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Archive for November, 2008

If you’re not the type of person who enjoys being the center of attention, then I have to advise you not to slip and fall like a cartoon character on the pool deck of a four-star hotel in Las Vegas.

I do hate to be fussed over. So standing around in bikini, half wrapped in a towel and bleeding on a couple of other expensive towels while waiting for the hotel’s EMT, was not the start of a grand Thanksgiving morning or a fantastic end to an anniversary celebration. Three hours and seven stitches later, though, I was back on vacation.

Kudos to the lady behind the towel counter, who didn’t freak out when I started bleeding on her fancy linens. Also kudos to the hotel EMT, who hastily applied a butterfly bandage to my gaping elbow laceration and sent me to the nearest doc-in-a-box for further repair.

Most of all, special thanks to my husband, who despite being way freaked out and worried about me, actually mopped up a little pool of blood when I asked him to (I hated to freak out the other guests). Later, after witnessing my one-handed eating efforts (can’t bend your arm with elbow stitches), he cut up my turkey for me. You can’t buy an anniversary gift like that.

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A Week of Why, Part IV

We’ll just wrap this up:

  • Our piles of books and magazines look so cute together.
  • He encouraged me to buy my dream car, and goes through all kinds of contortions to change the oil.
  • Four words: Still rocking the ponytail.

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The apocalypse nears

I just joined Facebook. Next I’ll be using the word “network” as a verb and accepting the phrase “grow the economy” without my left eye twitching.

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A Week of Why, Part III

The man makes one delicious calzone.

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A Week of Why, Part II

verticalBecause he totally went first during vertical caving class.

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A Week of Why, Part I

In honor of my wedding anniversary this Wednesday, I’ll be posting a week’s worth of reasons of why I’m still married to the guy who showed up 45 minutes late to our first date driving a drafty Volkswagen Vanagon.

Part I
Because last night, while mocking old music videos from the ’80s on YouTube, we had this conversation:

Bill: I’m trying to think of just one more good one. What about “Safety Dance”?
Me: Isn’t that the one with people dressed like they’re at a Renaissance Fair?
Bill: It has midgets.
Me: Oh, hell yeah.

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I hate that a decade of living with near-constant rainfall and annual hurricanes in Mobile, Ala., has ruined thunderstorms for me. I’m always on the lookout for leaky roof shingles or dodgy tree branches instead of enjoying the sound of rain hitting the back deck or watching the lightning.

Stupid Gulf Coast.

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Seriously loving this link from The Root: Five things white folks shouldn’t do now that Obama has won the election.

My favorite is No. 1: “Don’t personally congratulate all your black friends.” Seriously, my black co-workers are bristling with aggravation over such sentiments.

Obama is not THEIR president, he’s OUR president, and he couldn’t have gotten elected without plenty of white votes.

One day, I hope, we won’t be accused of electing a president because he’s black, or in spite of the fact that he’s black. It won’t matter what color he – or SHE – is.

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I’ve been secretly living alone for the past 2.5 weeks. Secretly in deference to my mother and husband, who didn’t think the world should know that I was alone in the house at night.

The husband spent nearly three weeks in New Jersey on business. I spent nearly three weeks being really bad at being single, eating turkey bacon and wheat toast every night for dinner and strewing project papers all over the living room.

In what should have been an ill-advised move, I also watched a couple of horror movies by myself: “The Ring” and “Pet Sematary.” Either I’ve become so jaded that movies don’t scare me anymore, or I just picked the wrong movies (a certainty in the second case).

At any rate, Bill’s back, the living room has been cleared of lit articles and the toaster has been stowed under the cabinet. The pre-Halloween airing of every horror movie ever made is finally over, so no more temptation there.

In short, we’re back the the DINK lifestyle that we’ve come to know and love. I didn’t realize I’d miss it so much.

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