Apply within

May I please have a personal assistant?  I'm not going to go so far as to say I NEED a personal assistant, but pshew, it'd be nice.

I'm not as busy as a lot of moms, true.  I don't have an "outside the home job."  But, I'm crazier than a lot of moms, and lemme tell you, that leaves a lot of slack to be picked up.

Here is my ad:

NEEDED.  PERSONAL ASST.  SALARY SAME AS BOSS!  HRS FLEXIBLE (ANYTIME, 24/7)

• make phone calls to physicians, utilities, contractors that I'm too neurotic to make
• remind me of my schedule.  Do not be fooled by the fact that I have 2 planners and a wall calendar.  I have no idea what the hell is going on.
• force me to exercise.  I WILL play Bejeweled for hours on end, just to say "I didn't have time today."
• plan meal calendars
• set aside "me" time
• organize paperwork
• make to do lists of reasonable length and content.  None of this "re-line all drawers with scented paper" crap that's never gonna happen
• hide the cookies
• prepare correspondence for regular post.  I'll dictate, your handwriting is neater
• schedule nap times, screen calls during naps, maximize my nap efficiency
• remind family members of any upcoming responsibility so they complain to you
• deal with unwanted interactions
• refill my meds

All other errands and responsibilities will be gladly handled by me, your empathetic boss.  I will cook your planned meals, chauffeur to appropriate activities, and do all housework.  I require excellent time management skills.  Forceful, but kind personality required.  Smart asses need not apply.

Oldies but Goodies

After the first few days of school, I've decided that I need a vacation. It's a shocking transition from kids ALL THE TIME to kids NONE OF THE TIME. It's also hard for them to go from daily freedom to a highly structured day at school, but let's be honest: that's their problem.

My problem is that I move from the job of referee, cruise director and short order cook to my autumn job of short order cook, chauffeur, tutor, and launderer. While both jobs have their up and downsides, they are both actual jobs. There really was no vacation time between jobs, either. And I want one.

However, the economy is in the toilet. M doesn't deserve to be saddled with the kids full time as he is going back to school as well. And, I'm not able to go jetting off to Monaco for a week of James Bond-style elegance, high stakes gambling, evening gowns, spa days and sight seeing. So I have a perfect staycation in mind.

Here's what I want: a week at the local retirement home. Yes, you heard me. Nuts? Hear me out:

In the morning, I will be woken at a decent hour. Gently, since no one wants to startle old people lest they wake up and die.

I'll be cooked healthy, low sodium meals. And, if I'm feeling lazy, some one will actually feed me.

Therapeutic massage? Yes, please.

I could have a physical therapist who would come and exercise me while I just sit in a chair.

I could sit outside in the shade and knit, undisturbed.

Nobody would notice if I spilled on myself.

I would not be responsible for anything, ANYTHING at all. I could watch daytime TV. I could eat sugar free bonbons.

I could probably get a sponge bath if I didn't feel like doing it myself. Clean enough. Meh.

I could sit in the corner, petting my dog and talking to him without anyone looking twice.

I could sit in the corner, talking to myself without anyone looking twice.

Don't get me wrong, I don't want to be sent to any low-rent crappy, pee stinkin' old folks home any more than I want to take a Carnival cruise or stay at the Motel 6. I want an upscale, resort-atmosphere retirement lifestyle. Warm pool, aquarobics, little suite of my own home sweet retirement home. I want meds to bliss me out and chill. I'd like nice, friendly staff who push me around for a walk in my chair. I'd like to sit and do sudoku in peace with all my daily needs met by some one else.

If you need me, I'll be at Leisure World. Sweatin' with the Oldies. Making crafts and eating meatloaf. Without a care in the world. But I'm only staying for a week. Don't EVEN THINK of stickin' me there for good.

It's SO FLUFFY!

Yes. Shallow. Yes. Consumerist. Yes. Expensive. Probably. Unnecessary.





I know. But I've spent a bunch of moolah this past month on kids' rooms, kids' school supplies, kids' uniforms. And now that they'll be headed back to school next week (could the whole summer have already passed?), I've been thinking about totally extraneous and expensive crap I think I'd like to have.





1. iphone. It's not my birthday, and I'm not eligible for a phone discount until January. But it's shiny. And cool.





2. ipad. It's even less necessary than an iphone. I have fantasies of my kids being able to use it to watch movies & play games on the road...and it's big and SHINY.





3. To get rid of my guest bedroom clutter. OK. True, not actually a thing, but if I could get rid of that crap, I would be able to get new carpet, and a new dresser, which is really what I'd like to put in there.





4. All-matching kitchen utensils. Lame. I want my kitchen to look like a TV studio kitchen with all the organized stuff and beautifully labeled whatevers, and the nice crock filled with whats its.





5. Really chic sunglasses. Like what's standing between me and chic is eyewear.





6. Size 8 pants that actually fit. Shut up.





7. Free, painless plastic surgery. I want it tucked, hiked up, sucked out, and plumped. Now.





8. A piece of mirrored furniture. I love that stuff. I don't want a roomful or anything. Just one piece. So beautiful. Could actually statisfy wish #3, too.



9. All the super cute clothes I looked at at Nordstrom's BEFORE I fell.

10. Some one to come to my house and help me ruthlessly declutter. I am sick of stacks of papers, despite inboxes/outboxes/bins/baskets and all other means of attempted organization.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some Internet shopping to do.

My Way or the Highness Way

Personal improvement is at the heart of my new year's plan. I know, I know. I've already failed all my actual resolutions. But, the new me is supposed to be more tolerant, more patient, more healthful, more of the good. This goal has been harder to achieve than I originally planned, because as it turns out, I'm quite mean. I'm judgemental, self-righteous, gluttonous, and verbally aggressive. I am a yeller, a bit dramatic, and I want the whole world to fall under my jurisdiction.
Queen Julie. Ruler of the Universe.
Yeah, that's right. I said it. Everyone close to me has always had their nagging suspicious about my plans for world domination. But now it's out there. Deal with it.
I am Queen Julie, Ruler of the Universe. Heed my decrees. There will be no wearing of full make-up to any athletic activity of any kind. You look ridiculous, women. There will no longer be 47 things to sign up for every week at my children's schools. People will stop making irrational decisions that do not affect me in any way, except to annoy me for their irrationality. Guilt, as a tactic of manipulation, is hereby abolished. Idiotic restaurant chains that sell food with 1,200 calories per serving will pay a fat tax. Food called salad, that really isn't shall be renamed: pasta "salad" will be known as oily pasta, potato "salad" will be known as mayonaissed potatoes, cole slaw will be known as fat cabbage. Public officials guilty of corruption shall be reassigned as lunch servers in public high schools. Movie stars and celebrities using their fame to advance political agendas shall be vetted to see if their agendas are permissible under my regime.
And if you think I am cruel and dictatorial, wait 'til you get a load of my sister. As next in line for the throne of Ruler of the Universe, she plans to abolish pets, children, and any non-HGTV cable programming. She plans to use the census information to provide a short & long term goal plan for each family on Earth. She will require BMI scales to be posted outside of buffet restaurants, to prohibit entrance of 25+. SHE will require families to adhere to sensible, rational relations, thereby banishing all holidays (secular and religious) to end squabbling. She makes me look like a benevolent and kind sovereign.
I let you know about my sister, next in line, just in case any one has any funny ideas about regicide.
And remember: closed mindedness will not be tolerated.

Internet Dating

Yesterday, I sat at the car dealership for three and a half hours to have tires replaced and horn repaired. After that circus of delight, I went home and firmly planted my butt in front of my computer.
I have recently received the actual full featured game of Bejeweled, which as one can imagine, is interfering substantially with my family life. I also needed to do my daily search of inane shit through the interwebs.
Briefly, I left my seat to start dinner (read: make a gin and diet tonic). Upon my return, there were 16 windows of Internet Explorer open. Most seemed to be stuck on a google page searching "n." Which really had me stumped, until I remembered that I told Sam to type "n" in the address bar and nickjr.com would appear in the history pop up tab. He just had entered the "n" in the wrong place, which must have been frustrating for him, but irrelevent for me. I closed those windows right up. S also must have clicked on a couple of side bar ads, as netflix had a pop up as did a couple of others. But, my favorite open window, by far, was a questionnaire for an Internet dating service for cougars.
Of course, I instantly start to think of how E and S would describe themselves in a dating ad.

SWM, sensitive, creative and intellectually curious seeks love. Come cry at the movies with me, shadow box alongside me, and let us slay imaginary demons together. I'm musical, love to surf the web, and enjoy all kinds of indoor, sedentary pastimes. I'll read to you, play board games with you, and love to learn all kinds of card games.

SWM, seeks very very thin woman. Let me make you laugh with my slapstick comedy. We can practice rock climbing on your furniture, and build Lego bridges to one another's hearts. I love to socialize, hang out, but not going to restaurants. Let's go out and tackle the world. Blindside it, in fact. I crave speed, danger, and making you worry. I am not for the faint of heart.

OMG! Season Premiere Night!

So, yes. It's only a TV show.
OMG.
It's fake. It's pretend.
It'shere It'shere It'shere!!!
It isn't REAL. It's just TV.
I know I know I know. Ohmygod, Ohmygod, Ohmygod.
HOORAY!
I am squealing like a tween at Zac Efron.
TV season starts this week. Finally. This summer was the longest summer offseason for football, and because of the Hollywood Writers' Strike, this year's TV schedule was all messed up, too. I WANT MY TV, DAMMIT.
And it starts tonight tonight tonight! I am unreasonably excited about the season premiere of Bones. Good characters, good dialogue, good chemistry. M and I watched last season's finale today and I got all fired up about the premiere. I love resolution of cliffhangers. Especially ones that will (hopefully) clarify the relationship subplot between two of my favorite TV characters.
There was Angela and Tony, David and Maddie, Ross and Rachel,Joey and Dawson, Mulder and Scully, Buffy and Angel. Now I have Barney and Robin. Booth and Brennan. Like every other unabashed TV junkie, I have rooted for these relationships season after season. Sure, the romance diminishes the show. Sure, the shows generally jump the shark after the romance blooms. Nonetheless, I still root for it, I still grin and clap stupidly when the chemistry peaks, and I never get tired of a well-written romance (sub)plot in a good TV show.
Why the goofy enthusiasm for TV, you ask. Don't you have a life, you ask. Well, frankly, no. My life is that of normal married person with children. I don't have friends to meet in a bar at all hours of the night. I don't have murders to solve, bones to analyze, DNA scans to rush. I am not a suspiciously frequent victim of crime. So, no. I do not have a lot going on in my life, and frankly, I'm pretty glad.
I can sit down with some ice cream. (My friend Cici has said that if you stuff a bunch of raisins in your mouth all at once, you can pretend it's a brownie. Either Cici has never had a proper brownie, or she's finding some freaking awesome raisins.) I can ogle my TV man candy, (M LOVES it when I do that. He will provoke: "OOOH. Look at that charming smile. Ooh. I bet you love it. Why don't you marry it?" But I don't care about his 3rd grade ridicule. One, because I'm behaving like a third grader when I get all starry eyed about my TVMC, and two, because I don't care. My family is cared for, my job is done for the day, and for one short hour, I can be starry eyed and daydreamy and giggly if I want to. I can free my inner tween if I want to.
In fact, I used to have pin-up posters of my TV crushes (and George Clooney, whom, despite my love, I never watched on ER.) on the inside of the cabinet door at my desk. Publicity shots, headshots from imdb.com, pullouts from fan mags (I only bought them for the posters), whatever. It was, literally, a closet obsession. When we left Missouri, the pictures didn't make it with us. Despite that milestone in growth toward adulthood, I regress every evening to soak up my primetime faves.
3 hours and counting...

The Rhymes With Bucket List

Every night (evening. I generally try to be in bed between 8:45 and 9:15.)when my brain is finally quiet (not functioning, mind you, I literally mean quiet. Without children shouting, dogs barking, music blaring) I begin to think about the next morning's Cinnamon. Sometimes, I just go through the incidents, accidents, and funnies from the day. Sometimes, I think about something that makes me wildly angry or annoyed. Occasionally, I get nothing.
Last night was one of those nights. Yesterday was completely uneventful: I think I'm getting sick, so I took a nap, rested, did laundry, rested and did nothing. The things that really outraged me are political in nature, and I try to avoid politics here. And, so...
I am brought back to my untimely ageing.
This time, though, I was thinking about my TV crush and his wife, who just had a baby together. To quote Carrie Fischer's character from When Harry Met Sally, "He's never going to leave her." Sad, but true. I mean TV Crush MIGHT leave his ex-Playmate wife, but that certainly doesn't mean he's going to take up with me. Sadly. Then there is the whole coming to terms with the fact that my TV crush is married to an ex-Playmate. In my fantasy life, in addition to being handsome, he is thoughtful, and deep, and funny, and charming, and not at all self-absorbed. How to reconcile THIS with the fact that he's married to a woman whose film credits include "Buxom Blonde #1" and "Bombshell #1" and "BJ Cummings"? I am pained. Really, couldn't he be married to a slightly overweight woman with a really interesting face and a compelling daily blog?
Though, while I complain about this woman's ALLEGED shallowness, (We don't want to get sued or anything.) I am going to reveal a deep, dark secret of my marriage.
We each have a List. A list of people (must be reasonably considered celebrities. Putting your hubby's best friend or your next door neighbor would be cheating. Not to mention highly suspect.) with whom, given the opportunity, we would each be allowed to fool around with. It's a free pass. Because, hey, who wants a pesky thing like your marriage to get in the way of a once in a lifetime opportunity to fool around with a B list TV star?
So. Now that I have shared the concept of the list, and I highly encourage you to make one, I will share the contents of my list with you. No snickering. Seriously. Stop it. My list is in no order, because of course, opportunity arises when you least expect it.
1. John Cusack (nostalgic romp)
2. Johnny Depp (intellectual, French romp)
3. David Boreanaz (every week in my living room via TV romp)
4. George Clooney (goes without saying romp)
5. Matt Damon (how do you like them apples romp)
6. John Mayer (just to confirm the rumors romp)
7. Daniel Craig(British Bond romp)
8. Hugh Grant (yah, I said it. I like floppy hair. And accents. Oh, just shut up.)
9. Jon Stewart (smart, well-informed newsy Jewish romp)
10. Depends on what Oscar Party I get invited to....

So, the list lacks a certain degree of diversity. But this reflects no personal bias, but rather a lack of completely hot roles for minorities in Hollywood movies. Also, as some one once pointed out to me, my list has no women on it. Thanks for that observation.
So. If you, gentle readers, know any of these handsome gentlemen, and one night y'all are hanging out, and he happens to remark that he'd really like to hook up with a middle aged housewife, don't fail to give him my name just because I'm married. Thanks.

Man Lives My Fantasy

Why, in all of my dreams, does it go so much more smoothly? And so much less embarrassingly? And end so differently? And, why, in my fantasy does my body look, um, better?