Another Reason Why I’m Not Like Martha Stewart

In Martha’s world, sh*t don’t happen

In Sunday’s Parade Magazine, Alina F., from Philadelphia asks, “Does Martha Stewart ever order takeout?”

The answer is, “Oh I never do!”

This is another reason I’m not like Martha.  Just last Friday, I had takeout twice.  I picked up breakfast sandwiches at Panera Bread before work and after work I swung by the Filipino bakery for  large containers of Pancit and Lumpia  for dinner.   This isn’t normal behavior for me, but Ms. Stewart, sh*t happens!  Sometimes you have to get takeout!

Maybe sh*t doesn’t happen to Martha?  There’s the bad sh*t like when the doctor’s appointment takes an hour longer than expected,  Husband has to work late, it is 7:30 PM and you’re tired and you don’t even have cereal or eggs in the house, only chicken breasts and potatoes and Great Scott you don’t have time for that mess!  Then there is the good sh*t like celebrating working with an awesome librarian and making it through a week of state mandatory testing, which was the reason for Friday’s breakfast.  Or celebrating the visit of one of our favorite people, Daughter’s Boyfriend, by treating him to a cuisine he had never tried before, which was the reason for Friday’s dinner.

I guess if I was like Martha, I would be prepared for unexpected late dinners.  For those meals when I want to show my love, I would weave my own napkins, fire my own plates and then prepare homemade breakfast sandwiches and Filipino food.  I’m sure Martha knows, but I must be honest and confess, I’m not sure if bagels grow on bushes, like blueberries, or trees, like croissants.  Are they are even in season?  As for egg rolls, do you need a special chicken?

Does sh*t happen in your world?  And when it does, do you get takeout?

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Three Day Weekend Blessings

In the United States we are celebrating Memorial Day today, a day we set aside to remember our fallen soldiers.  We enjoy a three-day weekend (well, most of us do), and the weather here on the East Coast has been glorious.  I have high hopes for today since the first two days of the weekend have been less than inspiring.

Saturday:

  • BJ’s Warehouse Club
  • Kroger for the stuff we forgot at BJ’s
  • Food Lion for the stuff we forgot at Kroger
  • Farm Fresh for the stuff we forgot at Food Lion
  • Cook some of the food we bought
  • Clean up the kitchen
  • Watch movie, go to bed

Sunday,

  • Read the paper with horror (how did the world get so bad?)
  • Clean house with horror (when did my housekeeping get so bad?)
  • Set out for the beach, take detours to avoid the stupid festival we forgot would be tying up traffic (we had no idea the traffic would be so bad!)
  • Within a few miles of the beach an electronic sign flashes that the beach parking lot is closed.    Closed!  We return home, stopping at every traffic light (the traffic was really, really bad)
  • Watch 30 Rock on Netflix, go to bed

Today, on Memorial Day, I will remember those I know who volunteered for service to their country and now rest beneath the ground.  The traffic,  an unsuccessful beach visit, a dirty house, and the annoyance of grocery shopping seem to be small things to fuss over.  All in all,  my weekend has been pretty nice and today is just the icing on the cake —  I  have a day off work to spend with my family, we are safe, healthy and have plenty to eat thanks to all those trips to the store, and once again the weather is delightful.

To my American friends, have a safe and happy holiday!

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Gimme A Call

If you dropped your cell phone into a fountain at the mall and discovered you couldn’t make any calls with it except to your 14 year-old self, what would you do?  You would call yourself, of course you would!

I think if I received a call from myself, I would instantly go insane.  I think if I thought I could call myself this would be a sign I was already insane.  But, in books, an event like this is not a call for alarm.

Publisher: Random House Children’s Books

This calling your younger self on a cell phone dropped in water is the plot device used by Sarah Mlynowski in her  book titled Gimme a Call.   The older protagonist  (didn’t she know to submerge her wet phone in a bowl of uncooked rice?), high school senior Devi, hounds her freshman self to death telling her who not to date, what clubs to join, what situations to correct, volunteer opportunities to grab, and to study, study, study until poor Freshman Devi just about has a nervous breakdown.   “Gimme a call” indeed!

If I was 13 and reading this book I wouldn’t know the author was breaking all the rules of time travel, hence, I would not be  interrupting the family’s TV time by saying, “This is just crazy!” every couple of pages.  I would probably think this book is a lot of fun and I would also be learning lessons such as prepare for college early, take care of your friendships and don’t make a boy your whole world.

PS if I see one more Young Adult Fiction cover of feet I think I’ll scream.

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Have You Read The One With The Yellow Cover?

Don’t expect too much from me this week.  For three days I felt as if my head was the dice cup for a cosmic game of Monopoly.  Rattle, rattle, rattle! Smack (cup slammed down onto table)!   Rattle, rattle, rattle! Smack!

I didn’t shirk my duties even though my brain was so scrambled I couldn’t complete my sentences.  I had promised to take Daughter clothes shopping for her new job and she tenderly guided the credit card in my hand through the machine.  It’s comforting to know I have family on which to rely.

I thought, since I’m mentally not my best today, this would be a good time to write a post about self-help books I adored and recommend often to my friends.  Unfortunately, their titles are lost to the mists of memory, even before this weekend and the mother of all headaches, but don’t let that keep you from reading them!

1.  The book about being happy.  It had a gold cover and was written by a woman with blonde hair.  Wow!  Was it good! It was page after page of common sense advice that actually worked.  I talked about it so much at work, a friend also read it.  She loved it too!  She also can’t remember the book’s title!  But we loved it!

2.  The book about being nice.  I’m pretty sure it had a blue cover.  The author of this book is in the hair salon business.  It was a book almost silly in its simplicity and yet, I learned valuable lessons about being nice.  I’ve mentioned this book to  dozens of people whenever the topic about being nice comes up.  I tell them, “You have to read this book about being nice written by a hair dresser.  I think it’s blue.”

3.  The book that could save your life.  It is red, and it might have the word ‘stop’ in it.  Written by a man in the personal protection industry, the first 7 chapters or so outline terrible crimes that happened to average people like you or me.  The chapters that follow  are the author’s insights into a criminal mind and how we can protect ourselves by being aware of our surroundings and tuning into clues our brain is receiving.  The book was fascinating and empowering and it could save your life!  I suggest you go to the bookstore today and ask for the red book that might have the word ‘stop’ in it.

As my brain rests from its three-day stint as a dice cup,  I will be happy to read a book from your own list of books you loved but apparently not enough to remember their titles.  Or am I the only one to do this?

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A Study That I Used To Know

The other morning before work, I sat in front of the TV eating my oatmeal and watching the local government channel.  They were airing a lesson on fractions.

What the hell?  You turn what upside down?  What is this thing called ‘simplify’?

It was fascinating.  I swear,  I have never seen this information before.

I so relate to this College Humor video:

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Scruffy Father Of Six = Chanel No. 5

Brad Pitt is now the new face of Chanel No. 5.  I’m not sure where they are going with this.  Do you?

It makes as much sense to me as

Dick Cheney the new face of Happy by Clinique

or

Charlie Sheen the new face of J’ Adore by Dior

You’ve seen the photos of Pitt running around Paris wearing string in his beard and a watch cap on his head!   Does this inspire you to run out and purchase a $85 thimble sized bottle of Chanel No. 5?

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Here Come The Judge

I am woman, hear me judge

Friday evening, during the middle school production of The King and I, a baby started crying with that weird foghorn/alien ‘Waaaaahrrrrrrrrrggggggggg’ babies around the planet have adopted when they want to instantly irritate an entire auditorium or restaurant and at the same time move their mother two giant steps closer to a breakdown.  I say ‘mother’ because of course it is always the mother who suffers.   She is the one on the receiving end of hissed shushes and glares  and she is the one who is forced to take the uncooperative baby out of the cafetorium thereby missing her older child’s debut on the stage.  The dad sits there one eye on the performance, the other eye on the baseball game on his iPhone.  Life is good.

Time, Inc Photograph Martin Schoeller

The ironic thing about the scenario is as a mom, I felt sorry for her.  I’ve been there.  At the same time, I have to admit I was also one of the moms sitting in judgement as the caterwauling went on and on and on.  I wanted to scream,  “Stick a boob in it!”

This is a natural thought since boobs have been on everyone’s mind since the Time magazine cover of the 4 year-old standing on a stool latched onto his mother for a snack.

Coincidentally,  I had just finished the chapter in Bossypants where Tina Fey vents about Tit Nazis, those moms who brook no excuses for not feeding a baby via the breast.  As long as I’m admitting to things, I might as well admit I’m a bit of a Tit Nazi.

Until I saw this photo and then I was an Anti-tit Nazi.  I became quite Churchillian in my denunciation of the boob.

Whatever!  We women always seem to fall into the trap of judging other women even when we try our hardest not to.   (Even when we realize this cover photo is blatantly trying to sell magazines by using an attractive, thin woman and not an ugly hag to push a story that really, no one cares about.)  Why do we do this?

I didn’t hear one man at the performance the other night whisper, “What is wrong with that father?  Why doesn’t he take that baby outside!”  I didn’t hear a woman say this either.

I hope that poor mother with the Foghorn/Alien voiced baby was treated to a day of pampering yesterday on Mother’s Day.  She deserved it, as do we all who try our best, yet still are judged.

Happy Belated Mother’s Day!

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