Monday, July 16, 2007

Simpsons theme music

I've been whistling The Simpson's theme music since my husband got home and I've been looking wistfully at the clock. I think that means I can't wait for couch time.

Not a bad day really, just full of the important/unimportant stuff that keeps you humming. For instance, and forgive me if I've used the joke here before, but my wide-leg trousers have been feeling like straight-leg jeans for some time so I'm back at the gym with a vengeance, hip pain, elbow pain be damned. This made cleaning the floors and carpets, which had been ignored for probably two weeks now a tougher and longer job than it would normally be.

And yet, maybe each time after will tougher and longer--that is after all how the aging process works, isn't it?

There's been a discussion on the lost art of being a handyman going around the Internet lately and being married to one I can chime in. As an unhandywoman, a store-bought woman really, I'm a bit of a nervous nelly when my husband gets a notion to do something, a notion say like... moving the fireplace from one wall to another, so that we can open up the kitchen.

It's a small house and it gets smaller every time we draw a new line on the wall to mark the kids' growth, but I think we'll be here for a while, as home values don't triple in North Texas like they do in other parts of the country, despite what I see as our major selling point--really friendly neighbors, who only invite you to their church once.

My husband complained over dinner tonight about how tired he was and that he couldn't figure out why, seeing as how he didn't do much this weekend. Dear, I said, you've forgotten that you worked on fixing your car, began the install of a radio into the '74 Ford pickup, mowed the lawn, watched the kids while I was at the gym, took them to Best Buy, took the family out to lunch, argued with me over wall color for the kitchen, shopped for samples at Home Depot and made a solid attempt at cooking dinner Sunday night after I brought home a trout--head, tail and all, after you specifically told me not to bring an entire fish, that you only wanted a fillet (note to readers: I am fish illiterate and didn't realize a one-pound trout would only yield a third of a pound of meat to eat; I also didn't know how hard it would be to fillet, and readers, do you know the price of filleted sea-bass these days? You'd have done the same thing!), and then took us out to dinner instead.

Tonight our three-year-old made his usual every-other-night protest about wanting mom to put him to bed instead of dad. His sister did the same thing when she was three, only it was over who was to make her a peanut butter sandwich. It's a funny phase they go through at this age.

Tomorrow, I am up early because I have been invited by a friend to a networking breakfast of local professionals. She told me to be sure to have a business card handy and gave me the name of a company that prints them for free, though on the back they advertise their own name.

My card reads "Freelance Writing, Editing, Etc." I hope someone asks me about the "Etc." It will give me the opportunity to make up a complete fabrication at a moment's notice about what other things I'll do for pay--taxes, home decor, skin care or stock analysis.

When my mom was a young woman, she liked to make up elaborate stories about herself and keep them going for a good thirty minutes with friends at a malt shop or over a beer. At the end of the thirty minutes, she'd let them in on her little joke. When she told me that I told her about the time I was at a gay bar with a gay friend and we spent the evening convincing the only (allegedly) straight guy there that I used to be a man. He was really annoyed with our joke. I mean, really.

But Mom got a big laugh out of it.

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Blogger Dana said...

How could you forget? For heavens sake, get those cards out and add 'International Beauty' and 'Style Guru' - do you not realize how many are out there that need your expertise?!

btw, love your mom's stories.

Now I see where her daughter got the saucy wit from.

10:38 PM  
Blogger kcatmull said...

that is a great story about the gay bar--I'd never heard it. You are so like Mom that way; I can never pull that stuff off.

BTW I read that sentence (three times!) as "She told me to be sure to have business hard candy" and was thinking 'Wow, that is really odd advice but what do I know, I don't network.'

9:34 AM  
Blogger Nancy said...

get those cards out and add 'International Beauty' and 'Style Guru'

I can't believe I didn't think of that!

'Wow, that is really odd advice but what do I know, I don't network.'

Eh, probably would have been better with hard candy--at least more popular.

10:38 AM  
Blogger Mike LaRoche said...

I'm probably the world's worst networker. Well, maybe except for Toby Young.

2:26 PM  

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