La Nouvelle Blog

I needed to find a place to obsess about the stuff I buy, the stuff I want to buy, and the stuff I see in catalogs and magazines. And I didn't really think this blog was the place to do it ... well, maybe it is, but that didn't stop me from starting another blog.

So I did.

--P.

Putting the "t" in Saturday.

There is nothing better than a Saturday morning.

I wake up whenever I wake up. Right away that's an incredible feeling. The older I get the more I realize that there is nothing better than being well-rested. It's a subtle thing, but somehow when I wake up having slept for that all-important eight hours, my mind feels cleansed and I've developed a thicker skin. For the rest of the day, things simply won't get to me the way they do when I've had five hours of sleep.

Generally my kids are already up. I wander into the kitchen for my first cup of tea. The cereal bowls on the kitchen table tell me that the offspring have eaten. They're off watching Saturday morning cartoons. I can't hear the television from my bedroom, so I head back there with a mug of tea.

Then it's time to fool around on the internet. Good morning, internet!

You know, I'm still glowing from the experience of meeting the Blogging Babes. I realize I didn't even begin to talk about how amazing these women are. Like Jen--I didn't even realize that Jen of Jennsylvania was also one of the Snarkywood group and was also Jen Lancaster of Bitter is the New Black. And there I was, having lunch with her. Call me a gibbering fangirl, but the Wayne-and-Garth "I'm not worthy!" just about sums it up. And? She's gorgeous.

And Susie Sunshine, how amazing is she? That she came into town for a brief visit and orchestrated this awesome meet-and-greet and she is so adorable and cute and young and writes a totally hilarious kick-ass blog and has. four. sons. I could mistake this gorgeous young thing for a movie star. Good Lord, I have two children and I look like I'm ready to be hauled off to the glue factory.

And then lakeline and Law Mom--how great was it to meet them? They are both so funny and charming and guess what? They were gorgeous, too. I didn't know their blogs before, but checked them out and they're both great reads, so I added them to my blogroll.

And they were all wonderfully tolerant of my loserish slacker-before-the-term-was-coined self. Yay!

Now I am intent upon getting other Chickago bloggers to hit Jen's booksigning event at Barnes and Noble. You heard it here first. I want that chick's autograph. And Chickago bloggers? You do too.

So OK, I came home and promptly dropped my laptop and cracked the screen and am therefore the Helen Keller of blogging ... "D - O - L - L" ! But whatever, you know? I won't let it harsh my Saturday morning mellow.

I think I'll get more tea.

--P.

It's my obsession, part deux.

Heh heh heh.

OK, so maybe Pat Robertson thinks I'm a sinner (see last post) but personally, I think God loves me and wants me to be happy. Look what showed up in the mail yesterday:

See, when I obsess about something, I don't sit around like the Lady of Shalott. No, I do something about it. And the proof is currently sitting on my bed. So. Pat Robertson can just kiss my moon-like ass.

Also? Notice the extra super-fantastic Moschino gloves with the super cute hearts trimmed in gold leather on the tops. Don't they go great with the bag? See the brown and gold? See?

Man, I'll bet those blogging babes were wicked impressed when I met them today. I bet they were thinking "wow, and she writes like such a slob. But those accessories ...!"

--P

Oh dear. What will Pat Robertson say?

I'm afraid I've been having way too much fun with my computer. So God punished me this evening by letting me pick it up too quickly and then drop it on the floor, cracking the monitor so that weird rainbow-colored lines, strange, creepy shadows, and various other impediments to my reading ease now sully its formerly pristine surface.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. To backtrack:

Today I got into some halfway decent clothes (for once) and drove downtown to have lunch with Susie Sunshine, Jen (the governor of Jennsylvania), Law Mom, and lakeline. OMG the hilarity. If you blog and you haven't met your fellow bloggers, you've got to do it. But be warned; unless you're a photo blogger of few words and many images, you are mostly dealing with a bunch of wordsmiths. Who have a performance thing going. So you will find yourself in a lively, outgoing, articulate group of people. Basically, NONE OF YOU WILL BE ABLE TO SHUT UP.

The proof that this is true? When Jen joined us, we had to move from a booth for four to a larger table. The restaurant staff took the opportunity to put us in the most secluded booth in the restaurant. I think the booth was code-named "Las Vegas," with all kinds of secret codes and spy-like procedures to make sure that the events in that booth STAYED in that booth. They could just tell we were going to act up, see. And this was before Susie announced that lakeline is "knocked up." And way before the margaritas arrived.

OK, now we skip forward to almost the present moment. I came upstairs to blog about this fabulous, fabulous afternoon. I grabbed my laptop off the floor--and inconveniently forgot that it was plugged into the printer. The USB cable didn't want to let go, and BAM! the laptop landed on the floor.

One cracked monitor later, I remembered that after Hurricane Katrina slammed the Gulf Coast, Pat Robertson announced that it was New Orleans' fault, what with all the drinking, carousing, homosexuality, jello shots, and beignets. And then Ariel Sharon has a stroke and guess what? Pat Robertson said that God is punishing him for letting a lot of the wrong sort of people traipse all over Jesus' back yard.

Well, I can put two and two together, and I see where this is going. Obviously God is punishing me for hanging out sucking down margaritas with these fine blogging babes when I should have been at home updating the kitchen calendar with all the children's school information. Or alphabetizing the spice rack. Or dusting the Mr. Potato Heads. Or some such.

But no, I swagger my big fat dipsomaniacal ass down to the big city and hang out with cool blogging chicks. So it just serves me right that I can't see a goddamned thing I'm typing.

--P.

Funny and bloggy

Envy me, for later today, I am having lunch with Susie Sunshine and two other Chicago bloggers. I predict much hilarity will ensue.

For Blackbird's Show-and-tell Friday, I'll be posting pictures of the kick-ass quilt my mother-in- law just made for my daughter. If you like quilts, you will be jellus. Guaranteed.

I'd say more, but it's the crack of dawn, people. Honestly! Can't a girl finish her morning caffeine?

Warm and squishy

Walking home from school the other day, my eight-year-old daughter tucked her hand confidingly into mine as she told me all about something or other. I couldn't tell you what it was, now, because my brain had imploded from shock. She was holding my hand. And then my 10-year-old son did the same thing. So I was walking down the sidewalk between my children, holding both of their hands, and feeling like the sweet, creamy filling between the two Oreo wafers. Or some such. I tried not to gibber senselessly while it was going on, because under these circumstances, what is called for is Positive Reinforcement, which means you can't let your children know how much you love it when they hold your hand. Or they will never do it again.

So I'll tell the internet, instead.

Also, I just finished making the plane reservations for a trip next weekend with That Stud Muffin I Married. We're flying to Miami and staying here where we will attend a performance of this ballet company, go to a swanky reception, eat at at least one awesome restaurant, and loiter with Joke and That Fabulous Babe He Married. And the children's all-time favorite babysitter, who is bright, sweet, young, energetic, and responsible, has agreed to sit for the weekend.

Also, it's not cold out. It's January in Chicago and it hasn't been below freezing in days. Instead their usual ice skating expeditions, my children will be going mud wrestling for P.E. Or dirt biking. Or maybe just shoveling more compost over the perennials in the school yard. Whatever you can do outside when it's freakily warm and muddy.

This maybe isn't such great news for them or my rugs, but it does make some things much easier. Like getting over to the gym and working out. There's something so off-putting about putting on all these layers of clothes to get to the gym only to get there, take most of it off again, and proceed to get sweaty. But leaving the house in my work out clothes with no coat/hat/gloves/boots to deal with? Priceless.

So basically, it's so warm and squishy, it's like puppy poop around here. (Metaphorically speaking. I'm not Dooce.)

--P.

Resolved, for 2006

Hmmmm ... let's see. How many resolutions have I come up with?

1. Quit smoking.

Now don't get all shocked on me. I don't actually smoke. I know how to smoke, though, and when I was bored to death at the very nice cocktail party I went to on New Year's Eve, I helped myself to a cigarette. (It was that or start pocketing stuff. I don't handle boredom very well.) But that gave me an instant resolution--how cool is that? So I went around telling people I was going to quit smoking for New Year's.

2. Be environmentally friendly.

One of my bathrooms has lighting so unflattering that I'm tempted never to go in there unless I'm wearing the veil. Last time I was in there nekkid, I noticed that my ass really does look like the moon. And I'd better do something to reduce its circumference before developers move in and start building space stations.

3. Feed the hungry.

I'm going to start with myself. I'm going to live dangerously! I'm going to experience hunger! To exist without nibbling on random things all the goddamned time. "Nibble, nibble, like a mouse, who's that nibbling in my house?" Really, I've got to stop before the exterminators get me.

4. Tell the truth.

I started by telling the school social worker that if the kid who was bugging my son the last day of school continued to bug him, I was going to rip his tonsils out. It's a start, but I need to work up to the full "fuck off!"

5. Become better educated.

I really need to watch more television. Honestly, I'm sure I would get a lot more out of Go Fug Yourself if I knew who the people were.

And of course:

6. Do something for humanity every day.

I'm going to spend way more time blogging.

6., part deux. Always use spell check before posting.

It's good entertainment. Mine just suggested I replace the word "blogging" with "flogging."

Ha! I wish.

--P.