Archive for October, 2006

Why I Love Nashville..

Picture it:  A beautiful, bright sunny Wednesday morning.. I’m driving my two year old down Broadway… We pass the usual Jeff Foxworthy posters for CMT - they used to bug me, now I just consider them part of the skyline and respect them for their kistch value..  It was too early for the usually entertaining ten gallon har wearing tourists - I would be a liar if I said that it doesn’t make my day, my WEEK, when I see foreigners (will I get in trouble if I admit it’s only the Asians tourists that make me jump with glee) who have gone and bought the buy-one-get-two-free boots at Boot Corral, aforementioned ten gallon hat and chaps and are proudly practicing their John Wayne strut down the steet…. We drive past Tooties and toward the river - at this time of day, things seem… neat.  And, admittedly, any time of the day I really can say I get a hoot out of the “theme” of this city.

So, this morning, I see something that has made Nashville quite possibly the freakin coolest place on the face of the Earth in my book.  Two men - both about forty of fifty years old each wearing long trench coats, chaps, boots with spurs (with SPURS!!), black cowboy hats and - here’s the clincher- they were SERIOUS about it.. These guys looked like they were right off the set of the The Good, The Bad and The Ugly… I actually snorted a giddy ”yes!” as I drove by and entertained the idea of circling the block just to see them again.. Seriously, it made my entire day.  Where else can you see grown men dressed up like my son used to when he was four - it’s beautiful if you think about it, without laughing, for a minute..  Men getting to play dress up again and a whole city that doesn’t even blink an eye over it…. ooooooooh I love this city.  Now if there were only a place where we ladies could walk down the street dressed like Liza Minelli in Caberet.. Who says there’s equality in this world?

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Must… Get… Sleep

I have never felt more juvenile in my whole life.  My husband is out of town and my imagination is running wild and I am, between the hours of 10pm and 4am, quite certain that there is an army of bad men out in my yard waiting, just waiting, for me to doze off so they can come and rape me, pilage my goods and steal my children.  They are clothed in rags and are wearing camoflauge and are armed to the teeth with mean looking boo-boo makers (that’s what our two year old calls scissors and knives).  I’m sure watching creepy episodes of season two of Lost isn’t helping.

This is utterly ridiculous.  Needless to say, with this unmanagable imagination of mine, I haven’t been sleeping much these last days.  Today, I am on a mission to ease my worried mind.  I have decided it is one set of windows, in particular, that is freaking me out and making me feel vulnerable to the outside world.  There are seven windows in my bedroom that are like little boat windows - they are right over my bed and, if you were to stand right out side of them, you can basically see everything in my room including me all alone in my bed holding a chef’s knife and giving whatever might be outside the surliest, most dangerous face I can muster up.  They are large enough to crawl through but not large enough to cover with shades - and they don’t lock and can be opened from the outside with great, frightening, ease.  For three nights I have set boobie traps along the windows so that if anyone were to mess with them, I would hear it before they got very far.  Today, though, I am nipping this crazy sh!* in the bud.  I’m painting the damn things shut and I am getting little cafe curtains to provide me some privacy - and sanity. 

Have I really become a helpless woman who can’t feel safe without her big strong man in the house.  Puke.  Puke puke puke.


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“I never forget a face. But, in your case, I’ll make an exception.”

Today is Groucho Marx’s birthday.  Take a minute and reminisce. 

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Food Poisoning 101

I had my first experience being the parent of a kid with food poisoning yesterday, thanks to Sonic.  Against my better judgement and my usual disregard for fast food of any sort, I found myself in a bind yesterday - we were counting on eating lunch at the birthday party we had just attended but pizza was served and, somehow, my son hates pizza like most kids hate brussel sprouts- so we swung by and let the boy pick anything he wanted.  Anything.  He picked a corndog.  Apparently, and I’m only taking a wild guess here, but the evil cornbread coated weenie was the culprit.  By 10pm that night the poor kid was projectile-ing anything and everything he had eaten in the last ten hours - all over the bathroom, kitchen and, of course, not his bed but our bed.  I felt so bad for him.  In between blows, he would look up and say “do ya think the cake made me sick?”.. “do you think it was the corndog??”.. “do you think it was the roller skating???”…  He had gone to his very first roller skating party and I think the sweet darling thought that he was having delayed motion sickness - but I had my money on the greasy stick injected meat composite.  He was a real trooper throughout the whole thing - I even had to stop him from helping me clean up the floor.  It was pretty upsetting for him, I think. 

With the flu there is significant warning to any horrific vomiting episodes that might occur.  The sweats, the chills, the fever - all good indicators that things aren’t right.  Food poisoning, though, creeps up on you.  I tucked him in, kissed him good night and entirely out of nowhere he starts groaning like a collapsing steel bridge and when I suggest he take some time in the rest room we are, within seconds, all covered in - well, you get the picture.  I can’t even say that I have ever had food poisoning (knock wood, knock wood)… My husband has - actually had to rush to the hospital for dehydration.  Awful.

So, I just let him take it easy today.  I didn’t force food on him though, by the end of the day, I was being a little pushier than this morning.  I had realized that he didn’t want to eat because he was scared he would throw up again - not because he wasn’t hungry.  I’m quite certain, judging by his requests for dessert tonight, that he is feeling much better.  Just thought I’d share.   Aren’t you glad.  Nothing like a good food poisoning story. 

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