i heart mimi

There are some rules in life. Rules we all should observe.

Unless a naked, vernix-covered infant is shooting from the hoo-hoo of a large-bellied woman as she simultaneously screams for drugs and twists off her husband’s lovesack, you should never NEVER never ask a woman if she’s pregnant. Because she won’t be. She’ll just be fat and you’ll be an ass.

The same holds true with personal questions at holiday dinner. Just don’t do it. Because nobody likes to be the focus of inquiries about income, failed relationships, or bad real estate purchases. It’s just uncomfortable. And I know this because every Thanksgiving, my father-in-law piles up his plate with deviled eggs and pie, and then starts asking questions. And everyone’s ears perk up, knowing it’s about to get super awkward.

Just. Don’t. Doit.

Instead, talk about the weather. Or how much the Cubs suck. Or hell … if you’re desperate, disparage the relative that was too pissy or snotty or broke to show up. But don’t gang up on your own.

And while I’m on the topic of things you shouldn’t do because it’s just bad taste, take this advice to heart. Don’t wear white before Memorial Day or after Labor Day. No matter what modern fashion magazines say, it’s tacky.

And don’t get a tramp stamp. Because once you have one, every time you bend over to pick up your kid or tie your shoes, people will see it and think less of you. Even if it’s supposedly the Chinese symbol for serenity. It’s not. It’s the American symbol for “We’re in.”

I understand that it appears I’m sitting in judgment, but I’m just trying to help you. I have my own set of very special issues, the least of which begins with some bacon and ends with two or three shots of vodka. But Miss Manners would surely agree with my stance on the above-mentioned scenarios; I’m simply putting a modern-day spin on the delivery of age-old wisdom.

If you want to make someone’s day, compliment their outfit (unless they’re wearing white in March), or their smile. Tell them something you appreciate about them. I was recently told by a complete stranger that I had beautiful skin. Which was a lovely thing to hear.

And I can’t tell you how happy I was that she didn’t pat my mid-section and ask when my cupcakes are due.

3 Comments | In: My Unsolicited Opinion | tags: Ass, Awkward questions, Chinese symbol for serenity, Cupcakes, Deviled eggs, Family, Father-in-law, Hoo-hoo, Husband, Judgment, Labor Day, Lovesack, Memorial Day, Miss Manners, Pregnant, Rules, Tacky, Tramp stamp, Twinkie, Vernix, Vodka, Wisdom. | #

I’m a pro at putting my foot in my mouth. I just say what pops into my head.

Last week, we had a visitor. I walked in the house from work, and the first thing I said was, “What’s that HORRIBLE SMELL? Someone take out the trash. It smells like CRAP in here!”

Yep.

Probably because our guest had just been in the bathroom. Crapping.

I can’t help it. I’m the girl that says out loud the thing everyone else is thinking. It’s a quality about myself that I rather dislike, but it’s part of who I am. And it makes people laugh.

I never intend, however, to embarrass anyone, and I feel bad that this time I did. Our guest played it off well. So did my husband. It wasn’t until later that he told me — while laughing hysterically — that I had just called out the pooper.

And it’s not the first time I have done that. At Thanksgiving one year, I walked into to the living room and loudly asked, “Who FARTED?”

Nobody. It was bathroom float. From my very prim and proper aunt.

I suck.

But I’m funny. That’s what the voices in my head tell me, anyway.

No Comments | In: My Unsolicited Opinion | tags: Crap, Embarrass, Fart, Foot in mouth, Funny, Laugh, Poop, Thanksgiving, Who farted?. | #

My employer was kind enough to give us a half-day off today, so I was able to have lunch with five of my favorite ladies — my husband’s mom, aunt, cousin, and sister, and my mom. I love girls-only lunches!

On my way home, I stopped in at a little thrift store I’ve been wanting to check out. I walked in, turned left, and saw it.

This vintage Bantam suitcase was misfiled in the dishware section, all ready to go home with me. It’s late 60s/early 70s, and could not be in better condition. I thought for two seconds about putting it on my Etsy store, but then decided it will make a perfect overnight bag for my little one. She is a stylish girl, after all. Or maybe I’ll use it as a skate case. I think everything will fit.

It didn’t have a price tag. Of course. I have a knack for picking the tag-less item. At the register, the disinterested cashier looked at the suitcase, rolled her eyes, and gave it to me for $1.99. That works.

Very good Friday.

1 Comment | In: My Unsolicited Opinion | tags: $1.99, Bantam suitcase, Bantam Travelware Div of Peter's Bag Corp Bronx NY 10456 Made in Japan, Good Friday, Skate case, Thrift store, Vintage. | #

Last night, I changed out the wheels on my skates and took to the trail for some exercise. I took along my phone, my flip-flops, and my husband. He rode his bike with me while I skated, first as my pace car, and then my videographer. (For the record, I don’t recommend operating a video camera while riding a bike. Danger!)

The video he took was from behind, and let me just say now that nobody will ever see it. Ugh. My butt is a planet.

I don’t fall much at derby practice. I’m a decent enough skater that I just usually stay on my feet. Last night, I fell on my ghetto booty in the first three minutes. In front of a car full of teenagers, who died laughing. Oh well.

Once I conquered the sidewalk cracks, which tend to heave after a cold Midwest winter, I hit the smoother terrain of the trail, and it went pretty well. Until I hit that rock and did the worst stop, drop, and roll ever.

But overall it was a good experience. I have two new bruises. And one scrape on my leg. Oh, and my shoulder hurts a little. But that’s kind of the point. No pain, no gain, right?

The scariest part was feeling like I was a little out of control on downward slopes. Here’s a mental image. You take a panda bear. You put it on skates. Then you put in its path three or four other innocent panda bears that just want to enjoy the beautiful weather, but soon see that the skater panda is coming straight for them, so they must scream and dive out of her path. There is bloodshed. And crying. Skater panda wins.

OK. That was a lie. I didn’t actually collide with anyone. But I do look like a panda on skates. And I mean like Kung Fu Panda before he became all kung-fooey.

I did have the good sense to wear my safety gear, which is why I still have skin. I saw a handful of skaters in nothing but tank tops, shorts and skates. Not on your life. I enjoy not being covered in road rash.

Trail skating may take precedence over bike riding for me. Yes, it’s scary and stopping could be an issue. But I’m still feeling the workout today, and in places I want to work. My abdomen and butt felt the burn!

I will still mountain bike with my brother, however. How could I possibly give up the thrill of seeing him laugh hysterically when I fly over my handlebars and slam into a tree? It’s his favorite thing ever. I would never take that away from him.

I’m glad I joined a derby team. Despite the fact that my friend, who I encouraged to try derby, broke her leg in three places on Monday at practice and is having pins surgically inserted into her ankle tomorrow pretty much so her foot won’t fall off. Bad.

Nonetheless, I will do it as long as I’m able. It’s the funnest sport I’ve ever done, and clearly I can’t stop talking about it.

I’m a derby girl.

1 Comment | In: My Unsolicited Opinion | tags: Danger, Ghetto booty, Kung Fu Panda, Mountain bike, Pace car, Roller derby, Trail skating. | #

I love my kids. All three of them are generous and talented, and most important, quirky. They’re just weird birds that don’t follow the pack and like to figure things out on their own. Which I love about them.

I have unique relationships with each of them. There’s a bit of an eggshell aspect to my relationship with my oldest — I’ve come to the conclusion that he thinks I disapprove of his life (which I don’t), so he keeps me at arm’s length. I try hard to not come off as judgmental when I talk with him, yet still try to guide him when he asks for advice.

My youngest is still at that age where it’s about 60 percent parenting and 40 percent friendship. I have to issue the smackdown quite often so she won’t grow up to be a hooker (which I only say because she started doing a pole dance on a clothing rack at Target on Sunday), but we do spend a lot of time snuggling together in chairs with books, or painting, or watching movies. And we hold hands — fingers entwined — everywhere we go. She’s my right-hand girl. Also, I’m so much better at raising girls than boys (sorry, Son).

I’ve given all this backstory so that I can write about my middle child.

See, I share no DNA with this young woman, but we could not be more alike. We are friends. We are like-minded. And I am 100 percent comfortable talking with her about pretty much anything. And believe me, nothing is taboo. Sex, poop, reality TV. Our conversations run the gamut. No topic is too gross or embarrassing for us to touch. We’re caddy.

So yesterday, I called her to discuss a topic that makes her a little defensive. I was not exerting authority (or even being a bitch), but I was offering unsolicited advice. And clearly she did not want my advice. I know this because she hung up on me.

Gasp.

Now this is where the wires get a little crossed. She later said that her phone was cutting out and she thought it better to hang up than try to yell so I could hear her. (I still think she was doing the old “crinkle the paper by the phone” trick that we all learned from Corporal Klinger on M*A*S*H.) No matter, her logic sounds reasonable. And I have no reason to doubt her.

But still. A follow-up text saying, “Sorry I hung up … bad reception” would have made me not cry in my car.

Yeah, I’m a baby. In my defense, I was on the cusp of illness and had already cried four times that day. Sick makes me cry.

But I’m not going to lie. It did hurt my feelings. And I did send her a text telling her it hurt my feelings.

I could have let it go, not said anything. But I decided to tell her because I don’t want our relationship to be punctuated with awkward silences and unspoken feelings. I have always, always told her she can say anything to me. And I think it’s a sign of respect toward her to tell her how I’m perceiving something.

So I texted her. She said she was sorry. And now it’s over.

I’m writing about it because it is a testament to the kind of relationship I have with her. We love each other. We talk about things. We forgive.

I wish all of my relationships were that straightforward and mature. They’re not. But I’m working on owning my feelings (Psychobabble 101) and learning to accept people for who they are and what they have to give. Which sometimes isn’t what I want them to give.

In those times when I want more, I either need to accept that I can’t have it, or ask for it. And don’t even ask me what the hell “it” is … that depends on the person. I have many close and cherished friends and family members. My point is that I need to put the responsibility back on myself if I’m not getting what I want out of a relationship.

And decide whether it would be better to ask for more, or to accept that I can’t get what I want and decide what to do from there.

I know. I’m blowing your mind right now. I swear I didn’t smoke dope before I wrote this.

But I did see my shrink this week, and he makes me think about personal responsibility. And encourages me to have a backup plan for when I feel let down by others.

So there you have it. I talked about my feelings.

Where’s my cookie?

2 Comments | In: My Unsolicited Opinion | tags: Daughter, Family, Feelings, Friends, Parenting, Psychobabble, Psychobabble 101, Shrink, Son, Talking, Therapy. | #

At roller derby practice tonight, our team captains sprung a skills assessment on the newbies. Time to see if all this practice is paying off.

I did this assessment several weeks ago, right after I started working out with the team. My performance was abysmal, and I was hoping tonight would be much more rewarding.

It started out poorly, when we were asked to do stops and falls, neither of which I’m great at. I can do a 180 spin on my feet and stop backward using my toe stops. But that’s not what they want. They teach us safe stops, and I’m just not good at them. I will keep practicing. They also want us to fall gracefully and safely. But since my main goal every time I put on my skates is to remain upright, I have trouble buying into the ‘throw yourself to the ground now’ theory. It just seems counterproductive. But I suppose it’s good to know how much it’s going to hurt when three girls plow you over, so fall I will.

The surprise of the evening was a drill I knew I would have to pass, but did not know I would be tested on this evening. To be allowed to play with the team (rather than just work on skills at practice and sell t-shirts at bouts), I have to skate 25 laps in five minutes. Yeah.

Back when I first read about this, I got out my calculator and determined that I would have to skate an average of one lap every 12 seconds to pass.

No way. My body is like dough in motion. Not even possible.

When we prepared tonight, they just told us to try and skate at 80-percent of our best. If we felt too winded after two minutes, we were probably skating too fast and would exhaust before finishing. Thankfully, one of the vets was skating with us, and her presence made me feel very calm. I started nice and easy, found some rhythm with the music, and put my head down and gave it my all. At 2:15 I was thinking, I might not make my laps, but I’ll be able to finish. That’s my goal today. Do not quit. As I continued to skate, I found I could get a lot of speed on the straightaways, and cruise the curves. It was working well. I found a zone and stayed there until the end. I lost count after 10 laps, and at the end was expecting to hear that I hit 16 or so.

My counter looked at me with a sad little frown and said “… 22 …”

WHAT? 22 out of 25 laps in five minutes?

Um. That’s fantastic. And far exceeds what I thought I could do.

As I was leaving, a couple of the testers said to me that they were going to pass me on endurance because I was so close. And I told them that I would prefer to not be passed until I make the actual goal. It wouldn’t be as satisfying to know that I almost did it, and someone did me a favor. Nope. I want this to be 100 percent determination and sweat and self respect. I love that my body is throbbing in pain and my knees keep buckling. Had I not skated 22 laps tonight, I would not be sitting here with ice packs on my joints as I type. This pain is good.

I’m stronger. I’m more flexible. My jeans size is going down. I have confidence. I am becoming a strategic thinker. I am making friends.

Thanks, roller derby.

4 Comments | In: My Unsolicited Opinion | tags: Falling, Knees, Laps, Pain, Roller derby, Self-respect, Skating, Stopping. | #

I can’t stop watching the show American Pickers on the History Channel. It centers around these two guys — Mike and Frank — that make a living rifling through the “accumulated treasures” (junk piles) of “collectors” (hoarders) across the Midwest. They spend their days in barns, basements and garages looking for items to buy, so they can then clean them up and sell them in their antiques store.

What a life.

Maybe it’s my love for kitsch. Or my craving for a job devoid of a desk and computer. But I think this would be the coolest way to make a living. Granted, these guys spend a large portion of their workday driving from town to town — and they often do their picking in very rural locations. They have to work to gain the trust of collectors so they can gain access to the goods, which is often not easy. They just never know who’s going to answer the door.

But once they’re in, the fun begins. Mike and Frank look for everything from old advertising signs and movie posters to vintage cars and tin toys. They both have a keen eye for unusual items, and find good luck by following gut instinct. They haggle, they laugh, they smile a lot. They also meet some very colorful people, and get to pick through physical memories from people’s lives, often while listening to very personal stories from the lives of strangers.

Sign me up.

Aside from my dream of owning and operating a Tropical Snow cart in a Dollar General parking lot, I can think of no cooler job. Sure, I would love to write for some big magazine or publish a book, but … desk job. I want to work outside. I want to see open road in front of me, and green pastures to the right and left. I want to commune with Elmer’s shed, explore the nooks and crannies of an 1800s opera house, and dig through mud until I find pearls.

I’m planning to visit Mike and Frank’s store — Antique Archaeology — this summer, where I will keep my eyes open for items I’ve seen them salvage on the show. That vintage jukebox. The 1920s soda fountain. The old advertising signs Frank gravitates to because of their interesting graphics and bold colors. I totally agree with his every purchase.

Watching the show has renewed my desire to get rid of the matchy-match furnishings in my house and start finding conversation pieces. No room should have brown carpeting, brown furniture, and brown walls. It looks like meat. I’m looking for a wood mantle to make into a unique headboard for my daughter’s bed. I plan to paint her walls chartreuse. No pink allowed.

I’m so pleased American Pickers, and other antiques brokers, cherish and pass on the treasures of yesterday. Sure, they’re in it to make money and the markup is sometimes laughable. But a home should not be furnished in a weekend, from one store. It should be painstakingly planned, and created from lucky finds in auction houses, Grandma’s basement, even Goodwill (I swear, it’s worth the time). It should be made personal by finding a unique way to use an item. It should be a reflection of the owner’s passions.

Happy homemaking!

1 Comment | In: My Unsolicited Opinion | tags: American Pickers, antique, antiques, collection, collector, decorating, hoarder, home, junk pile, Passion. | #

I turned 39 today.

Normally, I don’t give much thought to birthdays. Just another day. Truly.

But this year is a little different. 40 is coming. My carefree 30s are about to end. And I feel like I need to do something this year.

After much thought, I decided I’m going to make this a year of trying new things. And I don’t mean taste-testing grubs or skydiving. I really mean just stepping away from the status quo and trying to do some things differently.

I’m aiming for a new “thing” every week. We’ll see how that goes. Usually, time and circumstance don’t allow for much more than: get up, go to work, go home, take care of kid/house/hubs, go to bed. So squeezing in time for extras is hard. But I have a few things on a list, and I’ll write about them as I conquer them.

Now I shall recap the happiest moments of this birthday:

• My beautiful youngest daughter stirred when I went in to cover her up at 6 a.m., and her first words were, “Mommy, you’re 39. I love you.”
• My husband presented me with a perfect on-the-go breakfast of turkey sausages and Diet Coke.
• I arrived at work, and on my desk sat a pan of Rice Krispies treats and new red pens, gifts from my best friend.
• My parents, who I was missing very much, called me from the warm hug of Arizona to sing to me via cellphone.
• A huge bouquet of spring flowers arrived mid-morning, sent by my husband.
• I enjoyed lunch with my big brother (he paid — even better!) and my best friend.
• I got to take a cat nap after work while my husband held down the fort.
• I went shopping for jeans and found two pairs that fit perfectly and were on sale!
• I was presented with a lovely lemon cake with whipped topping frosting, and my husband sang to me while my daughter played the harmonica.
• I made a real wish when I blew out my candles, one that I’m pretty sure will come true in the next 12 months.


It was a good day.


No Comments | In: My Unsolicited Opinion | tags: 39, Best friend, Birthday, Brother, Candles, Daughter, Family, Husband, Jeans, Lemon cake, Wish. | #