i don't need therapy, at least, not for this

I have a mysterious neighbor. They are hardly ever at their house. Supposedly they have a cabin somewhere and they spend A LOT of their time there. They also drive two Hummers. Yup, you read that right, two. Otherwise, though, they seem like nice, normal people. When they're around. While fetching my mail the other day a noticed the wife in the front yard and said hello because I am curious about the mystery family and want to get the scoop. No real scoop was attained but while we were chatting, I asked if I could have cuttings of the beautiful roses that were starting to go wild in her yard. She informed me that they were planning to take them out, and if I would come get them, I could have them. I am a sucker for free roses so over the weekend I went trotting down the street with my shovel and Tommy's little red wagon. These roses were planted when the house was built about 15 years ago. That is also possibly the last time they were trimmed, needless to say, they were not easy to remove. Not at all. I broke our shovel in the endeavor, but I succeeded. I brought them home where I spent hours, trimming and splitting the plants. I then spaced them in between my heirloom cuttings, fed watered and fertilized them, because I am a good rose mommy. I ended up with eleven new rose bushes. And now I look like a cutter. Seriously, when I went to the pharmacy today I caught the lady staring at my butchered arms. I have to take my kid to the pediatrician tomorrow and I am planning a pre-emptive explanation so he doesn't call CPS to report my self-mutilation. Maybe next summer, I can bring him a big bunch of roses.

Note-It is very difficult to take photos of your own arms, so you'll have to enjoy this lovely photo of what I hope to have growing along my fence next June and use your imagination to picture my injuries.

upswing

Someone I love has had a difficult year. For a time, when I would see her, her smile never extended to her eyes and they were often swollen from crying. As of late when I see her, her eyes are shining and she is almost glowing. I am sure that her life is not perfect and there are still things that make her sad, but, while she has always been lovely, she is more beautiful lately then I have ever seen her. My heart is overjoyed to see it.

unfortunately, I was the entertainment

Today was my birthday. My beloved did all that he could to make it lovely. He made muffins in the morning, watched the kids during yoga, chased Johnny at the soccer game and even went to fabric store with me. I can't prove it, but I'm pretty sure it was the first time he has ever been to fabric store in his life. This evening the sitter arrived promptly at 7:30 and we headed out to dinner. The vegetarian place had great entrees, but the dessert menu was not quite what we were looking for so we headed to the place that has flour less chocolate cake as a staple. We were seated in a raised booth not to far from the live jazz ensemble right in the center of the action. The hostess had mistakenly handed us regular menus so I volunteered to go and request the dessert list. I stood up and headed towards the hostess stand, except remember how I said we were seated in a raised booth? I forgot about that part and went sprawling onto the floor. I, of course, curtsied prettily to my laughing audience and gracefully continued on my errand. I remember thinking when I was a clumsy, gawky thirteen-year-old that some day I would be a grown woman, elegantly and polished. Apparently, at 32, I am not there yet. Yeesh.

fine, i surrender

Yesterday I bought a new pair of earrings in my very favorite shade of blue. I bought them from my new friend Summer who is a jewelry maker. Her stuff is big and bright and I love it. (watch for a link to her new Etsy store next week) I couldn't wait to wear them. Last night I ironed my brown poplin dress and laid out my double bow ballets in the exact same blue (oh, joy!). Today was to be a very important day. Johnny would spend the morning with the sitter and I would attend preschool with Tommy. We woke to a torrential downpour that just wouldn't quit. I was undaunted. I put on my light, cotton dress and suede shoes (under my yellow slicker, of course) and off we went. By the time we finished preschool, our special lunchdate and a quick trip to procur new soccer shoes for one who has suddenly outgrown them mid-season I was damp and freezing. Instead of projecting carefree and whimsical mom-on-the-go, as was my aim, I think I probably just looked like a stupid person who neglects to look out the window prior to dressing in the morning. When we finally got home I slipped into jeans, a long-sleeved t-shirt and a big, thick sweater. I completed my outfit with non-matching sweater socks because I think that, for today at least, function must lead form. Otherwise I could end up with hypothermia.

justification

On Monday I started the phase 1 of the South Beach Diet. For the uninitiated that means I get to eat almost no carbs or fat or anything else good. I am only willing to do this because it totally works for me and I have gained almost ten pounds(!) since my stupid surgery and I can't stand it one second longer. This excess fat is going away and if I have to live on turkey bacon and celery to make that happen, so be it. My diet issues are not, however, the focus of today's post. Tonight I cheated on my new diet. Once I really commit, I hardly ever cheat, but tonight I don't even feel slightly guilty. I had an appointment with the famous Olga this evening and was trying to get the kids dinner on the table before I went so my mother-in-law, Diane wouldn't have to do much. Ty, of course, was working late and she sweetly volunteered to babysit so that I wouldn't have to reschedule. As I was cutting the oranges I sliced my thumb wide open. I went running out to the driveway to get a medical opinion from my doc friend Amanda before they pulled out (they were just leaving after a playdate). She opined that as long as I could get the bleeding stopped, I probably wouldn't need stitches. Super. Off I went to my appointment, and let me tell you, a bikini wax doesn't hurt near as much as usual when your thumb is throbbing and you are holding a paper towel to it tightly in order to avoid getting blood all over the place. Afterwards I rushed over to Ty's office to drop off his dinner, still holding the paper towel and headed home to make my own meal. It was totally impossible to cut my squash in half while keeping pressure on my still bleeding wound so I asked my lovely mother-in-law to help me out. Guess what happened, go ahead, guess. That's right, while cutting my squash she also sliced her hand wide open. It was obvious even to me, the layman, that her injury definitely needed stitches and since mine was still bleeding after 2 hours, I decided to go with her. The doc and nurses all thought we were hilarious and, honestly, so did we. I only needed one stitch to get the flow down to an ooze and she needed three. At any rate, on the way home I stopped and got a pita and a chocolate milkshake because, after all of that, I needed it.