observe the creatures around me,
Cramming so much life into the last days of fall…
I sit in the Papa Bear chair sipping a hot mug of coffee and Bailey’s,
Calm has come over me, I can let go.
I am ready now, for winter.
Bring it on!
The saga continues. This in today’s Op-Ed column in the Indy Star:Current time zone fury is much ado about nothing
Indiana’s time zone status can’t be any more confusing than it is now, (Thank you Ms. Neal) so it’s hard to understand the frenzy being whipped up over the latest U.S. Department of Transportation proposal.
The state’s move to daylight-savings time next year (Huh???) has prompted a review of time zone boundaries with more than a dozen counties asking the federal government to transfer them into the Central zone.
So if I’m following this correctly, and believe me, I’d rather work an algebra problem than this, next year I “am” going to Spring Forward and Fall Back.
Does this mean India-No-Place will no longer be standing still? The only good thing I could think of to come from actually standing still was that when the world comes to its ugly end, Indiana will get another 20 years until they catch up. Now they’ve even screwed that up.
I received an Email today.
Right out of the blue.
Left field.
Precision timing.
It was from someone who I’ve only met once in my life.
But someone I had a deep, instant connection with.
Apparently, it was mutual.
My new friend cut right to the chase.
I like that in my friends.
No pussy-footin around here!
She told me I was Fabulous.
And that I am capable of great things.
I am successful and open, kind to my friends.
Why is she telling me these things, I openly wondered?
And suddenly I understood.
She sees it in me.
I, like some of you, don’t always see it in myself.
And if I don’t see it, how can I act it?
And if I don’t act it…how can I be it?
And if I can’t be it…how can my daughter?
My friend picked me up today,
From a low place.
I think the best way for me to thank her,
would be to follow her lead.
You, my friends, are fabulous.
You are each capable of greatness.
You are kind and you are successful.
Each in your own unique way.
Believe in yourself.
And tell your friends you believe in them too.
It may be just what they need,
To rise from their own low place.
Thank you for believing in me my friend,
And for reminding me who I am.
