Finally!

I bought rain boots last MAY and today is the first day I have been able to wear them.  Stupid Colorado.  Everybody in Colorado looks 10 years older than their peers residing in habitable locales with air.  Also, the Nordstrom stocks only half the shoes they do elsewhere.  Don't move here.  See, exception, Aspen. 

Mystery Bun

Do you know what kind of fine (overexposed) bun this is?  This, my friends, is a semmel bun.  When I went to high school in Austria I ate two of these every day for lunch.  No more.  No less.  This also might explain why I am only 5'1" despite having parents of normal height.  Not much nutrition in those buns there.  Yet if you asked me what I miss most about Vienna (besides the culture, the art, the architecture, and the gummi smurfs), I would tell you I miss the semmel buns.

No, I am not in Austria right now, but my husband was and he brought me back two semmel buns. You know, because they are the pinnacle of breaddom, I don't otherwise eat bread.  It's true.  If I can't have a semmel bun, I don't want bread. It's like that with lamb too.  If I can't have the lamb from Bob's Steakhouse in Dallas, I don't want lamb.

Say.  This is funny. When we were in Hawaii, all the fancy restaurants had lamb.  My husband and I have never once seen a lamb in Colorado.  Of course this could be because they are all on plates in Hawaii.  I'm just saying.  The fine people of Hawaii may want to do some due diligence with their meat distributors. 

Nespresso

I bought a Nespresso so I wouldn't have to go to Starbucks.   Now I just have a coffee for my way to Starbucks.

That being said, I love my Nespresso.  What a fantastic little machine. 

Also, my new favorite phrase is, "I smell like a chain smoking goat."  That little gem comes from Honey Boo Boo's father. 

And, finally, watching Pop Up Video.  Whenever I catch the video for What's Going On I am always surprized by what the ladies look like.  I don't know why.  It was the grunge era.  I always expected them to be . . . well, blonde.

It really sounds like I watch a lot of t.v., but I don't.  Between the job, keeping the books for The Franchise, and having an 11 year old, I only catch t.v. when I am brushing my teeth.

Working For The Weekend

Sigh.  On Wednesday we got a note from the franchise Mother Ship saying that mid-year financials were due that day.  Guess what I am doing this weekend.  A balance sheet.  Sure, in my past life I was a tax attorney, but we had accountants for any number crunching that was required.  This all sounds very, very painful.

Has anybody been watching Gallery Girls.  I am embarassed to say I've watched two episodes.  Goodness those are some terrible young women.  I hope they are not representative of most young women.  However, I've known a few from New York and I have reason to believe there is some truth there.  That being said, Big Rich Texas was in no way no how representative of Dallas. 

Back to Reality

Coming back to TWO full time jobs after 8 days in Hawaii is hard.  Especially when, after a week of zen, your flight home is a red eye.  Don't do it.  The red eye.  Do do Hawaii.  It was amazing.  I, the self-professed city girl, even appreciated nature in Hawaii. 

There was something about it that felt peaceful and safe.  Being there, I was finally able to let my mom go . . . that is, I finally let her rest in peace.  My counselor tells me this means that she will come back to me now.  And I do have to say, there has been a peace and a happiness and a lightness about me I haven't known for a long time. 

Life Is . . . Better

The doctor took me off tamoxifen. And I did a three mile run today.  IN MAUI.

Really? Again.

I friggin' hate tamoxifen.  And, yes, this is another post about how I hate tamoxifen.  The regular migraines.  The weight gain despite eating less.  The irritability. 

OH THE IRRITABILITY.  (On the other hand, it's not too much to ask that all the laundry - the socks, the underwear, the pants the swimsuits and the sweatshirts don't all go in the same drawer.  I think most people have a reasonable expectation, and expedite in practice, the theory that separate items of clothing belong in separate drawers.)

My poor family.  There is nothing NOTHING they can say to me right now that is going to be a reasonable statement, comment, or question.  Because my hair looks terrible and I am very tired.  Ten hours just doesn't cut it anymore.  Also I want to petition right now that synchronized diving is no longer an olympic sport.  If that can be an olympic sport then so can Zumba. 

And my poor son.  Never in his eleven years has he ever once been prepared for school or summer camp the night before.  But today, for the first time ever, I snapped at him about it.  (That being said, it's good to know he can be scared of me.  That could come in handy in a few years.)

Anyway,  my husband wants me to stop taking this drug.  I DON'T KNOW WHY HE CAN'T JUST BE FRIGGIN HAPPY THAT I AM DOING THIS SO HE HAS A BETTER CHANCE OF HAVING ME AROUND FOR LONGER. 

Party On

Y'all.  I'm hosting a big party.  The last time I hosted a party, jell-o shots played a predominate role in the menu, so you know its been awhile.  In my defense, they were white grape/champagne jell-o shots because I was throwing a classy party.

I am fairly confident, however, that the music will be the same. 

I wish I could tell you the theme but all my friends are so excited about the theme that they have been googling the theme and getting stuff to share at the party.  And we can't have them finding this blog, as herein we have discussed that at least one of them needs rehab.  And after much discussion with my counselor, it is not my place to intervene.  However, I can provide very small wine glasses.  Or, in reality, normal size wine glasses it's just at some point everybody I know started serving wine in water goblets so we could all say, "Oh I just had two glasses."  Two glasses that hold one bottle of wine.  Because if you actually look in the wine glass section at Crate and Barrel you wonder when they started selling glass thimbles.

Anyway, this was all just a big excuse to buy a pair of earrings and I couldn't justify the earrings unless I had a place to where them, and I wasn't going to come across that place unless I created it myself.  So, a pair of $35 earrings and here we are . . .

No Piggies

Can we say that if you are over the age of 60 you are not allowed to put your hair in pigtails.  In fact, can we say that if you are over the age of 5 you are not allowed to put your hair in pigtails.  Pretty much 60 is not close to 5 so there is really no room for interpretation here. 

If only I had my camera.  I promise that when I upgrade my phone on August 18th I will use said phone to record these things.  (Did I tell you my Nikon digital just died.  Just one day died.  May it rest in peace.  I liked my Cannon digital better anyway.  And my phone and the camera thereon is on its last legs, having nothing to do with the fact that for the past two years I have dropped it at least once daily because the ergonomics of carrying a chai and a cell phone in the same hand while opening a door are not great.)

I will also record my weekend trips.  You know I am not a Rocky Mountain person.

However.

I am madly in love with Steamboat Springs.  It is perfect.  There is a paved bike trail along the Yampa River, a waterfall hike, usually a hot air balloon taking off by the tennis center, and fairly decent Tex-Mex.  And do you know what I totally love about it - it is completely unpretentious.  This coming from me who never minded a little pretention (as in Dallas pretention, not I am cooler than you because I am outfitted for mountain climbing at a moments notice pretention).  Anyway, everybody is welcome and everybody is friendly in Steamboat Springs. (Except apparently for me who cannot abide by blonde old ladies wearing pigtails.  But come on.  That's just icky.  That's icky like the word panties or that scum that Robert Irvine is always finding in the places on Restaurant Impossible.)

Defies Belief

Last night I witnessed . . . AN ADULT LICKING HER PLATE.  Licking.  As in picked it up and licked it.  Today I have my review with my boss over lunch.  Could you imagine if I PICKED UP MY PLATE AND LICKED IT.  When my husband and I spend our anniversary at the Four Seasons in Lana'i, can you imagine if I PICKED UP MY PLATE AND LICKED IT.  Or just, say tonight at dinner, in front of my husband and my son . . . No.  No you cannot imagine.  Yet I saw something like it happen with my own eyes.  

Dear Nordstrom Personal Shopper

1.  Never say, "You're a lawyer, you can afford it." 
2.  Never say, "Sorry my breath smells like peanut butter."  Just carry mints.
3.  When I ask in advance to see three specific things, I would like, at some point during that appointment, for you to show me those three things.
4.   Fake your approval when I tell you I want Frye cowboy boots, not riding boots.  Asking me why in disgust is not appropriate, and then brining me riding boots anyway is just annoying.
5.   When the sales associate next to you tells me that you should pre-sale the items to me so I can get double Nordstrom points, you don't act put out and say, "You have enough points already."

I returned the items I got that day.  Nordstrom I expect better.  I am inclined to go back to the Mother Ship.  (Neimans)

Intervention

I have a friend who needs an intervention.  For more than one thing. 

Living large is fun, only then its not.  Then it is the same story every time.

But is it my role to say something?
Shouldn't her husband be stepping up?
At some point don't you have a responsibility to yourself and your children?

I Have Seen the Crystal Light

I thought I would take a moment to explain my hiatus.  I had a migraine that went off and on (mostly on) for the better part of two weeks.  I was so tired of being in pain that I began to take big steps to address anything that might be causing the pain.  I cut out coffee.  I know, right?  I was seriously in that much pain.  I cut out artificial sweetners, except for two sips of Coke Zero every night because Coke Zero is about the only thing that sounds good when I am in pain.  All I drink instead is Crystal Light Pure, and lots of it.  (I know two things about myself- I will not drink just plain water and I will not eat lettuce).  Despite the pain, I joined a gym with lots of great yoga classes because the doctor said to do yoga.   The first yoga class I thought I was going to throw up.  But I didn't.  Slowly I started to have more moments where I felt normal than when I felt piercing pain.  (Finally I felt well enough to take an Africa Jazz dance class.  And it was so much fun!  Until we danced to a jazzed up version of The Circle of Life, which was a bit too on point.)  

Anyway, things are much better these days.  One Starbucks I know just took a giant hit on their bottom line, but on the other hand I would buy stock in Crystal Light Pure if I were you.

I'm fairly certain this has a lot to do with the tamoxifen.  You know what would make me feel even better?  A puppy.  Y'all.  There is this sweet little french bulldog at the french bulldog rescue page that, according to her story, was given C-Sections with a craft knife at her former home, yet she is still so sweet at her foster home that when another puppy takes her Snausage she just politely asks for another one.  Someone in the blog world has to adopt this dog.  Her name is Lilac.  You could call her Lila. 

Well At Least We Know Who To Blame

It doesn't rain in this State.  Ever.  Sometimes it will threaten to, or even start to, but it is so dry that the drops never reach the ground.  And it certainly didn't rain when the State was on fire and before they got those fires contained.

But then it did rain the weekend of the festival.  The very expensive festival where The Franchise had a booth.  It rained so hard that there was a river going through our booth and our pans floated down the street.  They shut down the festival early.  And none of the vendors expected to break even - this being a big festival,the entrance fee was outrageous. 

And I am fine, but I got in an accident in my husband's truck.

Clearly you know whose fault this is.  George W. Bush.  Anyway, I remember once them saying that with global warming that Aspen was going to become the temperature of Texas.  Well guess what.  The fires and the floods and the heat.  The Gods are angry my friends. 

Burning Down the House

The State is on fire.

As much as I prefer a big blue Texas sky or a Carolina beach (or, really, the entire South) to these dry red mountains, it makes me sad that they are on fire.  We have friends who have been evacuated, and places we know and visit and hike have burned. 

I don't think it is helping my headaches, but at least our house isn't in the line of fire, so I can't complain.  I am not going to complain here about the migraine I worked through today.  Nope.  I'm just sayin'. 

Everyone is staying inside to stay out of the smoke. I am watching a new Chopped where all the chefs are from New Orleans.  New Orleans natives are lovely, aren't they?  And while we are on the topic of the Food Network, is everyone else on board with the hipster winning Food Network Star?  Love the hipster. I forget.  What did people watch before Food Network? 

No Thanks I Have A Headache

Y'all.  I've had a headache every single day since we've been back, with three of those days being migraines.  South Carolina was better.

Perhaps I just require sweet tea and "yes ma'am" to feel well.

However.

The fact remains we have to live here for the next ten years minus three month and here gives me a headache.  A constant, sicky headache that no amount of Kate Spade sale on sale can solve.  Trust me.  I tried. 

The Primary Flaw with Fifty Shades of Grey

We are reading Fifty Shades of Grey for book club.  Not the Pi Phi Book Club, naturally, but The Other Book Club.  My sister-in-law read it on family vacation.  She wouldn't hang out with us because she couldn't put the book down.  My other sister-in-law read it through and thought it was so good that she read it again right away. 

Wha?

Because The Other Book Club girls are so excited about this book and are already discussing it ahead of schedule, I figured we would actually be discussing said book on book club night and I made a promise to myself to read it.

I got to page 400 on the plane back from vacation.  My friend can't wait to lend me books 2 and 3.  No.  Please No. 

Because SERIOUSLY.  Did you note the part about where she was dressing for her date and she used a comb to put up one side of her hair.  GIVE YOUR READERS SOME CREDIT.  No woman since the mid-70's has used a comb to decorate/hold up her hair.  And then you think well, hey, wait a minute.  Maybe the book takes place in the 70's.  But no.  The main characters converse via email in parts of the book.

And also I feel a bit wierded out by the fact that so many people are so excited to read about the kneeling and binding and submissive stuff.  Do they not have cable?  Are their lives more exciting than mine?  Am I missing something?  Am I normal?  Because, frankly, I just don't want to read any more about this woman in the play room.  I don't care AT ALL what happend to her in there next.  Or what happens to her and him outside of there.  I could care less about this book.  Someone explain.  Obviously I don't get it because I have used shouting caps and italics to try to describe my confusion here in this post. 

Mmmmm Savannah

I love Savannah. I am a misplaced Southernor. I could live here. I love orange. I could live in the house with the orange door. However, Mizz Paula. Mizz Cora Faye on Colfax Avenue in Denver, Colorado, gives your fried chicken a run for its money. Also, my tummy hurt when I left your restaurant. Also, my vegan stepdaughter could not find anything to eat in your restaurant. That being said, you make a fine biscuit. And my husband declared your peach cobbler the best ever and he knows from peach cobbler being from the South and having it every Sunday after church. Tomorrow, Charleston. Although I was not born there, I was married there, so I reserve the right to be a Carolina Girl. Tomorrow we will visit the beautiful house where we got married, and the cupcake store that catered our wedding. By then the kids will be grumpy and we will head back. But right now, off to start Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil.

I Want To Ride My Bicycle

When we were riding bikes around Hilton Head I saw many fantastic purses alligators.

How much fun is riding a bike?  I had a blast and now I want a bike when I go back home.  Except back home there are helmet laws.  It is also hotter back home than it is here in the South (stupid Rocky Mountains) (OH AND ALSO ON FIRE) and I imagine once I attempt to undertake said activity with a helmet I will no longer be a fan.  It's not vanity.  I even really like hats.  It's just that I don't like to exercise while wearing headgear.

Anyway, here in South Carolina where you can be stupid if you want to, I am loving cruising around on a bike, the wind in my hair and the purses lurking in the ponds. 

Shoes! Glorious Shoes!

I only brought one pair of shoes on vacation.  Dort.  Look how artfully they are styled.  If this law and/or franchise thing doesn't work out, I can always become a stylist.  Look out Rachel Zoe.  I am smaller, blonder and smarter than you, and I can also go bananas, literally.

Where were we.  Oh, yes.  These love Coach jelly gladiators that are now on sale for only about 30 bucks. You can wear them with dressy little sundresses, shorts, jeans or even down to the beach because you can just hose the sand right off.  Having brought only one pair of shoes has left me lots of room for bangles, and I am a bangle whore.  Who can resist a Kate Spade bangle that says Rock the Casbah.  Note the lack of question mark as that is a rhetorical question.  

Reverse Calamari

Maybe there was too much pressure on this vacation - With the job and the store, we needed some downtime. Yet I haven't been able to find the vacation groove yet. I spent yesterday trying to get into Fifty Shades of Grey for book club and I want those hours back. My husband and I got in a fight over his family. And my son got food poisoning. Calamari looks the same after it has been in your digestive system for a few hours. Just saying cause I was the one that got to see. However. I do have work to do today, so there's my little break from vacation. You know what though? Shopping does make me feel better. I got the most over the top pink and lime green and tunic dress. I will look so out of place at the Safeway while grocery shopping in the Rocky Mountains amongst the patagonia and the pajamas, but damn if it doesn't make me feel like I own a house being featured in Coastal Living. Tomorrow . . . the only shoes you need for vacation.

If You Can Make It There (And Back)

Last Saturday I was at a cocktail party wherein a lively discussion ensued regarding my upcoming trip to New York and its world class (as in third world) airport, LaGuardia. According to one gentleman, the odds were stacked against me that I would be able to find my rental car, which would be located nowhere near the airport, and that, if I did, I would nevertheless get lost in Queens all the while narrowly averting certain death. I'll admit, I got a little nervous. But then I considered these two things: (1) Nothing is worse than the traffic going to the mountains on I25 on a Saturday morning during ski season. Nothing. (2) The said gentleman was wearing a searsucker suit. I think the odds of someone wearing a searsucker suit getting out of Queens alive are probably different than someone dressed, say, normally. Well guess what. I was in my rental car and out of Queens within half an hour of getting off the plane. I have all my limbs and all my cash. The trick was that the 4 Points Sheraton in Long Island is not off of exit 48 GOOGLE it is off of exit 47. If you take exit 48 you have gone too far. (Note to the 4 Points Sheraton Plainview - I have a carpet steamer if you would like to use it.) Similarly, I made it from Long Island back to LaGuardia WITHOUT INCIDENT. Okay, so I left the parking break off when I returned the car and it rolled back onto the street, but one thing I found is that a Southern accent in New York is as good as being blonde. People just figure you not so smart and they overlook a lot. HOWEVER. First of all. Note to LaGuardia: Less mice in the Terminal B waiting area, more Starbucks. Also, if the guy whose job it is to restock the bins to get your stuff through security goes on break, maybe someone else could step in for him? Maybe. You give that some thought. Note to AirTran. Never. Again. What kind of fly by night operation is this AirTran establishment? They had to get 11 people off the plane before they would fly because we were too heavy. What? What? After an hour, and them threatening to "volunteer" people to get off the plane, 10 people took them up on their offer for a free night at a fine LaGuardia Hotel. Ten. Did you note they needed 11? Since nobody else volunteered, they said that they were going to start taking off suitcases, in no particular order, and if our suitcase wasn't at our final desination that is how we would know ours was one of the suitcases that got removed. Guess who is expecting a call at midnight to tell them whether or not their suitcase made the next flight out? Uh huh.

Get Me Outta Here

There are mice in the waiting area at Laguardia.

They use wee little glasses in the NE

Happy Place

Sitting at the Plainview Diner in Plainview New York. This is the real deal. Couldnt be happier.

Working for the Weekend

Throughout the summer The Franchise is signed up to do a kiosk at a concert every Friday and Saturday and a Farmer's Market every Sunday. Busy busy busy. But, you know, the alternative . . . clean house? garden? None of those things are my thing. I might as well be working. My husband and I had tossed around the idea of a second store. But we just got word that the spot we have identified has already been identified by another franchisee from out of town. Surely they would want the intown people to have the spot. Surely Shirley. I hope you have a great weekend!

Civilization Has Arrived

Kate Spade is coming to Aspen. You have no idea how this changes my opinion of this State. Cuteness has arrived. Which is a welcome break in a place where people dress to be ready for a hike at a moment's notice. I am just a little bitter, as the allergy doctor told me that my daily headaches, itchy eyes, and stuffy nose are just the result of the air here. People have the impression that you come here for the cool, fresh mountain air. In reality, the mountains just hold all the dry, polluted air hostage. It's kind of a strange life predicament to live in a place where you are counting down the days until you can move (10 years minus two and a half months). I moved around all my life, and eventually every place felt like home. I've been here ten years now, yet it has never felt right. I think I might feel better, however, if I joined the really nice gym. After running at the gym at the Park Hyatt Beaver Creek on the girls' trip, the Bally's just doesn't cut it anymore.

Book Club

Book Club would be so much better if I was in control. This month the girls have picked Shades of Gray. Huh. This doesn't sound like a book I would like, but then again I didn't jump on the bandwagon either for the adolescent wizards or the teenaged vampires or the Nordic crime solver. Although I could stand behind Daniel Craig. Anyway, the point is, maybe everyone could take their time, instead of reading the book, to source some Florence Broadhurst wallpaper for me.

I'll Take It

As you may recall, my doctor was on at me about taking tamoxifen to cut my breast cancer risk in half. Not being one prone to flowery language, she also let me know that it would give me hot flashes, I would gain weight, and that my lady parts would be affected as well. It is all she said it would be. I, personally, am contributing to global warming with the hot flashes. The lady part bits, well I am not going to get into that on the world wide web. However. I have lost my belly pooch. I have always been 5'1" and 105, but with a little belly. Well those tamoxifen tablets have evened me right out. Hello Kate Spade bikini.

Cozy Weekend

Ahhhhhhhh. Relaxing girls' trip to the mountains.

Step on This

Stepchildren issues. I feel like a doormat. With a little bag of burning poo left on it. I am going away this weekend with a girlfriend. I haven't done this since university, and I was actually thinking I was going to miss my husband and the kids. However. I need my best girlfriend. I need a bottle of wine and my best girlfriend who will commiserate with me and who always makes me laugh. It doesn't hurt that we are going to one of the most beautiful towns in the 48 contiguous States. It is going to be cold and rainy. It is a good thing I just got some really cute rainboots. It will help to get through the poo on my way out the door.

No Slothing

A day late, but let me tell you about my mom. When my mom was sick, she would go to chemotherapy in the morning, we would meet for chili rellenos for lunch because that is what she craved AND THEN SHE WOULD GO INTO WORK AND CHEERFULLY WORK FOR THE REST OF THE DAY. So. I have a very low tolerance for sloth. That is my soapbox for today.

Do We Offend?

Sometimes I wonder if I am an embarassment. I mean, true, I own way, way too many ridiculously patterned Cafe Capri pants from J.Crew. (I embraced them as a solution to my never-ending quest to find pants I didn't have to hem, being 5'1'', until I saw myself in the mirror and realized that what Cafe Capri pants end up doing on me is not so much being capris as being just generally oddly lengthed pants but buy them I continue to do as I have yet to find a good tailor in this town.) And I listen to The Bridge on my Sirius radio despite the fact that I am way, way too young for it. (What can I say. Every time I hear "Harry, keep the change," it makes my day.) And I almost always am off on a new topic before I finish the sentence I am currently speaking, causing people to look at me like they missed something, to which I have to clue them in that they have. We switched topics. But none of this my father or stepmother would know. They haven't been around enough. Yet I have to wonder if my son and I make them uncomfortable in some way. I texted my stepmother to tell her Happy Mother's Day. Oh I know. The former Southern Belle in me says texting is an overutilized and often inappropriate medium for many things (See, for example, previous blog entry wherein store manager quit job via text). However. Both of my stepdaughters texted me today to say Happy Mother's Day. That was all I needed. It was a sweet sentiment that, frankly, hasn't occurred every year since I married their father (different post on that issue). So, taking a clue from their playbook, I texted my stepmother. Who never texted, called, emailed back. So, this leads us to this question. Is it wrong, then, for me to ask for my pictures back. That is, the pictures that I bought on a trip to New Orleans of New Orleans because my family used to live in New Orleans that hung in my bedroom at my family house before my mom died, but my father's new wife took without asking to hang in her and my father's bedroom at their new house? I THINK NOT. My stepdaughter goes to Tulane now. I am sure she would appreciate those pictures in her room at our house.

Humbled, Honored, Forever In Debt

I alluded to this yesterday but it is worth repeating. I have been so amazed at our employees who have stepped up to help out when our manager abandonded us because she wanted to go on one last bender and then check herself into rehab. These are employees who could go across the street and make more money at busier jobs. These are employees who have no place to go with us - there is no career ladder for them. These are employees who make it possible for my husband and I to keep well-paying careers and run this investment as well - that is, employees who would have every right to consider us gluttons and deserving of any chaos that befalls us. Yet these are employees who have volunteered extra time, rearranged schedules, taken on more work, and spent their own money to be there and get things for the store. These are employees who called to see if I needed them, and then told me to get some rest when they didn't me. I am humbled. I do not know how to express my thanks in any way that seems worthy. We keep hearing from our employees that we are nice and that we are good people. Is that all there is? I think that might be all there is. A little nice, a little respect.

Cry or Reboot

At 5:23 a.m. this morning the store manager quit via text. The store manager who was scheduled to make the product and be the front person until the second person got there at 10:00. I cannot leave my law office to rescue the store. No dice no deal not ever. However, this should only ever be an issue if the store had an emergency and (1) my husband is out of town, and (2) the manager isn't available. hahahahahaha. Here we are. I am overwhelmed and, for a blogger, almost speechless, regarding the people who stepped up to help out today, the people who not only answered our call for help, but who stepped up and anticipated where we would be needing help and offered it willingly. My husband coordinated the emergency store schedule from China, and I went in immediately after work with supplies and to do paperwork. We are taking our life in 15 minute increments. I left the store becuase I had to do the uniform and towel laundry ready for 5 a.m. tomorrow morning. As I sat down to have some cereal the phone rang. The entire point of sale system was down. There were really only two options. Cry or reboot. I chose reboot.

New Fangled Google, What?

Okay, I am not going to lie. It took me way too long to figure out how to post using this new intuitive blogger template. Like, two weeks. It is intuitive like the iPad is intuitive, I guess. But this is coming from someone who at first thought you changed the iPad screen by shaking it like an etch-a-sketch. I would log in and then I would remember why I hadn't posted in awhile. I couldn't figure out how to. Yet the legal matters of entire company rest at my feet. One of our key employees at the store has flipped out. Like, attempted to check herself into the hospital out of exhaustion flipped out. We are wondering how this employee is exhausted as she is not putting in enough time at the store to be exhausted, yet here we are. Accordingly, despite having both a medical doctor and my therapist tell me I had to take a day off this past weekend for my health, our key employee called in because she needed to rest. In related news, our key production person forever endeared himself to me when I overheard him telling another employee to save putting out the flavor labels for my son, because he really liked to do that. We had just had a discussion about how my son is getting bullied at school. That's a whole post unto itself. If I could completely figure out this new fangled blogger template I would have put "that's" in italics. Anyway, it melted my heart that this guy was looking out for my son. It's interesting the people in the end that you end up counting on, and the ones you thought you could count on that leave you stranded. I'm a terrible judge of character. And also a terrible judge of shoes. Just because it's a Tory Burch wedge does not mean it is comfortable. In fact, what it means is that there are shoes out there, in addition to the toe shoes that I wore when I danced wtih the New Orleans Ballet, that can actually make feet bleed.

What Could Go Wrong?

By now the store has its own routine and the opening month's kinks have been worked out. My husband went out of town this weekend, and I was looking forward to a nice restorative weekend of some checking in at the store and getting some good rest to finally kick this mother of all colds. Instead I dealt with a 36 hour emergency plumbing problem (that is, to the extent that crud from the grease trap is not suppose to be seeping through the floor tiles in your production kitchen) and then, I crap you negative not an hour after the plumber left and declared us good to go, a credit card machine that stopped working. I AM TIRED IN MY BONES. Wait. Don't you have a manager? Yes. Yes we do. But she got in a fist fight Friday night and was not feeling all that well. Do you remember that book that was kind of popular in the early 90s that was by the checkout counter at all the Waldenbooks and Borders? It was called "Life's Little Instruction Book." I remember one and only one rule. Resist the urge to open a restaurant.

Sick Day

Y'all. I rarely call a sick day, yet here we are. Not feeling too creative, I decided to post this picture. From Christmas. For two reasons.

First, I guess I kind of misled you about the rest of my house not being girly.

Second, look what is on t.v. If I ever forget when I took this picture, I can just look at the t.v. and know.

When Did The Girly Happen

For a relatively ungirly house, I have a very girly mantle.

The Great Puppy Standoff That Appears to be Lasting Forever

I finally decided to take my doctor's recommendation to begin Tamoxifen to cut my breast cancer risk in half. I've been thinking about it for a year now because you are not suppose to get pregnant while on Tamoxifen. Not that getting pregnant was a real consideration - but sometimes I have this tiny little twinge that I would love to experience having a child that is born not in the same week that my mother died and the same year that the baby's daddy and I decided we should get divorced.

Given that I will be taking away the possibility that I will ever again have child, the LEAST my husband could do is let me have a puppy.

Yet here we are. Puppyless. Because my husband hates puppies.

I am not, by nature, a brow-beater or a nag. Yet here I have nagged and begged and won't let it go. And he won't budge.

Jazzman

I would consider reading Carol King's autobiography if it weren't for Jazzman. Jazzman makes me carsick. Even when I am not in a car. In fact, I am feeling carsick right now.

Speaking of sick, I was craving wings last night so we went to the Buffalo Wild Wings. Located in the Walmart parking lot. Let's just call it an experience. That will repeat itself. Those Asian Zing wings are awesome.

When Kids Tweet

It's not a good thing.

First of all, there is no expectation of privacy if you are twitting all over the planet using your real name. So. I feel like I can call her on this without the drama that ensued when I found her myspace page. Although, still, there - NO EXPECTATION OF PRIVACY.

She was all mad and accused me of snooping when we discussed the myspace page. Excuse me. You take a desk job and sit there for eight plus hours without getting a little bit distracted at around 3:45 each afternoon and then begin googling people you know. Or pictures of puppies. I'm just saying. If I didn't have a job, I am sure I would not be so in the know about the social media forums of our children.

If I call her on this (because it's some fake drama about her family - mostly her mom's side - but still disrespectful and wrong), the twit site would go down and we would lose some of the clues we have about what is going on in her life. And, as noted, it's really only mean things about her mom. But if I know that some of the drama is fake, is it all fake?

Thank God the youngest child in the house is a boy. So much less drama.

My Magic Bag

I had doctor's orders, people, DOCTOR'S ORDERS, to find a smaller bag. As you know, I was in search of a grown up bag. Left to my own devices, if comes in the color of candy, has a bow or sequins, and it is big enough to hold a small dog, I will choose that bag.

However.




As things are going well at the place of employ, I felt like assuming a bit more of a professional handbag. See to the left. Amazing, huh? It is the perfect color to wear with gold or silver. And it holds all these things in nice little separate compartments:

My driving glasses, in their case
My sunglasses, in their case
My iPad
My work phone
My personal phone
My makeup bag
My big overstuffed wallet
My Sirius radio
My set of keys fit for a janitor

And it all tucks under my arm. Praise be the Coach Jayden.

Happy Hour(s)

Yesterday, after their shifts, our manager and our production person went out and got wasted, and then came back to the store.

I've done a few happy hours in my time.

However.

I've never required a boss to drive me home.

Also, our sales were scary slow the two days it was cold and snowy.

Getting Away With Something

I'm on a business trip for the next two days. I am not at the store and I am not in the office. I do have to go to our local office here, but just to observe.

Don't tell anyone but I totally feel like I am on vacation.

HA. Hahahahaha.

Here's My Checkbook. You Can Just Fill It Out.

Yesterday the ice machine broke.

Today the fridge stopped working.

The computer can't open Quickbooks.

Our advertised free WiFi works only for some people.

The music system cuts in and out.

Our first customer complaint.

I would like one day where I don't write a major check for this business.

A Day in Tsubo

I first saw these on a girl who I worked with at the nonprofit and I thought they were cute. Of course, she was the type that could wear athletic clothes on casual Fridays and look cute, whereas if I wore my lulu lemon hoodie to the office I would just look like an idiot.

I thought the shoes were so cute that I googled them and then I learned that they were designed for comfort. So I immediately hated them. Who wears comfortable shoes?

Well I will tell you who. Someone who spent an entire morning mopping a restaurant floor in career heels before she went to her lawyer job and someone whose two big toenails fell off after running in her son's shoes by mistake. What? TMI?

So I broke down and bought a pair of these comfortable shoes out of desperation and reminding myself that I once thought that they were cute before I knew they were suppose to be comfortable.

My feet are such wreck that I cannot tell you my feet felt great in these shoes, but I really did not even notice I was wearing heels. And I suspect if my sad two job runners feet were normal feet, these would be perfect. In other words, I approve.

Love This One

The boy keeping himself occupied with the iPad camera while his mom shops for a new grown up bag (i.e. not Kate Spade. Although I must admit, that astro turf shopper is so cool.)

And Then The Thrill Wore Off

This week my son is on Spring Break and my boss said I should just work form home today and find some time to do something with my son (provided I got a letter out this morning).

Ahhhhh! Without having to get anybody out the door, this meant I could sleep until 7:00. Bliss. A full night's sleep. It has been weeks and weeks on end since I have had (1) a full night's sleep, or (2) not seen 5 on clock.

At 5:45 a.m. our morning person for the store called in sick. I so very very much wanted that full night's rest and easy morning. I NEEDED IT FOR MY SANITY. Oh well.

My What a Nice Coffee Machine You Have

Don't hate me because my coffee machine is beautiful.

The coffee business is picking up slowly. Our coffee is really, really good. Right now I open at 6:30 but we probably only serve a handful of coffees before I leave to go to my law job. We certainly don't sell enough to pay overhead during that time, but we also can't start a morning coffee business reputation if we aren't open.

Things slowed down considerably altogether after our first week honeymoon. I had planned to purchase a grownup purse this evening (i.e. not a Kate Spade) but I think I had better wait.

Obsessed

I love color.

Remember after the 80s fizzled and everyone went monochrome black and wore understated jewelry. boo.

I fear we are headed back there after all the neon this season - sooner or later the general public is going to say, "If I see one more neon yellow accessory, I am going to just start buying all black." Hear me now and remind me how I right I was later - Vogue's September Issue is going to be all about black. But until then, and after then if you are like me and live in a place where nobody cares what it says in Vogue or if you wear your pajamas to the Safeway at 3 in the afternoon, I dare you to go to kendrascott.com and not fall in love with something in your favorite color.

My favorite color is not, actually, pink, and it would never occur to me to accessorize with a feather or something that looks like a pastie, but darn if I don't want these. In pink and in blue and in white and in yellow and in green. Go forth bloggy friend and play on Kendra Scott. You shall have fun. Plus, girlfriend is a Texan. Also, having lived in Dallas, and having returned to Dallas from time to time, I want to apologize on behalf of my fair city for inflicting upon you Big Rich Texas. I know not of where one digs up such scanks.

Nooks

Y'all have seen this before - my favorite nook. It's the kitchen window with the angel my friend Cheryl gave me after my mom passed away, the picture of Tahiti where we stayed the first night of our honeymoon, and you can barely see them, but also all the origami butterflies that my son made me that go up the wall. I love standing there at the kitchen sink and watching the world go by on the Parkway.

My other favorite nook? Our store in the morning. I love being near my restaurant quality espresso machine, having sunrise light up the store, listening to our Manager's Eagle music on the stereo, and greeting the area's residents when they come in to try out our coffee. It's just beautiful.

So, you ask, why is there not a picture of that store nook? Because we're not at the store! What? It's true. Of course we are watching it on our iPads. But we decided to trust our closer for one night. Oh, we'll be there tomorrow, but for now it's family night. Chicken drumsticks and Arrested Development. Also, frozen treats don't sell we'll when the temp is near freezing. The store is very quiet today. However. We got invited to be a vendor this summer at the city's biggest arts festival.

Whoop here it is

It's like having a new baby.

The first day our drain stopped up and the production person was late. By Friday night I stood in the kitchen and cried, just out of pure exhaustion. By Saturday, my husband and I were able to step away to dinner. We can watch our store from cameras that feed to our iPads. We watched the monitor all through dinner.

Open! Open! Open!

Today we roll back that great big door and start selling. Happy birthday Store.

But most importantly, today is my son's birthday. Happy birthday Sunshine.

Grand Opening

The store opens in 2 days!

Thank God. I don't think anybody at my house has had a full night's sleep or three meals in quite some time. I'm not fooling myself - there are going to be extra hard weeks ahead after open, but it has to settle into some kind of system, yes? Yes. We're just going to go with yes.

We open on my son's birthday.

Thank God. Because I haven't had time to shop or plan a birthday. However, he has an entire store full of treats to choose from and call his own.

In The Gutter

I really have only so much brain power and it all gets used up at work (that is, the first job, not the store). Sometimes I leave work and I'll be at a stop light and I will have used up all my smarts for the day so I will have to doublethink what red means. Thank goodness for Louisiana public school drivers ed. Red on top means stop stop stop.

Does anybody else have this problem? It all gets used up at work. My family will try to hold a conversation with me at night and I won't even understand what they are saying. Also, since when did they all start eating so loudly and while they were talking?

This is going to be a problem since tomorrow night is new employee training at the store and lets not forget also bowling for team building starting at 8:00, also known as my almost bedtime.

However, tomorrow between 5:30 a.m. and 5:45 a.m. I will have figured out the entire Federal Acquisition Regulation system. What I am saying is that it is all downhill from there, finally ending up in the gutter.

The Butterfly Effect from a Bow Tie

My son is amazing. He is kind. He wakes up every morning smiling. He's crazy smart.

He also likes to wear blazers and bow ties. Every day. To school. I was thinking this would be like when he was two and wouldn't leave the house without a bib. Was that a fight worth having? No. And after about two weeks that phase was over.

So I thought maybe the bow tie phase would last two weeks. It has lasted months. Last night when we were at crewcuts because my son wanted to shop, he tried on pants and tucked his shirt way down flat into them. I told him that wasn't how it was done and he said that it was just the nerd in him shining through.

I asked him why he thought he was a nerd and he said it was because his dad said that. Being a mother is hard. I wonder if we would be here if I had said no to the bow tie - if I had insisted on jeans and hoodies. It's just a bow tie. But it's a bow tie. On a ten year old. Every day.

Bowling. Ewww.

My husband thinks it would be great if we did some team building bowling after the employee's first training on Wednesday.

Oh where to begin where to begin.

A. team building
B. bowling
C. Do you know what I would do with a spare hour in my life right now? Not Bowl.

Because do you know what I would do if my employer said we are go bowling to do some team building? Hate them.

It's interesting working with your spouse. Especially the lists of daily tasks that get assigned to you via spreadsheet. I have to draw the line at bowling though.

From the Inside

The entire front of our store opens up.

Ouch.

Apparently you can be ready, able and (stupidly) willing to hand over university-comparable tuition for a private MIDDLE SCHOOL yet still not get in. Apparently there are sufficient enough of such idiots willing to do this that private middle school becomes so competitive that your child - who not incidentally happens to have an IQ that puts him in the 98th percentile of smarts compared to not just other ten year olds but all people on the planet - does not get in.

Wait. No. That does defy logic.

PERHAPS IT HAS SOMETHING TO DO WITH THE EX HUSBAND BRINGING HIM TO HIS INTERVIEW AT SAID MIDDLE SCHOOL SO TIRED FROM A WEEKEND WEDDING IN OMAHA THAT HE BUILT A BED OUT OF THE CHAIRS IN THE ADMISSIONS OFFICE WAITING ROOM. I'm just saying. Perhaps.

Only Time Will Tell

Today at exactly 3:00 we get an email providing whether or not my son got into the private middle school I really like - BECAUSE IT IS NORMAL. That's right. That's the state of education in this fine town. There appears to be one normal middle school.

However . . .

You may recall this story. The weekend before the interview my ex-husband and his girlfriend took my son to a wedding in Omaha. I requested of ex-husband just one thing - that he bring son to interview clean and rested. Son was so tired that he made a bed out of the chairs in the admissions office waiting room.

So our chances are not feeling good. I know one psychologist who works with the schools who tells me that the school has already notified their choices and the notificaiton email is for the rest of us. I have had another school counselor tell me, in all honesty, that it wasn't good that he made a bed in the admissions office. I am very nervous.

If he doesn't make it into this normal school, our options are this alternative school he is already in or our local public school which was given a grade of D on an A to F scale by the agency that ranks them. Extreme clock watching today my blog friends. Extreme clock watching.

I'm Short!

Not since I thought that I was Winona Ryder in Reality Bites (pre shoplifting days) have I had short hair. And here we go again.

I am not sure my husband loves it but now I am Carey Mulligan cute. Oh yes I am.

Today, Oh Today

I woke up to an email telling me I was wrong about a legal issue, from a non-lawyer. Not that I can't be wrong because it happens.

However.

I'm a bit of a grump today. I dislike February 14th through March 18th. (After dinner on Valentine's Day from until 4 days after my son was born, my mom got really sick and never recovered. It was 11 years ago, yes, but you know how certain times of the year can do that to you.) I am tired of cold weather and gloves and scraping the car and painfully dry air. I have any overwhelming number of things to do. My house looks like a Hoarders after shot (you know, still not great but at least not imminently in danger of a condemnation). And everybody is bothering me.

I just cannot wait for that time tonight when we declare it done and crawl into bed and watch a show. We are in the middle of the first season of Californication. Also, I feel like I misled you about Portlandia. I thought the first two episodes were so good. Then they got okay. Now I find it unbearable. We are about 6 shows into Californication and it is way, way more cleaver.

Our Beautiful Store

Well, imagine it all cleaned up.

Love Hurts

Are you ever in a meeting when you look down and consider just how much you love your shoes? I have some gorgeous Frye Harlow pumps. Dear God they are beautiful.

However.

Despite what the rest of the reviews say, they do not fit small. These are the most painful shoes I own. I know what you are thinking. You are thinking, "Why do you not buy these shoes at the store instead of online?" Oh we may have a Nordstrom here, but it is the smallest Nordstrom ever.

Nothing To See Here

Friday night, on our drive through Wyoming to Montana, it began to snow right outside of Ft. Collins. Then came a blizzard. In all my driving around the mountains, I have never experienced anything as frightening as our drive through Wyoming. We couldn't pull over because there was not enough visibility to ensure that someone would see us before they crashed into us. So we inched along. At times we were behind a snow plow, which you would think would be beneficial, but the winds were so strong that snow was just swirling in a dense, blinding cloud all around us. We couldn't see the lines on the road or the sides of the road. We didn't know if we were about to drive off a cliff.

Hahahahahaha. As if.

The next day, when the snow stopped, we were able to see what we couldn't see the night before. Miles and miles and miles of nothing. No cliffs. No trees. No Stuckey's. No McDonalds for road fries and strawberry milkshakes. NOTHING. If you ever want to drive between Colorado and Montana, I will save you the trouble because the following is what there is to see: Nothing.

There was this one "town" where we pulled over for gas and the main street consisted of, in addition to the gas station, a middle school, a gun store, a bear taxidermist and a church.

I have said it before, but I say it now with renewed vigor. I NEVER need to see snow again as long as I live. It's terrifying.

Billings or Bust

Our trip to Billings got called of last weekend on account of the snow. So here we go tonight. First to Casper then to Billings to pick up restaurant equipment.

If you had told me when I was a new law grad getting ready to take the California Bar that ten years later I would be driving to Montana to pick up restaurant equipment, I would not have believed you. Yet here we are.

But first off to spend a day at my law job that I love. Life is crazy. Good and Crazy.

Employees, Sheesh

We have been so lucky regarding the people who have stepped forward wanting to work at our store. One of my biggest fears was that we wouldn't have employees. So far, that has not been the case.

Here's the thing about employees though. They are expensive. Even the minimum wage ones, and I don't want to pay anybody minimum wage. Do you know how much we, the itsy bitsy little employer has to pay in taxes for the honor of putting people to works. A. LOT.

Do you know how much product we are going to have to sell to stay afloat.
A. LOT.

But I do have to say this - figuring all this out has been very empowering and fun. It's been late nights (well mostly really early mornings as I am a morning person), and what amounts to a second full time job, but it has all been really, really fun.

It's a Tough Job Finding an Average Pastry

Although at The Franchise we make our own main product fresh every day, we can sell pastries as an ancillary part of the business.

On Saturday we endeavoured to try every bakery in the city to identify said pastries. This was fun and also I now feel huge.

The amazing part was the bakeries that sold products we couldn't believe they actually asked money for. This one store known for its beautiful cakes provided us with a cupcake and a muffin that nobody in my family would eat, and nobody in my family is a picky eater.

So it was a fun weekend but also a little bit frustrating. Who knew it could be so hard to find a decent muffin? It's at times like this that I miss Dallas so badly it hurts. The culinary scene in this town is as average as it gets. Also it's dry and cold and I am seriously considering that maybe I need some Patagonia in my wardrobe. It's a weird thing living somewhere where you never feel at home. But I digress. Really the point is we still need pastries.

Snow Day

Do you remember my picture from Monday? If I never see snow again in my entire life, that would be just fine.

However.

Do you know what is delicious? A snow storm that is so big they shut down the schools and the city. One of my favorite things in the whole world is those extra 15 minutes under the covers after you find out it is snow day. Alas then you remember that you are not just a full time lawyer but also a franchise owner and you get your warm self outta bed to shovel. (Don't tell my husband, but I actually like to shovel.)

We are suppose to head to Billings, the one in Montana, to pick up some restaurant equipment this weekend. We shall see.

To My Fellow Counsel

To My Fellow Corporate Counsel:

Yes, we have the cushiest jobs on the planet. To wit, yesterday at 7 p.m. I asked our East Coast outside counsel a question and needed an answer by the next morning. It's okay. I know what we pay them.

However, inside counsel at other entities . . .

You cannot insist that I use your form when you have not correctly identified in that form the law to which the form applies. Further, when you misspell said law, you should at least misspell it consistently. We all make mistakes. I'm just saying. If you are going to insist, then I insist you proofread it. Or at least have your assistant proofread it.

Words of the Semi-Wise Masseuse

I see a masseuse on a monthly basis. Not because I am a glutton but for medical reasons. Really. I have a knot on the left side of my neck that my doctor says is probably causing my daily headaches. And the masseuse found it and she works on it and presses it and induces more pain so you just have to take it on faith that inducing the pain will somehow lead to less pain.

The masseuse and I were talking (because I am so not in touch with my inner zen and there is no way I could peace out for AN ENTIRE HOUR ARE YOU KIDDING ME) and I was asking her what might cause said knot. She looked over at my heap of clothes and accessories in the corner of the room and said, "your fabulous over-sized handbags."

Do you hear what I hear? She is saying I need some new handbags.

She also said that my high heels are bad for my back. Now that's just crazy talk. Those masseuses can get a little loopy. Have you ever tried to walk in flats? Impossible.

The Difference of a Year

A tough day at the office. Seriously, I am working. Well at this very moment I am blogging. But this is where I am practicing law today. Oh what a difference a year can make.

Grand Opening Countdown

The Franchise opens in one month!

Our house is knee deep in restaurant equipment that can't yet be stored in the construction zone of our store. We hired our manager away from a celebrity chef. We are getting job applicants and we haven't even posted yet.

I am thrilled and worried and overwhelmed all at the same time.

The best part - one of our required pieces of equipment is an espresso machine (that is worth more than both my and my husband's car put together). We own our own restaurant grade (palace grade) espresso machine. Really what else is there now to attain in life? Sadly, we cannot test run this at our house because it requires special plumbing. Also, the Franchise mother ship would not let me order it in orange (orange not being one of the corporate approved colors for the store) so it is just black. Perhaps I shall call it the Death Star. Actually I have never watched Star Wars so I don't know if that's a bad omen. The point is that it is huge and means business.

Running to Portlandia

We broke down and signed up for the gym. The cheap gym - as noted here ad nauseum it pains me greatly to pay to run.

However. Stupid snow.

So this winter we joined the Bally's. Let's just say that you get what you pay for. My husband went with me last night and asked where they keep the towels. Hahahahaha. Towels. I go to the same treadmill every single time (what else would you expect from someone who eats the same thing for breakfast and lunch every day) and I can assure you that said treadmill has never been cleaned by anyone but me.

(And I can assure you that if anyone else is ever on my treadmill I do not know what I will do with myself.)

Anyway, I have a new favorite time of the day - the time I am on my treadmill watching Portlandia on my iTouch. I think Portlandia might be an acquired taste. I am quite sure my husband, who hates Flight of the Concords with an intense passion (he will leave the room if I am watching it), would not like Portlandia. Here is a great line from Portlandia, "Who puts their dog on a pole like a stripper?" I am running on the treadmill laughing out loud.

Is A Navy Closed Toe Shoe Too Much To Ask

I love me some Tory Burch shoes. Love. They are simply gorgeous. The perfect combination of fun and professional for the office, and the heels aren't those stupid wobbly spiky things. Random men tend to make comments about my footwear when I am wearing my Tory Burch shoes.

However.

First, it's hard to find a pair without that HUGE double T logo that - I'm sorry - looks like a swastika. Did nobody in the logo focus group raise their hand and say, "We are making a big mistake here with this logo." I guess not. Anyway, despite the fact that I love her shoes (and bags) half the product line is out of the question given that terrible logo. I just can't get past it.

Second, I am between a 5.5 and a 6 in her shoes. They don't fit me. So it is with deep regret that I send a pair back today. I thought by some miracle that buying a pair in a different material would make a difference, alas no. Obviously I do realize how obnoxious it is that this is my biggest problem for the day. But you try and find navy closed toe career shoes. (It's snows here. And I don't have a driver. Open toe shoes out of question.)

Timing is Everything

In one of the more unfortunately timed Kate Spade product themes . . . the 2012 Spring cruise ship collection . . .

Too Much For Ten

My ten year old spent the evening with his head in his hands talking about how he spends half of his life trying to avoid his father's long term girlfriend. (I note here that he never complains about have to go back to his dads, so we're not there yet.)

It would take something incredibly egregious for me to believe that my son not living with his father 50% of the time was the right thing to do.

However.

I am quite sure that The Girlfriend is a bad situation. She's caustic and sarcastic and generally unpleasant. I can understand where my son is coming from because still, after 6 years, this woman will not look me in the eye to say hello. We have had one conversation, about 5 years ago, that ended with her throwing a fit (yelling loudly) at me in front of my son's head of school. We have not exchanged a word since - not for lack of my trying. Like I said, she won't acknowledge me. So I imagine someone who can act like that is a bear to live with.

My ex-husband gets iPads from his work, so he gave our son his old iPad. Except he forgot to erase some messages on it. My son brought it to me last night with his eyes wide and on the verge of tears. He found a message from his dad intended for The Girlfriend where he is very angry with The Girlfriend. My son, being the incredibly self-aware little 10 year old that he is, claimed he was upset about it because now he had even less understanding of why his dad kept The Girlfriend. This is all too much for a ten year old.

And what do you do here? The parent in this situaiton is fine - but the other? Not so okay. As my son pointed out, things only get worse if you try to bring this up to either of them.

Take Me Back

Everyone I know is over winter now. Why don't we live in the Keys? Because really, you can have snow, slush, mittens, bloody noses and dry flaky skin . . . or you could have this.

Early Bird

I'm a morning person. I've always known this. In university I got up at 4:00 a.m. to study for my exams. Pretty much for me if it doesn't happen before 10:00 a.m., it's not happening. I am useless for work, errands or even holding much of any intelligent conversation in the evening.

That being said, my alarm had been set for 6:30 for most of these past years and I found it hard to get up. Once I was up, I was fine. But I always wanted a little bit more snooze.

However.

Because I have been so knocked out by this year's flu, getting things done in the morning has been more important than ever. I am certainly not getting anything done after noon. So I have set my alarm for earlier - 5:30 a.m. And do you know what? That's my set point. I pop right out of bed without wanting to hit snooze, awake and ready to go. I sleep great through the night.
Of course, I am in bed and asleep by 9:00. But after all these years I found my perfect awake time. It is a little disturbing that it is 5:30, yet here we are. Morning people are uncool. Night owls are cool. Night people are edgy and know about any good new t.v. Morning people include Martha Stewart, a 5 o'clocker. Oh well. I am what I am.

Franchisee University

My husband and our manager are at Franchisee University.

1. He was talking to someone from the Mother Ship who said he was hired to figure out why the franchisees aren't making any money. Super.

2. One of the franchisees was asking during one of the sessions about what sizes of products we offer. Huh. Just an interesting question at this stage of the game. Perhaps the question in this item 2 causes the result in item 1? Let's go with that.

Three Weeks

I don't know what is happening in your neck of the woods, but here the flu is lasting about three weeks. I haven't been a good blogger lately, I know. I can't remember eve r before a time in my life actually wanting to spend the day in bed, yet here we are.

However.

I have already been out of work too long while the kid was sick. So today I pull my stuff together and try to make it work, but in reality I will stare at a computer screen while I should be in bed. A hard start to the new year.

Read This

Because I've been too flu-ey to do much of anything lately, I've been sitting on the couch going through piles of books and magazines. I just reread Animal Vegetable Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver.

I think that book should be required reading. It has changed the way my family eats and the way I think about food altogether. Her chapter on veganism is the most eloquent opinion on the subject I have ever read. Veganism is a touchy subject around our house. More on that some other day.

Also, we have a manager for the store. There's no reason that you, my blog friends, shouldn't enjoy my rapid changes of topic just like my other friends.

Rock Star Things

Three things I couldn't live without right now:

1. My Kendra Scott cuff. On sale at Nordstrom. Makes me feel like a rock star.

2. Safeway brand Theraflu in berry green tea flavor. Also makes me feel like a rock star. Stupid flu.

3. Immersion blender. My son thinks I am a rock star because I froth his Swiss Miss.

Step On This

Getting a divorce was way less trauma than all the literature predicted it would be. There were lots of elements about my situation that made that conclusion possible, but I have never second guessed that decision.

However.

Blending a family with two sets of children from two previous marriages has been more difficult than anything I could have imagined. We failed here. Not so much a stepmother as a stepping stone.

Checking You Out

Here are two of the dolphins checking out the humans. They swim right up when you approach the pod. The Dolphin Research Center really does seem like a lovely place for the dolphins to spend their life.

training a dolphin today

Up All Night, The Reality Show

My son woke up screaming in the middle of the night because of the pain in his throat. I ended up falling back asleep right through the hacking and the crying to find this note:

3:30 a.m.
Dear Mom,
if you wake up and my voice is lost again,
it isn't now. I coughed up a gigantic wad of nosegoop
and my voice is fine. 3 catches:
1 ears a' poppin' occasionally
2 my voice is 2Hz higher
3 I don't feel great

I wish you were awake to hear my beautiful voice
signed
enfermo nino

PS penguin says hello

The Year of The Bug

About a week ago, a group of foreign buggies took up residency in my intestines. Every time I eat I get bad cramps. Having not been able to eat, I have not been able to run. Having not been able to run, I have been grumpy and tired. My friend said the exact same thing happened to her, so I guess it is a bunch of buggies making the rounds.

I sweat like crazy last night, so I was hoping it was the buggies making their grand exit, but here I sit, slowly trying to sip an almond milk latte and my intestines are going ARE YOU FRIGGIN' CRAZY. It has been far too long since I have eaten and as a result of this vicious cycle I am still looking at a Christmas tree and a house that is a disaster.

Anyway, Happy New Year. For me, I am hoping to start the New Year later this week when my son and I head to The Keys. His big Christmas present this year was that I arranged for him to be a dolphin trainer for a day.