Well, So Much For That

Day 2 of solitary splendor, and the spell has been broken. 

El marido is home sick today, which means that baby boyo also stays home since he works with his dad and apparently cannot yet be trusted alone in the office.  Poor kid, his reward from graduating from college last weekend is to study his arse off for the hardest test in all mankind--the CPA exam (duh duh duh DAAAAAAH).  His Friday will be spent with his nose in a book and taking online practice exams.  And Max, well, poor Max, too.  He caught a boomerang cold--you know, the kind that gets better right before it rebounds into the mother of all illnesses.  He is consoling himself with a hot toddy, for which I broke open the really good single malt, and his favorite computer strategy game.  

I guess this means I better make some soup.  

It's a good thing I went to the store yesterday. 

The domestic thing, well, now, there's a trick. Given my lingering habit of thinking all my time is my own, it's still something of a surprise when plans change and I need to Do Something Important for other inhabitants of the house, like, say, cook. Fortunately, high levels of practice have almost eliminated my anxiety (although not confusion) about cooking practices. It helps tremendously that boys will snorf up anything in the blink of an eye and not complain a bit about the quality. It also helps that meat is off the menu now, which I never got used to touching, much less cooking, ew. Thank goodness we have a big pot to just throw all the veggies into.  Stir, stir, spice, spice, stir again, and voila!  Food and stuff.  

I think everyone will be okay today, so you can quit your worrying. Max will rest and recuperate with a kitty nearby. Boyo will get caught up on his studying, which may free up his weekend for some fun things. And me, I'll get the joy of taking care of some of the most important people there are to me, on top of some experimentation with spices in the kitchen. I just wish they wouldn't eat it so fast so I could enjoy the look of blissful culinary delight on their faces a little longer.*

* I would take even just one moment of blissful culinary delight. Just...one...

Place Yourself on High Alert...

...BECAUSE TODAY, FOLKS, IT IS PANTS-FREE THURSDAY!

Yes, indeed, I am writing this post sans pants, and you know why?

Because I can. 

And so can you.

Take 'em off.

The school year ended yesterday for me, so now here I am enjoying the most glorious day of the year in a pantsless condition. Important notes on the subject:

#1: I'm alone in the house.  This is critical, and here's why: being alone in the house is a mighty rare occurrence for me. In my past life, before I caught a bad case of Thrasher, I had all the time alone I ever wanted or needed. Maybe even a little more than was good for me. Frankly, though, I kind of got used to it, and pants-free was just a normal condition as long as the shades were drawn. Now, though, not so much. Don't get me wrong, it is absolutely great to have people around to talk to, laugh with (or about), and just hang with. It does put a damper on the whole wearing pants thing, though. So today, while everyone is at work (sorry, boys), I am celebrating by loosening the household dress code. Woo hoo! 

Also, I am not the kind of stepmother who doesn't wear pants around her kids. Ew. Really. Stop thinking about that. Right now.

#2: It is so much easier to dance without pants. Don't believe it?  Take off your pants, put on the music, and get your dance on. AmIright?

#3 and possibly the most important reason: FREEEEEEDOM, SWEET FREEEEEDOM!!!  The day after the last day of school is sacred and beautiful. Once a year, school folks have the pleasure of saying, "Whew, well, I guess that's done, then."  We get an 10-week reprieve from the daily grind of planning, organizing, managing, running, paperworking, meeting, and putting off those things that we need to do for ourselves but for which we simply can't find the time. It is a great relief to put away the to-do list and the crap-I-still need-to-do list for a bit. We can stop worrying about things, set our brains free, relax, and find ourselves again.  

It is time for us to put on the music, take off our pants, and dance. 

So, in honor of all teachers and staff in the school system, I give you the greatest day-after-school-is-out song ever:  

An Ode to Carin, Who Hung This Poem on Her Office Door

I bit my tongue and stood in line

With not much to believe in.

I bought into what I was sold

And ended up with nothing.

I looked about and soon I knew

That I was not alone.

The mass of empty faces

Gave appearances of clones.

How long, I wondered, do we wait

Before one of us breaks,

Will it be the man with narrowed eyes

Or the dreadlocked granola flake?

The light stopped flashing and soon there was

A quiet collective gasp

The line that snaked ten people back

Dared think that they might grasp

Some tenuous hope that they just might

Get through this line of pain

But as I yawned all I could think was

“I’ll never shop Wal-Mart again.”

Thank You, Anonymous Posters, For Saving My Bacon

Around this house here it's the early hours of the morning.  At 8:13, not a creature is stirring, nor will one be for quite some time.  Ahh....mama gets some me-time.  I've turned the pellet stove on, fixed myself a cuppa cuppa, and have managed to convince myself that this cold in my nose is just serious enough to take myself out of the food preparation arena for the day.

I don't know about you, but I've been slammed with spam in my comments sections over the last few days. Since I've pretty much abandoned blogging, I only know this because blogspot faithfully deposits a message containing each comment in my email inbox.  It's helpful, because otherwise I would never know about my growing throng of supporters and their deep devotion to me.

To wit, there is a particularly popular post that my anonymous sweethearts have enthusiastically reacted to titled 'Your Educational Crap For Today.' Here are a few examples of their adoring praise:

"That is very fascinating. You are a very professional blogger."

"Greetings! Very useful advice in this particular article! Many thanks for sharing!" (and then I am urged to quit smoking, which is very useful advice)

"Ridiculous story there. What occurred after?"  (I'll admit it: this one's a favorite.)

"It's a shame you don't have a donate button.  I'd definitely donate to this excellent blog!" (this guy's going to share my blog with his Facebook group!  omg omg!!)

"In these untested times, we should all be wearing Ugg boots."

"I read your article and loave it."

Where else can you get that kind of good old-fashioned honesty?  We're all so afraid of putting our feelings out there, fearful of getting hurt or emotionally maimed or perhaps run over by a school bus full of 8-year-old bullies, but not my anonymous spammers.  No, they just layer on the loave, and thank goodness for that. Without them I would be an insecure, babbling mess of low self-confidence and joyless existence.  They are the most complimentary bunch of stalkers I've ever had!  I believe they're sincere when they tell me that my blog is extraordinary.  I'm sure it's true that they're having trouble subscribing to my RSS feed (I have an RSS feed?) and could I just click on this link to help a brother out?  And where else would I get savvy advice about moistening my brush before I clean my face, but making sure to put the cleanser on my face and not the brush?  I never even knew I was supposed to be washing my face with my brush!  So thank you, anonymous spammers, for all your help.  I'm a better person for it.  Mmwyah!

That's What You Get For Thinking You Know What's Coming Next

Three years and two days ago, Max got down on one knee and asked me to marry him.  I happily said yes, knowing that I was really agreeing to marry into a family.  I gained the promise of two stepsons that night.

It was a very sweet moment.

Little could I have imagined that three years later, in the middle of dinner, my younger stepson would announce, "I've gotta go home and change.  These pants are really crushing my nuts."

The moral of this story is:

Right around Year 3 is when things start to get really good.

So Maybe 5-Year-Olds Aren't So Smart After All

Yesterday I wore capri pants to school. While I was sitting criss-cross applesauce with my little group of 5-year-olds, one of the girls gave a dramatic gasp, pointed to my calves, and said, "Miss Wicked, what's wrong with your leg?!" I looked down, expecting to see blood trickling down or maybe a space alien bursting through, but just saw my regular ol' leg. I asked her what was wrong, and she said, "Your leg--it's so...WHITE!" So I got all sniffy about it and made everyone stick their leg out so we could compare, and I'll admit to you right now that I gloated just a tiny bit when I saw that her leg was whiter than mine..

Is It Wrong to Lie When It's Funny to Me?

I have convinced a friend to go to pole dancing class with me by telling her that we're going to sample cakes for a friend's wedding.