Saturday, March 3, 2018
On Monday morning, I got into my car to go to work after it had been in the garage all weekend and I was almost knocked out by a pungent odor that oozed out like the green funk that followed Beetlejuice around. Immediately, I blamed my husband and/or daughter because I kept my car so tidy and never left anything inside overnight, let alone over the weekend. Anthony did take my car last weekend, maybe he left food in the backseat or something? (He once left an In-N-Out bag under my seat, which I found while on my way to Stagecoach). I checked all around…nothing! Maybe Meyer dropped something in the car seat that stinks? She can be messy, especially if you give her a baggie of popcorn on the ride home from Oceanside and it ends up all over the floor instead of in her mouth. I checked the car seat…nothing. Very strange. I rolled down both windows and headed to work figuring that I would buy an air freshener at CVS that afternoon and it would solve my problem…Well, an incredibly strong Yankee Candle air freshener later and my car still smells like someone left a dirty diaper in a wet cooler all day in the hot sun. What the hell was that? I checked the trunk to make sure that my pregnancy brain didn’t leave a bag of groceries in there. Negative. Then, I got my flashlight out and checked to make sure I didn’t drop any food down the side of my seat while I was driving. I admit, my pregnancy appetite is in full effect and I am constantly snacking, especially during my hour long commute home. Maybe I dropped an orange slice down there? Didn’t I eat some asparagus on the ride home the other day? Weird, I know…damn pregnancy! But from what I could see, there was nothing in the crack. Did I have a dead animal under my hood? Nope. What the hell was it and why was it not going away? Thanks to my new air freshener, my car now smells like a heavily-cologned Italian man who has been playing in a dumpster for hours. There was nothing I could do for the time being, so every night, I left my windows down to air it out, which is helping a little but I still couldn’t find the cause of the stench! I even checked under my spare tire to make sure the AAA guy didn’t leave his bologna sandwich under there when he changed my tire a few weeks ago...Well, it has been a week and the lingering odor has finally gone away. (Thankfully because I had to valet park my car at Pizzeria Mozza the other night). So, that orange slice/asparagus/dead animal/bologna sandwich must have finally disintegrated...Eww!
Thursday, December 14, 2017
I have been looking for a hall tree/bench for our entryway for what seems like forever now and finally, I found the perfect one! I bought an inexpensive piece on Wayfair that seemed to have great reviews and would look perfect in our entryway. I am always very good at building furniture like this, so when it arrived, I tore open the box and got to work. I just put together two night stands earlier this week and my husband was upstairs assembling a TV stand, so I had this one in the bag. I laid out all of the parts in order, opened the box of screws (careful not to mix them up) and began to read the manual. Easy peasy lemon squeezy. It was coming together nicely and I was almost finished when I called Anthony to help me lift up the bench part and screw it onto the top of the piece. That is when I saw it. When I flipped up the front of the bench (it had been laying face down while I screwed in the 4 screws that held it together), I realized that I had used the wrong screws. I was screwing the longer screws in and they broke through the front of the bench! I should have been using the screws that were half the size of the ones I used. I looked down and just slapped my hand against my forehead. Doh! I’m lucky I didn’t screw the piece into my hardwood floor! As Anthony came down the stairs he started laughing and asked me how I didn’t hear the screws ripping through the front of the bench. “I don’t know, I just didn’t!” What the hell was I going to do now? I looked on the front of the manual and they gave a number to call for replacement parts. But I clearly did it myself and it didn’t come damaged. What if they ask me for pictures or to send the part back first? Shit! I was the worst liar ever! There was no way I was going to convince them that it just came like that! I thought that maybe I could sand and paint it over, or maybe just put 4 stickers over the problem spots? Shaking, I dialed the number and sat there sweating, waiting for someone to answer. Please don’t ask me what happened, please don’t ask me…..When she picked up the phone, she simply asked what piece was damaged, confirmed my address and told me the part was on its way. Gulp. That was it? Ahhhhh deep breath out.
Wednesday, November 29, 2017
Earlier this week, I read that it was going to rain (which I was excited about) but so far, it was still dry outside. So at 5:30 AM this morning when I stepped out into the garage to get into my car for work, I was delighted when I heard what sounded like buckets of water coming down. “Nice, it’s finally raining out!” So, I went back inside the house, grabbed my rain jacket, rain boots and umbrella and got myself prepared for the storm outside. When I got back into the garage and pushed the garage door opener, something just wasn’t adding up as the door began to rise. The driveway wasn’t wet at all. (Door continues to open). I don’t see any raindrops coming down. (Door continues to open). Why do I still hear water? (Door now fully open exposing a beautiful morning and me standing head to toe in rain gear). I look over to the left and see that one of our sprinkler heads had busted and we literally have Old Faithful in our front yard. Dammit!
Friday, June 9, 2017
I am sure everyone has been in this situation before…you are at a restaurant or bar and you have to use the bathroom. You get to the bathroom doors and have no clue which one to walk in! Am I a ‘Skunk’ or a ‘Sloth?’ A ‘Clover’ or a ‘Flower?’ A ‘Gypsy’ or a ‘Pirate?’ Can’t these people just say ‘Men’ or ‘Women’ already!? By the time you figure it out, your bladder is about ready to explode and you are ready to bust through the door with the ‘Rooster’ on it, forgetting that you are most likely a ‘Cat.’ And if you have had a few drinks? Forget about it- the signs may have well be in French! This exact situation has happened to me a few times (am I just not as witty and clever as I think I am?) but this time it was a whole different story…
We were at the Temecula Creek Inn for our friend’s 40th birthday party. We had been wine tasting all day and when we got back to the hotel, we went to the bar to continue the festivities. I had a few martinis and then had to go to the bathroom. I asked Anthony where the bathroom was and he pointed behind the bar and told me the doors were to the left. I got up, walked exactly where he told me and came upon 2 doors next to each other. One said ‘Sage 1’ and one said ‘Sage 2.’ SHIT. Okay, this one was like a riddle- how the heck was I supposed to know what kind of Sage I am? Are they talking about the herb? Maybe these are gender neutral bathrooms and if you have to go number one you go to the ‘Sage 1’ door? Ugh. No, that wouldn’t be possible…..right? Not only did I have to pee badly, I was wearing a romper so the process of taking it off was going to take a while so there was no time to waste! Just as I was racking my brain for anagrams for the letters SAGE, I saw a few girls walk by me and head around the corner. I followed them and saw two clearly marked doors: 'Gentleman’ & ‘Ladies.’ Duh! I still have no clue what those 'Sage' doors lead to. Probably the electrical room or something….
Thursday, March 16, 2017
Before we got on the road, we had pulled over to the side of the parking lot to adjust the cables on the Tahoe. A baby blue minivan pulled up next to us and out stepped Mr. Claus himself, except this time he was in his regular clothes (but clearly recognizable). He asked if we needed any help and I thought, ‘what is this, Miracle on 34th Street?’ We told him thanks but we were just adjusting the cables on the tires, yet he stayed and decided to make small talk. He asked if we remembered him (like he was Clark Kent and just removed his glasses)…umm duh, we just sat on your lap! I looked over at his van and noticed that he had the familiar Uber sticker on his dashboard and thought, holy crap! Santa is an Uber driver too? What else does this guy do? Can you imagine if you called an Uber and on the app and it said 'Nick' will be arriving in 2 minutes in a red Toyota sleigh? He agreed with us that it sucked about having to put cables on the tires to make it up to Santa’s Village and confessed that he was almost late to work because he didn’t have any and had to go out of his way to buy some. To that I replied, “why didn’t you take the sleigh?”
Thanks. I’ll be here all night. Ho ho ho.
Tuesday, June 21, 2016
I am a mother. I get pooped on. A lot. I don't even flinch when it happens anymore. I just clean it up and move on. But poor Mister Bear...he didn't even see it coming! Either time....I guess it is my fault considering I keep Mister Bear on the changing table in clear view of Meyer's bare butt, so I apologize Mister Bear! The first time Mister Bear got pooped on was when Meyer was a tiny newborn and my mom and I were changing her right after I told her pediatrician that she hadn't had a poop yet since I brought her home. Well, I should have held my tongue because as soon as we got home and I took off the diaper, it was a poop storm! All over me, all over my mom, all over the floor and all over Mister Bear....into the wash he went...The second time though, Mister Bear had to uncomfortably sit covered in poop all day as my hubby failed to notice Meyer had even pooped on him. I was in bed that morning while Anthony was changing her when I heard a little baby shart followed by, 'Oh SHIT!' (No pun intended). I rolled over to see Anthony only slightly covered in poop and Meyer with a big smile on her face. He quickly cleaned her up and went off to work. It was only after I returned home from work that day and took Meyer upstairs to be changed when I noticed Mister Bear's pink hoodie now had brown polka dots all over it. Did he really not see those poop splatters this morning or did he choose not to see them? I'll never know....Nonetheless, I gave him a good soak and dry but he was not happy about it! Poor Mister Bear had to drown his sorrows in the sink and yet he returned right back on the changing table that night ...I'll never learn and Mister Bear will never catch a break!