More Things You Shouldn't Say...

To a perimenopausal woman with pms who has run out of Lexapro:

"Well Ma'am, you really should order them before you run out. I don't think we'll be able to get your prescription taken care of until after the weekend."

"I know the recording SAID they'd be ready after six p.m. last night, but it still takes 24-48 hours to process the prescription."

"Like I said, you really SHOULD order them before you run out."



Oh, and these gems should be avoided as well:

"We're out of coffee"

"You made it last. How did you NOT KNOW we were out of coffee? "

"Why are you crying?"



And depending on how you say them, these are no good either:

"Hi!", "Hello!", "How's the job search going?", "Can I have a drink of water?"

Just f.y.i.

This public service message has been brought to you by the crazy ass bitch who lives in my body until Monday.

You're welcome.

Pet Peeves, Part Deux

I put that in French, because I am a snob. An UnAmerican, Culture Loving SNOB.

I don't watch reality tv. (Except for The Biggest Loser which I got kind of hooked into and it made me cry).

I only listen to NPR on the radio.

And I have had it UP TO HERE already with the f#$in' FIREWORKS.

It's not even the Fourth! It's been going on for a week here, because it's legal the week before the 4th, and my neighbors like things to blow up GOOD.

So it's like a war zone here. I swore last year that we'd be gone this week, but because we have a vacation coming up soon after, we are here, with our helmets on and buckets of water at the ready.

I feel like such a dork - my neighbors all love this stuff. Every other time of the year, I feel so grateful to have the neighbors I have, but this time of year, I just feel so out of place. They spend literally hundreds of dollars to light it on fire and listen to it go boom. If it were just for one night, I might love it too. But DEAR SWEET JESUS IN HEAVEN - EVERY DAY AND NIGHT FOR A WEEK? I think they do it to try to send us back to California. I have news for you - WE'RE NOT GOING. We live here now, and watch out, because we will find others like us, and we will change these stupid laws that let people blow shit up for days and nights on end.

I am such a pussy. But luckily, the rest of my family is too. Joe-Henry said tonight as he was trying so hard to go to sleep, "Fireworks just steal PEACE!"

The thing is, I LOVE the real stuff that happens on the 4th. I love the big, beautiful community fireworks and the giant ones that don't make any sound and then do that huge BOOM that you feel in your stomach. Those make me "oooooooh" and "aaaaaaahhhhh" with the rest of the patriotic goofballs that think that once a year dressing in red white and blue will make up for the fact that we're not paying attention to what's going on in our country.

I even like sparklers, and I had lots of fireworks as a kid. I loved them, and I hope that Joe-Henry will too. I don't want him to be a grumpy old man before, say, age eight. But if he's too tired to stay up on the 4th because he hasn't been able to get to sleep before 11:00 p.m. for a week because every goddamn whistling pete ever made is going off right outside his window every goddamn night, I am going to be one angry mama.

Like I'm not already. And yes, I STILL have pms.

Can you tell?

I've misplaced my brain.

It is only three days into summer vacation, and I am wondering how many days are left.

My brain cells are being eaten by pms and a six year old. Heellllpppp meeeeeee.

Costco madness and shopping for shoes from Good Will

I just got back from Costco, and I was in a pissy mood because a) Costco makes me bat-shit crazy with the slow people who park their carts right at the beginning of the aisle so they can sample the tasty morsels or hold bookclub discussions over "The Secret" in the book section. Here's a "secret" for ya - get your head out of your ass and move your cart because you're blocking this aisle, b) we were parked right next to a car that had bumper stickers that said "Marriage = One Man and One Woman" as well as "Protect Teen Girls" (clearly SOMEONE isn't getting any and doesn't want anyone else to have any fun either), and c) I'm a perimenopausal woman with pms. Not that you could tell or anything. So I thought to combat all this negativity I was feeling I could write about a really wonderful, nice thing that happened the other day when Joe-Henry and I were shoe shopping.

I've mentioned before that Joe-Henry was born with a pretty rare syndrome called Klippel-Trenaunay. We are fall-on-our-knees grateful that his particular involvement is so far, very minor. But one of the slightly annoying things about it (and believe me, I'll take annoying over painful and life-threatening anyday) is that it's really hard to find shoes that fit. But aside from a few thoughtless shoe salespeople, most everyone who has helped us has gone out of their way to find something to fit Joe-Henry's sweet, meaty feet. There was Jack at Harry Harris Shoes for kids in LA. Jack reminded me of the character William H. Macy played in Door to Door. Jack had kind of a lateral lisp, bad eyesight, and the sunniest disposition on the planet. He would always, always find shoes that Joe-Henry was proud to wear, and would even call us when they got a new shipment. Plus they gave out balloons that lasted longer than the shoes. Jack almost cried when I told him we were moving to another state. He and Joe-Henry were buddies, and I think that finding the right fit for Joe-Henry might have been right up there with the best part of his job. There was the lovely woman at Nordstroms, who gave us a call when they got in a shipment of extra wides. And now there is my new sweetie Will at the Pioneer Place New Balance store. Will is young enough to be my son, I don't even know if he needs to shave yet, but he is just about the oldest soul around. He's helped us twice now, and he always finds something that fits well, and more importantly than that, he always makes Joe-Henry feel great.

Kindness. Goodness. Writing about it almost makes me feel more forgiving for the slow-boaters at Costco. But not the bumper-sticker people. They're had still better stay out of my way.