Pity Party – Table for One

11 Apr

Last night was beautiful.  The weather was delightful, warm with a crisp breeze.  The sun was in that perfect place in the sky, an hour or so before sunset, still warm and well-lit, but low enough to be soft and glowing.

I took the time to uncover the grill and clean it.   Really scrub it, shiny and new.   And then, for the first time this season, fired it up and grilled dinner.  I only made hot dogs, but they were perfect, delicious Nathan’s hot dogs.  Crisp, but not browned, on the outside, and steamy, juicy, tasty on the inside.  Served on soft, plump white hot dog buns with  salty, tangy baked beans on the side.  It looked and tasted like summer.

I decided it was the perfect time to christen the patio furniture for the year.  To sit outside, eat and enjoy the moment.  I asked the Judge if he was going to eat with me:

Judge: Sure, sounds good.

Judge: Wait, where?  Inside or out?

Me: Outside, it is beautiful!

Judge: Oh.  I’ll just eat upstairs then.

And so I headed outside and ate my delicious summer meal, all by myself.    I watched the sun set and relished the breeze blowing.  And felt very alone.  And very sorry for myself.  And very  sad that my husband chose to sequester himself, in his office, instead of simply eating with me.


Moving on Up

10 Feb

Or out.  Whatever.

As my current blog title  has a bit of an expiration date, I’ve decided to move to a new site. I’m still doing the List and will have a page for it, but this way my scope is broader and I can bitch about even MORE things.

Come!  Visit me at notwithoutmytowel.wordpress.com where the work may be in progress, but the shenanigans remain the same.

One, Two …. Eleventy! Eleventy Annoying Things. Hah Hah Hah Hah.

7 Feb

It Is A Terrible Horrible No Good Very Bad Day.

You’ve been notified.  Officially.   Twinkies, Ginger Ale and Cheetos should be sent my way.

Not in any serious or concrete way.  Just in small, annoying, hurtful ways.

I hurt myself walking the dogs.  LadyBlog is in the midst of a major design overhaul and is waaaay buggy.  The lunch I brought is terrible. My hair is funny. My makeup is sliding off.  My contacts wouldn’t go in.  I’m not getting crap done at work. A blogger I won’t mention by name had an entire post about how it’s not fair that people think she’s perfect, because of course she’s not perfect, just mostly.  And  it’s only because she gets to be a SAHM for religious reasons and has hours of time to spend on her writing and photography.  Which is why it is perfect, unlike those busy moms who don’t. Which is just fine, of course.  They shouldn’t feel bad. Or try to compare themselves to her perfection.

(No, that last thing didn’t strike a major nerve, or anything. Why do you ask? )

(Okay, I was actually going to do a whole post about just that last thing, but I’d feel weird about not linking to it and I don’t want to do that.)

I hope it gets better.  It will get better.

Eventually it will be 5 o’clock and cocktails fix anything.

My Tara

4 Feb

I’ve got an addiction and much like HGTV-itis,  it’s hard to shake.

This. I love this website.

And how could you not?  Thousands and thousands of homeplans!  All searchable, sortable, dreamable.  It’s so very much fun to sort through, look for fantasy houses that you’ll never even come close to owning or the houses you might actually build.

My unrealistic dream home?

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Isn’t she beautiful?  There is nothing about this house I don’t love.  The design, the glorious columns, the sunken living room, the separated upstairs bedrooms, the first floor master.  With a huge landscaped pool in the back?  And a lovely circular drive out front?  Mama wants.

Mama does not want to dust that, though.

More realistically, I gravitate towards long, low ranches with formal dining rooms and space for an office.  If I ever find the PERFECT one, I’ll be sure to post.

I Can’t Spell

2 Feb

I can’t, it’s true.   I am a terrible speller with terrible handwriting.

(Tangent: When I was a kid and reading the Little House series, I always  worried that if I was ever teleported back to the late 1800’s, I’d never get through school.  Because rote spelling and perfect ornate handwriting was very important.  And Laura would win all the spelling bees and Ma and Pa Ingalls would be so disappointed in me.  And I could never be a teacher, like Laura.  And then I’d be a complete failure at The Pioneer Life.  Which would make me mean and hateful like Nelly.)

(God, I was a dumb kid.)

Anyway, I am bad at spelling and if you ever get a handwritten note from me, good luck reading it.    But, in spite of these faults, I try to be a good writer.  Even casually writing, emails, texts, internet comments.   And I know something’s wrong when I see it, even if I don’t know what ‘right’ might be.

(Tangent..again: I do, however, have an irrational love for some of today’s weird internet/text-speak driven abbreviations.  BTW, WTF, OMGWTFBBQ, etc.  And I doubly love those abbreviations sounded out.  Like recent post title BTDubs or my current favorite ‘less than three you’.  Think about it…….funny, right?)

Onwards!  Inspite of my failings, or perhaps because I have to try so very hard to correct them, I get ANGRY at the weirdest spelling/grammar issues that others make.

Today’s pet peeve? Voila!  It is not, nor ever will be ‘wah-lah’  or ‘waalaa’ or anything else.  It is a French exclamation and it is VOILA.  Goddamn it.