Just when I thought everything was going smooth the universe made the executive decision to throw a wrench into my peace. Does everyone agree that Lisa appears to be content? Good, bring in the wrench, please. On second thought, make it a double.
It’s been 6 months since I was blindsided, and the universe has been somewhat kind, but recently it has decided to shake things up a bit. As if watching the News wasn’t enough.
My son decided to move out of his apartment and back HOME. The problem with this big fat wrench is he didn’t come alone. He brought his endless appetite, wash, sneakers the size of Pennsylvania and a school project that entails constructing something that has now taken over my entire house. Remember the movie The Blob? It’s like that over here.
My nature is very easy peasy. Little things like gigantic sneakers and piles of wash have never bothered me before, well, maybe not never. But, certainly not at the level of wanting to set the house on fire to make them go away. This is the result of holding in an emotional fart.
Clearly, there are some underlining things going on with me to stir up this level of emotion, and now you lucky readers who were drawn in my clever title get to read about it. Sorry, not sorry.
Although my life keeps moving forward one snail slide at a time, and the memories start to fade, they don’t leave, they linger. Like the crowd you see at Starbucks sucking up the free wi-fi ALL DAY.
The problems I’m facing now are the reminders. Not the “don’t forget we need milk” kind, the “my therapist would like you to come in next week” kind. It is the equivalent of being shot out of a cannon right back to October 12th. Why can’t I take a cannonball ride back to 1974 when I was free of concerns, other than the daunting decision to ride my bike or play jump rope?
In some ways, it’s good to go so I can get a feel as to what’s going on inside my man’s head. In other ways, it drains me for days. Literally paralyzing me from doing what I enjoy. I don’t read, write or go to the gym. I find myself stuck in a cloud of never ending thoughts. In my head, it’s like trying to figure out a math equation that has multiple answers. I HATE MATH!
Of course, I know it’s all part of the process, and that the process is the best thing for everyone and that it’s working, but for god sakes, it’s a lot to deal with when you’re just trying to deal period. Hence the thought that FIRE would be the way to go with ridding my house of clutter.
At this point in my life, I think it’s safe to say that the universe shops at Sears and there is just an obvious endless sale on Craftsman wrench sets, so I need to take responsibility, tighten my helmet, fasten my seatbelt and just … Enjoy the Ride! One long speed bump at a time.
Just a little update to let the world know that yes, Peanut and Landon have been accepted to Camp Bow Wow! I know, I’m still in awe at their success.
As you can see during their interview they clearly nailed it. Just look at those wagging tails working the room like they own the damn place.
I was able to witness everything through my Camp Cam App. I think I missed my calling. The level of enjoyment I received stalking my dogs was alarming at best. Surveillance engineer or stalker … that line is very thin.
After some initial formalities of the meet and greet portion of their interview, Peanut & Landon were taken to socialize with the other members. I’ll assume this is where business cards and bones were exchanged.
I know what you’re thinking, “everyone gets in Lisa, it’s a game.” I’m not going to lie, this did cross my mind. Part of me thought I was being forced to jump through hoops in order to make me believe my fur babies were extra special, but then I witnessed Bella, the 6-pound chihuahua mix shaking like a leaf in her Burberry knockoff coat as her owner told her “you flunked” while he was handed her rejection notice. Oh yea, right in front of us.
For the record, Bella seemed quite pleased with this outcome, however, her owner was now forced to continue making Martinis for her all day. I’m guessing she likes them dirty at night.
It was all good at the end of the day. Peanut proudly received his acceptance notification as he posed for the camera, knowing full well this beauty would be on display for the world to see on the refrigerator a/k/a … the box of honor.
Landon on the other hand …….
Something tells us he was “accepted” because siblings are an automatic admission.
It doesn’t matter if you’re shaking like Bella, smiling like Peanut or winging it like Landon just make sure you … Enjoy the Ride!
Whether you believe in reincarnation or not I’m sure there has been a moment in your life when you thought “wow, I would love to come back as _________.” I have on more than one occasion.
I always imagined coming back as an animal, well, because they are just so much better people. Nothing but unconditional love.
I’m thinking something domesticated, nothing that prowls around in the jungle. That life seems a little tense.
Honestly, I’m not into looking over my shoulder on a daily basis because of a big bad co-animal looking for a snack or some bored rich guy looking for a new rug … OH HELL TO THE NO!
Being a bird might be cool, but I’m not a big fan of heights, or a world where clean windows are potential death traps. Although leaving my mark on the windshields of the world while laughing from a nearby tree does sound inviting. Hmm … maybe.
Then I thought perhaps I could be a peacock, a flamingo or one of those other birds that have wings just for show. Everyone admires them for their good looks and pities them for their inability to fly. Hmm, sounds like the Kim K of the bird world … no thanks.
Looks like I’m a house pet kind of girl, however, I want to be placed in a house with someone who loves their pets like I do. Yes, I’m being selective.
Even though I’m deathly allergic to cats, I must say I LOVE their cattitudes. Recently I witnessed a cat walking across a 4 lane road, looking straight ahead as we all screeched, swerved and skidded to avoid killing him. ZERO folks … Z E R O ef’s were given!
He was so badass! He marched up a nearby lawn without even turning to inquire what all the ruckus was about. He already knew people, he already knew.
If I had the pleasure of coming back as a cat, I would insist on being Kate’s cat. Kate, over at Views and Mews, is the Carol Brady of cat moms. She’s purrfect!
I already picked out my parents if I’m lucky enough to come back as a dog. I want gay parents. Like Cam & Mitchel from Modern Family.
I met Richard and Robert when I took Peanut & Landon to the Vet. They were dropping off their daughter dog Bette. I’m 100% certain she is named after Bette Davis.
Bette had luggage including a monogrammed tote that read “The girl that owns this bag has been untouched, she is an original sexy beast.” I was very close to asking if they would consider rescuing a middle-aged woman.
As I sat green with envy, watching Bette sitting next to her tote as if she knew the routine. First the endless kisses. Then the hugs. Next, the reassurance she’ll have a fabulous getaway as she was swept off her paws by the young attendant, and carried to her suite. It was love at first sight for me.
Enjoy the Ride!
All morning I pondered on the question:
At what point did my life turn from waking up on a Saturday morning wondering what exactly did I do last night, to waking up thinking what container am I going to use for a fecal sample? Who am I …. really now?
No doubt there have been thousands of questionable comparisons over the years, but this was literally my first thought of the day. Life is too short people!
The longer I stayed in bed contemplating container options, the weirder it got.
You see, the fecal matter in question was being collected on behalf of my fur balls. That’s right ladies & gents, then I had to transport it, along with the fur balls, to the Vet for examination. Why?
Well, because I recently applied, yes APPLIED, for them to attend a Doggie Daycare and I need to provide evidence that they are indeed the healthy canines I claimed they were on their application. Because applying for colleges wasn’t stressful enough.
This all started because of some upcoming events that will leave my little lumps of love alone for a long stretch of time, and because we are wonderful parents we made the decision to investigate some options that would allow our little guys some outside loving hands and play time while we’re gone. Yes, we are still talking about pets.
After conversations with other pet owners, and the review of endless online accolades, we decided to give Camp Bow Wow the opportunity to care for Peanut & Landon in our absence. Not quite that easy.
My initial inquiry prompted an email with instructions that are equivalent to completing a FASFA application x’s 2. I have a new respect for parents of twins.
Aside from providing normal information such as an emergency contact, I was also required to describe how my guys interact with large dogs, people and disclose if they have ever been exposed to a group of 8 or more dogs. According to my responses I have successfully raised 2 sheltered homeschooled dogs.
Seriously, you do not realize how weird you are with your pets until you see things like “Peanut a/k/a “P” loves people, other animals, and children. He is an all around social butterfly wherever he goes” in your own handwriting.
After submitting the applications, along with their clean bills of health, I was able to schedule their interview. Yes, you did read that correctly …. INTERVIEW.
They are to report to Camp Bow Wow on Friday at 11:00 a.m. where they will be observed for 3 hours while I wait to hear if they’ve been accepted. Maybe there’s a bar nearby …
Personally, Camp Bow Wow should be honored to have my fur babies paws gracing their facility, but that’s the mother in me talking. Meanwhile, I’ll be scheduling an appointment with the Groomer so they look dapper for their big day.
Enjoy the Ride!
I’ve come to the conclusion that extreme anything is just too weird for me. It doesn’t matter what the subject is, I’m basically too lazy to be extreme. Seems like a lot of work.
Last night I popped into the grocery store for a pack of gum before hitting the gym. There is something euphoric about chewing while sweating my ass off that makes the experience a little less horrible. Clearly, I enjoy chewing or I wouldn’t have an ass to sweat off!
I noticed something going on in the line next to me. A crowd had formed. There were three-baggers in place, and I believe smoke coming from the conveyor belt. The only thing missing was paparazzi.
Of course, the Newsy Susie in me had to inquire. Turns out I was about to witness an extreme couponing moment. I confess I have watched the Extreme Couponing show more than once. Because I like to witness insanity at its finest.
Let me just put this on the record. I’m all for using coupons and saving money, however, I am not into math beyond 50% off or buy one get one free, especially while shopping. Nor to I have a bunker to store 5,000 bottles of laundry detergent that I got for 30 cents.
Just listening to the explanation as to how someone would manage to purchase 100 bottles of shampoo for 2 cents is enough to give me a headache. Literally!
So, back to the insanity at register 2. This woman had an entire cart filled with CASES of yogurt, and more waiting to be rung up. Doesn’t yogurt expire?
My bones were getting stronger just looking at that amount of calcium in one spot.
Next on the belt were stacks of Lipton side dishes in a bag. Or shall I say bloat in a bag.
I’m not sure what else she had because I was too busy watching her frantically rummaging through her purse. Oh no! She FORGOT something.
It couldn’t possibly be coupons since there were enough to build that border wall we’ve all been hearing about sitting right in front of the cashier. Who has time for that level of clipping?
I’ll never know, and neither will you because the next thing I heard was “I live right across the street, I’ll be right back.” Followed by deafening SILENCE.
Enjoy the Ride!
Well, well, well look who is celebrating their 5th anniversary with WordPress. Ah, it feels like yesterday.
Last year, in celebration of this glorious milestone, I posted an essay that is sadly more relevant today Weapons of Mass Destruction Have a Face. A big orange face to be exact.
So, here we are, one year later, with the shit literally hitting the fan. Oh, happy day … not.
In just 365 days we went from watching this country’s biggest hit reality show to actually being contestants. I’m just sitting here desperately waiting for this show to be cancelled.
The show, as I like to call it, is “The Opposite.” That’s right folks, we are all participating in a new reality where our host is the opposite of being honest, treating women or anyone else who isn’t white like people, speaking openly, confronting situations directly, having patience, and basically just being a good solid citizen. The Opposite is now leading our path. Where we’re heading has yet to be determined.
In just a little over 30 days our host has brought several teams to the surface.
First, we have Team Merica. The bible thumping flag waving team who wouldn’t know the constitution if it were narrowed down to a bumper sticker, who take pride in naming at least two of the seven dwarfs, yet cannot muster up the name of a single Supreme Court Judge. They believe every alternative fact presented, including, but not limited to, our former president being a member of Isis.
The White Team is a sub group to Team Merica that includes well-intentioned educated folks who for whatever reason cast their vote. Some say it’s because he’s a businessman, others believed that he would “clean the swamp”, but most, in my opinion, did it because they were tired of a Democrat “giving away” everything they earned.
Next, we have Team Resistance. Not hired actors or paid by a 3rd party to participate. They are a feisty group made up of men, women, children, babies & dogs. They are taking to the streets to have their voices heard bearing signs, pussy hats, and passion for all that is good for the greater good. Their voices are speaking out for common human rights for all people. They are demanding answers from their elected officials regarding our planet, our healthcare, our animals, our freedoms, our sanity and OUR COUNTRY.
Then we have Team Oh Fuck. This group really, really, really thought they were doing the right thing when they went to the voting booth to cast a vote for “something different” and now they sit quietly pondering the definition of “different.”
Next up, Hollywood. This crew brings money, glitter, glitz, glamor, a microphone and a stage to spread a message they feel should be heard. This group has members on all of the above teams.
Last but not least we have Wall Street. They bring money, mo’ money and of course, mo’ money, which can easily allow them to rule the world … literally. Just remember folks the lack of a moral compass, a soul, and their cloven hooves will eventually lead to their demise. Hopefully.
So, in just over 30 days since the season premiere of “The Opposite” we’ve certainly been kept on our toes with the daily cliffhangers. What’s next? never sounded more terrifying.
Our new host likes to keep the teams confused. As they wander around questioning whether facts are truth or if lies are now alternative facts, which in our old world were just lies, he is vigorously flushing their tax dollars down the drain on his weekend getaways, our satellite First Lady, and my favorite, the 2017 Feed My Ego Tour a/k/a 2020 campaign rally. What just happened?
While the teams scramble to fact check like Ninjas, desperately trying to determine which news is real, fake or somewhere in between, Executive Orders are being signed sealed and delivered faster than a middle of the night Tweet. Diversion at its finest.
Thing have been tense between the teams. While each team frantically attacks each other via social media outlets, the wool is pulled further over their once bright hopeful eyes. Next stop, slaughterhouse.
Let’s just hope that this show will be cancelled long before the Season Finale scheduled to air November, 2020. Until then, crank up the music and Enjoy the Ride!
past tense: faded; past participle: faded 1. gradually grow faint and disappear.
I know we all meet sorrow in our own way. For me, it’s looking for the silver lining. Much easier said than done, but hope is always doable.
At first, I thought I might have some sort of super powers. Somehow going about my daily routine like a badass. I went to work without missing a beat. I even went out socializing without a care in the world trying my best to squash the memories. Guess what? Even the baddest of asses have their moments.
For over a month now I’ve been trying very hard to kick my sorrow to the curb. I hosted Thanksgiving like a pilgrim! I channeled my inner Martha Stewart to deck the damn halls! I got all gussied up to attend an amazing Christmas party, and I’ve been working out as if I’m being considered for the Olympics! But guess what people? IT DOESN’T WORK!
When the family leaves, the work is done, the sweat is showered off, and I come home, do you know who is waiting? Yep, just like that annoying guest at the party who never seems to realize it’s time to hit the road …. sorrow is there to greet me with open arms. It’s really beginning to be a huge pain in the ass!
I’ve recently come to the conclusion that if sorrow is going to hang around for awhile, I need to do something about it. I think t’s time we become friends or form some sort of relationship. I know it sounds crazy, but I’m tired of fighting this weightlifter of an emotion.
Wait a minute, “friends” might be a little strong, maybe I’ll start with a roomie and work my way up to besties. I’m only human.
So, for now, it looks like I’ll be chillin with sorrow. I’ve set up some free space in my head so he can get cozy. Yes, sorrow is a man …. because I said so.
I must say since he’s been hanging around, I’ve been learning a lesson here and there about myself, so at least he’s earning his keep. If only he cleaned bathrooms.
Who knows next maybe he’ll show me how to be strong as him. Stranger things have happened…look who is our new prez.
Maybe he’ll even wine and dine me as he leads me to that silver lining. Where I can only imagine unicorns are running free.
Better yet … maybe one day I’ll be able to sit by a nice sunny window, sipping a hot cup of coffee, listening to Marvin Gaye while I watch all of this just fade away. Goals!
Enjoy the Ride!
Over the weekend, we took a trip to The Philadelphia Auto Show … why? Well, because sometimes you do things in the name of love. There is a song all about it.
I knew my husband really wanted to go so I made the plans. Feel free to let out a big old awe!
I presented the plans to my husband, whom I thought would be over the moon, however that was not the case. No balloons or confetti to be found!
This is what happened next:
Me: I thought you wanted to go to the car show?
Husband: Yea, I do.
Me: So why do you look as if I just asked you to split an atom?
Husband: Because I can’t believe you want to go.
Me: Well, I really don’t want to go but I’m always dragging you places, so I thought why not.
Husband: Are you going to have “the face”?
Me: What face?
Husband: The Williamsburg Virginia face?
Me: Hahahahaha! You remember a face from 24 years ago, but no recollection if our son is currently in the house?
Husband: Well that face was memorable.
Me: Silence. Can’t argue that truth bomb!
I roamed the streets of Williamsburg VA., dreaming of all the other things I could be doing while the husband looked at EVERY SINGLE artifact in awe. Omg! The flashback is too much!
Don’t even get me started on the women making candles …. I can’t!
So, what does a good wife do? She promises not to have the Williamsburg face, but will not guarantee a lesser state of boredom face. Win win.
We went. We looked. We left. Oh and we overpaid for a soft pretzel that should have been made of gold dough!
On the way home I couldn’t wait to ask the million dollar question:
Me: How was my face?
Me: Come on I thought I did really well.
Husband: Yea, I guess it wasn’t too bad.
Me: “Wasn’t too bad!” I thought I held it in pretty well.
Husband: Yea, you did better than Virginia.
Me: In my defense I don’t care about new cars. In fact, the smell makes me sick. I just care that my car starts and gets me to my destination. Although I did like the speedometer on that Mini Cooper and the red seats in the Jaguar were cool, but I was much more interested in the people.
Husband: In that case you were very happy.
Me: Did you see the empty Gatorade bottle in the Mercedes?
Me: Did you see that guy with the gauges in his earlobes down to his shoulders.
Me: How about the pack of Newports in the Lexus?
Me: Umm … the guy with the tear drop tattoos on his face taking selfies in the Hummer?
Me: Were we at the same show?
Husband: Apparently not.
It doesn’t matter where we were or what we were doing that day, we still had a great time just being together … Enjoying the Ride!
Todays Daily Post Pens and Pencils asks the following:
When was the last time you wrote something substantive — a letter, a story, a journal entry, etc. — by hand? Could you ever imagine returning to a pre-keyboard era?
Just this week I wrote a note of well wishes to a sick friend and good luck wishes to friends who are starting a new chapter in their lives. I would consider both of these notes substantive, because they had the personal touch of the written word …. my words.
As a matter of fact, I can’t return from the pre-keyboard era because I never really left. I love giving and receiving a written note. I don’t care if it’s a simple “Pick up milk” on a post-it or a loving reminder inside a card that someone out there in the world is thinking of me on a special occasion. Handwriting Rocks!
Let me toot my handwriting horn now. My handwriting truly rocks because I went to Catholic school where penmanship was far more important than anything else on the planet. You haven’t lived until you completed an entire copybook of the handwritten alphabet!
My children, ages 20 and 21, will never ever master this craft. There are chickens in barnyards across America with better writing skills! Although my daughter had a brief stint with penmanship, my son had less.
He has voiced his dislike for my hand written notes claiming he struggles to read cursive, while insisting I print. I refuse to resort to wall drawings on his behalf!
At work I still have the pleasure of using a sharpened wood pencil, along with a date book that has real paper pages. Don’t faint.
I use these old school tools to schedule the doctor’s surgeries and I love it! Sharpened pencils make me smile, erasers … well, they make me smile even wider. Trust me, when you’re dealing with the public erasers are a dream come true.
Honestly though the pen and pencil people of the world have to have some empathy for this keyboard era. What are they going to do save a text message from their lovers on their phones? Ugh … that is just depressing.
I guess if they don’t know any different they’re really not missing anything. Ok, now that’s even more depressing.
I am grateful to have the skills to write a note; the ability to appreciate a written note; and the sense to frame a note written by my husband on our first anniversary. Husband and writing are rarely used in the same sentence.
This little beauty has acted as a reminder over the past 24 years on more than one occasion and I cherish its existence. It has also acted as a life saving tool more than once as well … just saying.
Doing things “by hand” isn’t as dirty as it sounds. So take a moment today to write a note and as always … Enjoy the Ride!
Here in good old Philadelphia we recently experienced the “The First Snow of the New Year”, which for some reason became a major news story. Every time a flake fell a WEATHER ALERT interrupted my regular scheduled programing to report on the logistics of said flake. It really makes you want to spike your cocoa.
I would love for snow to go back to the days when it was just snow, before it became headline news. Snow has become the Kim Kardashian of precipitation and it’s equally as overplayed in the media.
Wouldn’t it be nice if snow could just go back to being the plain white pain in the ass it use be? I’ll probably sound all sorts of old right now, but I remember the days when it snowed, everyone dealt with it and we moved on. It was so easy…
No one was out interviewing people on their opinion of the flakes, while we sat glued to the “talking box” with bated breath awaiting the judgements of these novice spectators. When someone with one giant tooth in their mouth claims “the roads were fine” I have to question their credibility. If they can’t see how horrid that tooth looks every damn day they certainly aren’t seeing dangerous road conditions … just sayin.
No one was bringing camera crews out to empty parking lots to report on the emptiness of the parking lots and no one and I mean NO ONE was in our face 24/7 informing us about every single movement of these flakes! This does not include the amateur reports on Social Media, which are enough to trample even the strongest of nerves.
One would think that with ALL of the information that was being provided by our media, PEOPLE would have a better understanding of let’s just say … Snules a/k/a Snow Rules. Um, yes they exist is the land of common sense where I reside. Sadly someone forgot to forward the memo over to the land of asses, which happens to be extremely overpopulated these days. I have dubbed these people Snasses … a/k/a Snow Asses.
Snules: n. a piece of advice about the best way to do something.
Snasses: n. a group of people who don’t follow snules; referred to an ass, a-hole or stupid ass on clear weather days.
Below are just a few examples of Snasses and Snules, you know for the next round of flakes. Feel free to take notes.
Snass: On my white knuckle ride home from the gym during the start of “The First Snow of the New Year” I had someone riding my bumper like I was twerking it up at the VMA’s.
Snule: Unless you are about to perform a colonoscopy I suggest you stay a safe distance behind strange bumpers.
Snass: On Friday afternoon, while on my way to the food store for you guessed it …. milk, I encountered what I am lead to believe was a mini van, but since it was completely snow-covered other than the non proportional eye slots no one will ever really be sure, which I’m guessing was the point.
Snule: When you head out onto the roads clean the snow off your car. This includes the ENTIRE vehicle, especially the large glass surface used to SEE the road. Clearing two spaces for your eyes will not suffice.
Snass: On Saturday afternoon my daughter and I were out and about on a quest for new bras. New year… new bras. Any who … I was being incredibly contained not mentioning the tower of snow on top of the vehicle driving in front of us, but then my daughter unleashed its existence leading to the creation of the word “snass” during my mile long rant.
Snule: Refer back to number 2 to include the ROOF of your vehicle. Driving with a glazier on the top of your vehicle causes blizzard like conditions for everyone driving in your wake. The ONLY exclusion for leaving snow on top of your car would be your lack of arms.
Snass: Parking lots…ugh where do we even begin. Ok, I think it’s safe to assume that the large group of people who decided to venture out for some sales were seasoned mall patrons. Therefore they know EXACTLY how the parking lot is designed and how to use it properly.
Snule: So, unless you have documentation of acute memory loss you need to park in an actual spot…the SIDEWALK leading up the door of the store is NOT suddenly a spot and you know it.
Snass: We all know that being out in your Hummer in the middle of a suburban snow storm makes you feel like some sort of warrior, but let me give you a heads-up … YOU’RE NOT. In fact, driving that thing outside of Afghanistan makes you look ridiculous whether it’s sunny or snowing.
Snule: Unless you are actually driving your oversized vehicle through a snow storm in a war zone, you need to SLOW the hell DOWN and remember you might get to go faster, but you’re not going to stop faster.
Since we are not even through week one of January, it’s safe to say that there will be more snow to come here on the east coast. So please follow the Snules, don’t be a Snass and just Enjoy the Ride!