Movin' on up

I hate moving. I think for the first thirteen years of our marriage, Shawn and I moved every single year. And except for one glorious summer when Shawn got out of the Navy and Uncle Sam sent over a moving company, we did it all by ourselves. Just us, a borrowed truck and any of our friends who would work for beer (back then, there wasn't a shortage). These days, I doubt I could find one person. Lately, we've had to deal with Shana and all of her paraphernalia. We've U-Hauled up and down the I-10 five times so far. Now, needing to vacate her apartment after only one semester, I was dreading it, still sort of tired from the August trip. I reserved a truck. I decided to let Shawn off the hook and made Shana promise that she would round up some strong guys to do the loading. She agreed. Then realized, after loaning out a sofa and a dining room table, all she really needed that wouldn't fit in her car was her bed. She found a friend with a truck and, along with her adorable Junior Prom date plus, surprise, surprise, her first BF, they showed up with a mattress, box springs, headboard, mirror, two nightstands and lots of fun catch-up stories about how they've all been doing while I was warm and pain-free in my house. I loaded them up with cash and chocolate and waved as they drove off. Probably to buy some beer.

Takes Two To Tango

Can't we all just get along? Look...B and B, actually touching. Passing bills. Speaking to one another. Pissing off everybody along the way. Good for them. Now on to Don't Ask Don't Tell, the DREAM Act, the START Treaty - all in just a couple of days. Just think of what could happen if they worked like this all the time.

Jazzy

What do you do when you've got two jazzy birthday Divas that can't sit still? Meet the gang at Bobby's for some wine, women, song, a couple of funny hats,

some Mad Housewife hooch, a cute, non-bathing suited Dr. Murray even showed up along with bday chicks Ronnie and Cathy, surrounded by DD Leslie, pink-coated Jilly-B and the ever-so-funny, Jaye, for a cold, wintery toast followed by a walk through the tinsel-towned Kierland Main Street. Happy, happy.

Oh Fudge

I'm afraid to ask, but how many Weight Watchers PointsPlus are in fudge? Maybe two pieces. Two and a half? Probably a thousand. I worked really hard last week to lose a couple of pounds, to stick with the plan, to prepare for this week, give myself a little cushion for the parties, the happy hours, the book club, the shopping with friends, the corn dogs at the mall food court, the fudge. My God, the fudge. So stepped on the scale this am and was right back up, all that effort gone. Now all I have to look forward to is the look on the WW lady's face Saturday morning. Will she scowl at me? Or smile? No more fudge, bring on the oranges. Smile at me, lady, smile.

and now for the weather...

There's something wrong with 80 degrees in December. It's fun for a day or so, especially when the rest of the country is getting pounded by snow. Talked to NY sis yesterday and she was "working from home" all day. Ten degrees in New York, who could blame her. So today - low 60s, cloudy, maybe some rain. No more flip flops, sweater weather here we come,

now, back to you Bob...

Book Club - One Touch of Scandal

Little Baby Jesus.

Cecily must have been cold up there running the Grand Canyon and picked One Touch of Scandal to give us all a little heat. Throw in Little Baby Jesus, a cookie exchange, a white elephant gift, a holiday poem and you've got December Book Club as the gang gathered in her stunning home, all wrapped and tied up with a big red bow, full of sweet treats, sipping Champagne through fancy candy cane straws, passing and trading and hiding the crazy gifts, collecting all of the homemade goodies to pack on some holiday pounds and watching Little Baby Jesus weave in and out of our hands, giving us a chance to say thanks, say glad you're back, say it's been a tough year, but it would have been worse without the book club, say you fit in no matter what, say we're lucky, lucky, lucky to make our own family, to have this history nobody can take away, nobody new can come in, nobody else can understand, say you fill up my life, you fill in the dash. Ho Ho Ho.

A few poems from the Divas...

What do a Priest and a Christmas tree have in common?
The balls are for decoration only!

Tis the season for holiday blessings
Can't zip my pants after all of that dressing
I filled my stockings with fudge packed thighs
Consumed in full after I got high
No date no man
No internet tease
Alone in bed
Only dildo to please
Blessed with friends that I hold dear
Better off than Santa
Who only comes once a year

I don’t need no fancy clothes

‘Cause I got friends with style

I don’t need to feel too sad

‘Cause my friends make me smile

I don’t need to think too much

‘Cause my friends are so wise

I don’t need to come in first

‘Cause my friends are my prize

I don’t need no fancy toys

‘Cause I got friends who share

 I don’t need to feel afraid

‘Cause I got friends who care

 But I do need Christmas cheer

And I know where it’s hiding

 Here with soul mate sister friends

To you I give great tidings!

 

 

There was a young Lass from the Valley

With husbands to many to tally

She'd wed 'em and bed 'em

Until she could shed 'em

And bid them adieu in the alley

There once was a Christmas Diva
Who looked like the Queen of Sheba
Her life was quite snappy
And she was so happy
Til that fateful day
When the king took her away
And now she feels really crappy

If I were 'ol Santa, you know what I'd do
I'd dump all the silly gifts given to you
And deliver some things just inside your front door
Things you have lost, but treasured before
I'd give you back all your maidenly vigor
And to go along with it, a neat tiny figure
Then restore the old color that once graced your hair
Before rinses and bleaches took residence there
I'd bring back the shape with which you were gifted
So things now suspended need not be uplifted
I'd draw in your tummy and smooth all the cracks
Til you'd be a dream in those tight fitting slacks
I'd remove all your wrinkles and leave only one chin
So you wouldn't spend hours rubbing grease on your skin
You'd never have flashes or queer dizzy spells
And you wouldn't hear noises like ringing of bells
No sore feet and no corns on your toes
No searching for spectacles tight on your nose
Not a shot would you take in the you arm, hip or fanny
From a doctor who thinks you're a nervous old granny
You'd never have headaches, no pills would you take
No heating pad needed since muscles won't ache
Yes, if I were Santa, you'd never look stupid
You'd be one cute chick with the romance of Cupid
I'd give you a lift when the wolves start to whistle
The joys of your heart would be light as a thistle
But alas! I'm not Santa. I'm simply just me
The matronest of matrons you ever did see
I wish I could tell all the symptoms I've got
But I'm due at my doctor's for an estrogen shot.
Even though we've grown older this wish is sincere
Merry Christmas to you and a Happy New Year

Why did the snowman have a smile on his face?
Because the snowblower was coming down the block.


(in progress)
I sit and think of Christmas past
The long and short shadows cast
Of wishes granted but mostly dashed
A
The small treasures I've amassed
blast
fast
last
vast

Hold on to the good

Merry ?? Christmas

Merry    F#@&* n’   Christmas

And Kumba f#@&*n’ ya

Keep your saints and Angels

And your Hallelujahs’

Enough of phony photos

Of Happy family travels

We’re all baking cookies

While the crazy world unravels

Unemployment, deficits…

Afganistan, Korea

Politicians’ verbal crap

And Haiti’s diarrhea

No Matter how hard Santa tries

To be the guy that pleases

Don’t be fooled – BAD tidings rule

God save us Baby Jesus!

 

 

Veronica y Pilar

Shana has a new mommy, Pilar. And a new sister, Veronica. There they are. They live in Alcala, Spain. Along with new daddy, Jesus. They will be taking care of her. Feeding her. Spending all of that time with her, while I'm here in the desert, kidless. Too much to take. Booked flight today. 2/2/11 - Phx to Madrid.

Red Light, Green Light

I'm not very festive. I've never really understood the whole Christmas thing. So, there was a Jewish guy that was killed, then came back to life - voila! - in order to forgive all our sins, so we need to string up lights, chop down trees and max out the Visa card in order to celebrate his birthday (which really wasn't on 12/25). Right? Lately the pressure in my neighborhood has become so great, the decorations just keep getting bigger and bigger that I gave in and bought some party lights at Home Depot. I put one red and one green in the front and the same on the side. That looked stupid. Too Dr. Seuss. So I went all red in the front and all green on the side. Now the front looks like a brothel. Sort of seedy. Sort of cranky house on the street. Perfect.

Bah Humbug.

Small, Beautifully Moving Parts

Great film-to-be, Small, Beautifully Moving Parts is getting close to completion! Producers, writers and directors, Annie and Lisa, are amazing. They work hard. They are funny and smart and clever and so incredibly talented. And they need some cash to finish up. Hitting it big gets pricey. So, watch what they've got so far, pass it on, give what you can...

Dirty Little Secrets

I don't want anybody to know all of my secrets, but when wars could be prevented, lives could be saved, maybe a little Wiki Wiki "he said, she said" isn't such a bad idea.

Here, read this...
Michael Moore