marmite breath slept here

We had such a fantastic time!   Thanks, everybody, for all the well wishes.  They really helped.  As I put on my make up and did my hair, I thought to myself, "I'm just going to have a good time and not worry about how I look" and I managed to stick to that promise. 

This will be a very perfunctory write-up, because I am hung over and want to go to bed.  Detox definitely starts tomorrow.  Not just detox from wine (because even though this blog may make you think I am a big drinker, I'm really not) but detox from shitty food aswell.  I've eaten more ice cream in the past week than I think I've eaten in the past year.  Seriously!  Back to business!

Anyway, Aaron did an amazing job of being the emcee and I was very, very proud of him.  He looked really handsome in his dinner dress uniform aswell.    The ceremony was great--very moving and patriotic.  I loved watching the sailors walk through the sword arch with their loves.  I couldn't help thinking of how much Grandad Tom would have loved to be there. 

The people at our table were absolutely lovely (yes, even those people, who while I know I could never actually be the best of friends with them, were just the epitome of sweet, and they were awesome dancers to boot!).  We also sat near another couple who were a lot of fun and great to talk to.   The wife was hilarious and we got along very well and drank lots of white zin together.  I also forgot that I have no dance abilities whatsoever, and when they played Love Shack by the B52's, I couldn't help myself.  I had to boogie.  It's funny how wine makes you forget that you're a crap dancer, isn't it?  I just dragged this poor woman out there with me and I'm sure I looked like Elaine from Seinfeld with the dancing.  I'm not a natural dancer.  Ha ha ha!!

Aaron and I danced to Wonderful Tonight and I felt so proud that I had the most handsome and accomplished man in the room.   He didn't even pay me to say that!  There's something about that song.....I know it's a bit lame, but I can't help loving it.

After we had showed the young uns how to dance the night away, we went to a Martini bar with our new best friends and I had the most delicious chocolate banana martini.  Then I decided I had better stick to water, because I was in danger of talking everybody to DEATH.  As you do after five glasses of wine and a martini. 

Then it became obvious that we were too old to hang (it was midnight, and I don't care what you say, that's late enough for a 30 year old!), and we walked (actually, staggered would be more like it, because I had been in heels for hours and was in serious pain) back to our hotel and settled in for the night.  And by settled in, I mean fell asleep watching an informercial on vacuum cleaners.  Well, that was just me.   I woke up numerous times in the night going, "I'm DYING of thirst!" and then another thought, "Oh GOD!  I danced!"

I begged Aaron to tell me how much of a horrible dancer I was, but all he would say was that he was very proud of me because I seemed so free.  Free, y'all.  Is that the same as retarded?  Or bad dancer?  Or recently escaped mental patient?  Because free didn't do it for me in the adjective department.

But anyway, if you've made it all the way through this excruciatingly mundane write-up, I'd like to congratulate you.  Because I know I'm not making much sense, and I should just go to bed.  I'll be blogging every day starting on Wednesday.  I'll take suggestions for topics!

The day of the ball is upon us!  And because I said that some particularly religious people were obnoxious, God decided to retaliate by making my chin break out and by making me sit with those same people at dinner tonight.

Well played, God, well played. 

So, yeah, my chin is like a particularly bumpy, hilly area, and I have nerves like nothing I've ever experienced.  I could totally throw up right now.  I wish I could wear a bag over my head.  I've resigned myself to the fact that I am zaftig, but the face?  The face is something that I have limited resources with which to work.   Did that sentence make sense?

But as always, I know that my good friend Chardonnay will help me to not give a shit.  Or my other friend Zinfandel.  I love them! 

My mood right now seriously needs to improve.  I have been crying since last night.  Hadleigh heard me crying on the stairs and crept over to ask me, "Mommy, did Grandad die or something?"  

I had to tell her, "No, I'm crying because I am UGLY!" and then I began to cry even more, because what sort of a shallow, vain, self-absorbed person must I be, that I was crying SO HARD over my face that my poor daughter thought that Saint Rod must have died.  I am a shitty person.

Before I went to bed, I took a bath, painted my fingernails and toenails an obscene shade of red, gave myself a face mask, and read some of Bill Bryson's Notes From a Small Island (for the fifth time).  That cheered me up.  This picture cheered me up too.  Tom cracks me up.  Can you believe he fell asleep like this?

So, let's see..... I know I'm going to forget something.  I'll get to the hotel room (yeah, because we are spending the night away from the kids!) and realize that I forgot my shoes or something.  I need to focus.  I should be packing, but blogging sounded better.  Actually, going to Target and spending money we don't have on total crap that makes me feel better sounded the best!

Here's what my heart cried out for this morning.

Yes, dark chocolate, juice, and an avocado.  I had an avocado last night too.  I adore them, but they are expensive and extremely fattening (yes, but good for your heart!).

The dark chocolate speaks for itself, but between that and the avocado, just make me need the magic knickers even more. 

Speaking of...........

My two-c-section-having belly does not stand a chance against these monstrous things!  It'll be a miracle if I can even move with the amount of industrial strength stuff in there (what exactly IS in there anyway?  Steel?).   Added bonus of magic knickers is that it helps my legs too.

On the way home from Target, I was listening to an old Tears for Fears album and crying about my face (again).  I was suddenly jolted back to England when I was about 13, and I vividly remembered WISHING that I could have a spot on my face so that I would feel like a teenager or a grown up.  

I wish I could go back in time and smack myself. 

I also used to wish fervently that I would hurry up and start my period.  I even carried tampons around in my bag, just in case the boys in my class happened to rummage through my bag.  I wanted them to think that I was a very mature sort of girl.  Never mind that I had no boobs, clear skin, and wouldn't start my period for another two years. 

I still have no boobs, but that's because they were annihilated by breastfeeding.  I wish I had never started my periods because they make me insane.   Clear skin is a thing of the past, but Tears for Fears still makes me cry.

Tom, Had, and Tom's friend Brock are at the kitchen table yesterday, just chattering away to eachother.  Tom puts his head to one side, looks at his sister and very sweetly says, "Hadleigh, you're such a FREAK!, but I mean that in a good way." 

Hadleigh's eyes open very wide as if she cannot believe he has said this to her.  She turns to me and says, "Mom, you should put that in your blog so people can see how he talks to me!"

Voilà!  (Or as they say in this gas station bathroom, Wala!)  (And yes, I do take photos in gas station bathrooms.  So what?)

Just another moment in our family that made me howl.  I feel sorry for normal families.

This short post brought to you in preparation for NaBloPoMo.  (Click link for details)

"Towanda ordained that: an equal number of men and women would be in the government and sit in on peace talks; she and her staff of crack chemical scientists would find a cure for cancer and invent a pill that would let you eat all you want and not gain weight.........."

Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Café.  By Fannie Flagg.

I went shoe shopping today, y'all,  so understandably, I want to kill myself tonight.  

Lotta and my lovely cousin Jo have convinced me that I need to "kick it up a notch" in the shoe department, and after Aaron admitted that he wasn't wild about the shoes I had, I decided that three people saying new shoes is enough to warrant new shoes.   I think that rule is from the Geneva Convention or something.

Lotta sent me some ideas (LOVED THEM) so I took the ideas and went shopping with them.  I found just the perfect shoes, but couldn't find them in my size (fat pork chop).  We then went to the mall to look, and Oh, Dear God, it was crowded.   And on the way there, it was snowing.  (Cannot believe it is getting cold enough to snow, but it does offer more opportunities to see this hilarity, and that is one of my favourite pictures EVER!).  

And in the tradition of me attracting strangeness wherever I go, we did see this INSANE SIGHT on Main Street!  And they say living in the Midwest is boring?!   I mean, come on!  It is a big-ass turkey just strolling down the street!  (The weirdest part of the entire situation was the two guys in the background.  Aaron leaned out of the window and jokingly said in an exaggerated Southern accent, "Y'all don't got a gun, do ya? Cause, there's dinner right there!" and one of the guys said, "Nope, but I gotta knife in m' truck and I'm about to go after that thing.  It ain't got a tag on, it's turkey season, and it's within city limits.")

So, anyway, I am still on the lookout for super-hot shoes, but I did get (at Kohl's, the other day) a lovely new wrap, some great earrings and necklace, cute little bag and most importantly, some massive stretchy underwear to go underneath the dress and squeeze my stomach in and make everybody think that I have not had two children.  I like to call them magic knickers.  It helps me feel better about wearing them.

Oh, and I just wanted to say, thanks for the compliments and advice, everyone.  I wanted to turn off comments on that, because I wasn't fishing for compliments at all (I am notoriously bad about accepting them graciously and usually make people want to smack me after it's all said and done).

I need wine to relax.  This damn ball has just been giving me an ulcer.  I've also decided to chuck-in the diet.  Who cares if I'm thin by Friday?  It's not going to happen so I have stopped caring!   In the spirit of not caring, I made Nigella's Cream Cheese Brownies (Aaron ate about eight of them and I ate four, and I bet the magic knickers will have their work cut out for them) and I made (for the first time) Fried Green Tomatoes.  Holy Crap!  They're awesome!  I was so sad that the frost killed the tomato plants, but the Father in Law (yes, he whose arse I inadvertently saw) suggested I make fried green tomatoes out of the ones left on the vine.   Whooooeeeee, I'm so glad he did!

I leave you tonight with a video that makes me feel a little bit better about myself. 

Click here to see the Dove Video

Enjoy the rest of your weekend!

Today is Love Thursday (click the link for details) and I wanted to put a picture that depicted love. 

I have so many pictures that I adore, so I will have to really participate in this Love Thursday thing more often.  For today, I chose that sweet love between siblings--and specifically, Hadleigh and Tom.  While many picture sessions end up with me threatening to kill and eat them, there are some cute ones where I know they love eachother and enjoy their time together (even if they deny it vehemently!).

Here's a slideshow of my favourite siblings being........siblings. 

Happy Love Thursday!!

I will never post anything as PRIVATE, you guys.  So, if you try to comment and my blog gives you hassle,  just assume that it is blog.com's problem.  Don't let it stop you from leaving a comment, though!  Come back later and leave it.  The hiccups never last for long around here, but damn, it's frustrating!  I'd like to switch to another platform.

I was having problems posting a comment to my "Bringing the Shallow" post.  Just wanted to clarify.  :)

The ball is approaching fast, and I still look like hell.  I was hoping to have stumbled upon a miracle cure for blotchy zit face and a miracle diet by now.  My visit to the dermatologist this morning went well (he didn't laugh at me when I went in there with no make-up on, which is a good sign).  I'm going to get some funky blue light therapy on my face in a couple of weeks.  Hopefully that will help.  Not in time for the ball, but it will help in general.

The body-like-a-turnip problem is not going to go away in time for the ball, I'm afraid.  It's a shame too, since I have been working out diligently for two whole days in a row.  I know!  Can you believe it?  My metabolism did not get the memo to hurry the hell up.  I almost killed myself on the treadmill tonight, talking myself through the whole thing.  Not talking out loud, of course.  That would be KERR-AY-ZEE!  I did mutter.  Does that count?  Here was the gist of the pep talk.

I am going to look amazing in my dress.  I am!  People at the ball will be all, "OMG! You must have worked out for WEEKS to get a body like that" I will be the success story of the ball......

At this point, I will give a modest nod and coy Princess Di look.  Then the emcee will grab the mike and gush:

"You are an INSPIRATION to us all.  We raise our glasses to you, Nat, winner of Most Amazing Body award (In the Women-Who-Have-Grown-Other-Human-Beings-Inside-Them category, of course, not the  I'm-a-Twenty-Year-Old-College-Student-And-My-Boobs-Have-No-Intention-of-Drooping-For-Quite-Some-Time category) for the night.   We salute you for all your hard work on the treadmill."

At this point in my reverie, I started listening to Mitt Romney on CNN, and I was seized with the urge to punch the screen and then kick it, so I was snapped out of it.   I also remembered that I have broad shoulders and a stupidly nervous grin.  And I hate my teeth. 

The confidence disappeared.

Reality is, I'm scared that I'm going to embarrass my husband.  I do not have the body required for this dress, and I am in need of a corset.  In order to feel better about the corset, I am planning on acting like a character from a Jane Austen novel all night.  I'm sure that won't be annoying at all.    So, what else do I need?  A wrap to cover my ugly shoulders.  And a paper bag to cover up my face.

I am growing my eyebrows out so that I can get them threaded before the ball.  I look so damn scary.  I want to tweeze, but I have to be patient and let the expert deal with them.  I'm sure I don't need to mention how ridiculous Aaron thinks this whole thing is becoming.

Have I mentioned my haircut that I got today?  The one that makes me look like Kevin the Teenager?  Here's a picture for proof.  See?  You can't tell if it's me or Kevin, can you?  Kevin's hair is not grey, that's how you know it's not me.

I have no idea if I should wear tights (I said tights to someone the other day and they asked me if I meant hose.  Honestly?  I have no idea what I meant.  I guess I mean those sheer things.  Nylons.  Panty hose?  What the hell ever!  I hate being a woman sometimes).  Do I need them or not? 

Internet!  Help me decide!

Is it horrible for me to be bare legged in this dress?

Do you see how I am just BRIMMING OVER with confidence and bravado?  (It's because I painted out my face and at the time this picture was taken, I had no idea that I looked like I had Dame Edna's figure)

  Are these shoes okay? 

 Or should I wear these?

I have the death cold.  It is slowly killing me.  No matter how much cough medicine I take, no matter how many gallons of camomile and honey I drink, I still sound like Phoebe when she got a cold and turned into a jazz singer (sticky shoe! oh my sticky, sticky shoe!). 

It's making my week drag on, but Thank Feck It's Friday!  Finally! (Scariest moment of week? When the school called at 9 o'clock in the morning to ask why Hadleigh was not there.  My legs turned to jelly and I almost threw up.  She had walked to school an hour ago! Luckily, the nurse came back on the line to tell me that it was a mix up, and Hadleigh had not, in fact, been abducted, which is of course what I thought).  

Blah.  Shut up, Nat.  Damn, you are becoming really boring and not able to stick to a thought!!

As I was trying to say, before I interrupted myself, we've had the usual Family Movie Night tonight (it was Garfield: A Tale of Two Kitties and I am ashamed to say that I laughed all the way through.  Plus, it featured Dawn from The Office!).  Tonight, we also had fried chicken and ice cream, because, well, it's Friday, and what better way to reward yourself for being good all week?  Or at least being alive all week.

I really shouldn't have tried to blog tonight--we wanted to watch some episodes of The Office (American version) but I was drawn to the computer.  I will probably also end up watching some Law and Order: Criminal Intent, because I love me some Vincent D'Onofrio.  He is just one of the many crushes I have right now.  It is shameful, really.  I am a grown woman!   But I also love this guy.  Oh, and this guy too.  And have a long-standing crush on this lovely man.  I need to just SHUT UP now, don't I?  Where was I?

News.  Must think of interesting and blog-worthy news.  See, I'm alone right now.  Blissfully alone!  Aaron fell asleep while putting the kids to bed, and now I'm here, and the dryer hasn't finished it's cycle yet, so I've got nothing to fold.

Did you hear me?  DRYER!  I said DRYER!  Yeah!!  The dryer is fixed!  I'll try to keep this short, but this summer, the dryer broke, and I've been hanging my washing out ever since.  We finally broke down this week (due to freezing temps here) and bought a new one from Lowe's.  We dragged it home in the van, got it down the basement stairs (no small feat considering I am 4'11" and a total wimp about carrying things) to the laundry room where we plugged it in and......NOTHING! 

Apparently it was an electrical problem.  (We had to take the blooming dryer back to the shop and say, "Er, sorry, we don't need it after all, our other one works just fine).  Yeah, the electrical problem cost us almost $400.  I say almost because my husband came home and upbraided the electricians for their extortionate prices.  They knocked off $99.  And all I had to pay was my pride.  Small thing, really.  For reals, after you have been there with the electrician making small talk, it sucks to have Husband-the-Barbarian come home and wreck the delicate serviceperson/homeowner balance.  Although, thank God he did, because I am way too polite to say, "WHAT THE FECK? I COULD HAVE DONE THAT MYSELF!" but that's me and my nonconfrontationalist (?) ways.

But the main thing is, I have the pleasure of folding warm clothes again.  And believe me folks, I never in a million years thought I would be happy about that.  Next thing you know I'll be positively giddy about cleaning toilets.  (Please harshly chastise me if that happens).

The other thing to be happy about, is, I found a dress for the ball.   Yeah!  Well, I found two, but the first one, I decided, wasn't quite dressy enough, and since I've never been to anything like this before, I wanted to look nice.  The thing that worries me is that I will probably be the oldest woman there (if anybody calls me a handsome woman, or refers to me as that nice mature lady over the bar, I will kill myself, seriously).  How can I compare with these college-age chippies with pert boobies and no c-section bellies protruding from their dresses?  GAH!  It is enough to make me scream with frustration. 

It was painful even LOOKING at the dresses and trying them on.  I did dress up though, just to shop, because last time when I went shopping, I wore filthy jeans (see: no dryer, only fit into one pair at the moment) and no make up.  It was tragic.   Anyway, I went out in a skirt and tights this time (it was hilarious, I was so feeling like a fraud before I left.  I was like, "Uh, do people REALLY dress like this at home? Should I unload the dishwasher in full-make-up and a skirt!?").  As it happens, one CAN dress up if one is a Stay at Home Mother, but one should still make Rock and Roll Signs, Peace Signs, and Idiotic Faces so as not to be confused with proper (read: stodgy) grown up.  

The lady in the consignment shop today wasn't any help at making me feel better (Yes, I know, I am the only one responsible for making myself feel good about myself, blah blah, psychobabble, whatever!).  She attempted to zip up one dress over my pathetic boobs and didn't even TRY to make me feel better when it wouldn't go.

"Nope. Not gonna work" she said, and whisked the zip back down.  GRR. 

"Oh dear," I simpered.  "Maybe I underestimated the size of my body.....I'll just pop over to the bigger sizes, shall I?" (unspoken by me was the following: "You old biddy! You are worse than the woman in the Junior League shop! I hope your dentures fall out!") and off I went to the bigger sizes.  That is, anything over a 2.  FECK!

Can I just send out a plea here, to the makers of formal wear?  Can you stop making the stuff so freaking GLITTERY!  It was so Suzanne Sugarbaker-ish, I almost hurled.   I found something that fit and that I liked (rare) and bought it.  Now I have to figure out what to do, make-up wise (I think I will make Kristi give me a makeover) and my hair (got to cover the grey, it is getting drastic).  Oh, and shoes.  I do have shoes, but I don't know if I should wear tights.  I may post pictures and ask the internet for advice.  That is a popular thing to do.  And I am nothing if not popular.

Amazing segue into next paragraph.

Speaking of popular (she says in a lazy drawl with an "I-can't-even-believe-I'm-mentioning-this-but...." look on her face)......Amalah mentioned my blog in her Mom's Daily Dose blog.  Click here to read it!  I swooned.

My poor husband has no idea who Amalah is. (Answer: The Queen of Everything and also, according to Y of Joy Unexpected, she is the Inventor of Motherhood, Diaper Bags and Post-It Notes).  It just almost killed me to type that last sentence, because I am trying to boycott Y's blog (on account of me emailing her once and her not emailing me back and then my feelings were CRUSHED, just completely CRUSHED, because OMG! I am a loser, sending fan mail, and WHY DID I DO THAT?) but I cannot boycott it because then I would not be able to pee my pants laughing daily.  So, Y, you are still read by me, but only just.  Yeah, I know, you're distraught. 

So, Aaron did not understand why I suddenly went from being almost dead (due to cough) to ridiculous Dancing Queen in the kitchen.  I don't understand it either.  But it means something.  Hell if I know what, but it means something!  Thanks, Amy!  This is like the time that Jenny linked to me and all of a sudden I had people other than my family reading my blog.  It's enough to make me become really obnoxious (er).  Get me some Marmite on Toast and a glass of Zin!  Snap to it!  Minions!

And now, off to wake up Aaron, get some wine, make some popcorn and veg out.  Aaaah.  What a fine end to the week.   Send GetWellAndStopHackingUpLungs vibes over here.

PS) Baby Katie went home!  Three cheers!  The worst is over, Kristi.  Now start thinking of what colour eye-shadow will flatter my brown eyes!  You know, the important stuff!

So this whole Foley thing?  Horrible, right? 

And while I'm usually the first (okay, second, third or fourth after my husband and his parents) to laugh when a Republican screws up, I have to tell you, my first instinct when I saw the words "Foley" and "Scandal" on the news was not laughter.  It was absolute dismay.

Dave Foley?  Molestation scandal?  What the hell?  That's not the Dave Foley I know!

(You like how I just worked that in there, all casual like??  And now you're wondering how that happened and you are VERY INTERESTED TO KNOW just how I know Mr Dave Foley, aren't you?)

Okay, fine.  I don't actually know him.  But I have met him.  And I honestly was freaked out when I saw that there was a Foley scandal. 

Thank God that Dave wasn't involved.   I always figured if there was going to be a scandal involving any of the Kids in the Hall, it would be Scott.  Never Dave, or that adorable Bruce.

But now is the time on Sprockets when we dance brag.....so....... this time last year, my friend Deanna took me to meet Dave on the set of a movie, and I am in her debt forever.   And also this time last year, apparently I had some long-ass hair!  And Tom was practically bald in comparison to how he looks now!  And I ate Lasagna that day!  Why is that last part important, you ask?  Don't open that can of worms, people.  I'll tell you sometime. 

Just know that Mr Dave Foley does not send inappropriate text messages to minors.  He does not abuse the trust of people who elect him.  He does not pretend to be an alcoholic to cover up his weird tendencies. 

He does, however, make me wish that all famous people were as kind (he told us to come back and hang out in his trailer if we wanted to get out of the cold!) and sweet (he did the voice of Flik for Tom and Brock and signed our DVD) as he is. 

And still ridiculously cute for an older dude.