Nice Doggy…

We had a yard sale this morning.

Apparently this is the weekend for this type of thing. We got out there early – really early and had people all morning.

Our neighborhood has great walking paths – there’s always folks out with their babies or dogs or both.

Now…before I begin the rest of this post…let me be clear. There’s one thing that I usually don’t discuss with people. No, not religion or politics or money – I have no problem talking about that stuff (as long as you’re a grown-up and not secretly angry).

What I’m talking about is a subject near and dear to many people’s hearts. I’m talking about pets.  Pets. Specifically, my non-love for/of them. My complete un-need for pets. I know. I’m a monster.  I don’t stroke, coo, or otherwise touch them. Do I wish them harm? No! NO! I love that you love pets. Dogs, cats, birds, whatever. Good for you. It’s just not my thang.

My husband is a cat person. He’s had and loved cats his whole life. He’s made our children cat people too.  And we have one. Lexi, a very pretty Calico. Before her we had a very street smart, rat-turned-cat that my husband found behind a dumpster in the Bronx named Virgo.  I’ve posted pics before.  I offer this not as an excuse, but merely as part of my history.

Back to the yard sale.

As I said, we set up early for all the hardcore “buyers” who troll the neighborhood at 6am. During the course of the morning, we met many of our near and far neighbors. Some were curt and all business – nodding and forging ahead. But many were super friendly. Stopping to chat and look around.

Many of the awesome folks that stopped had dogs. And inevitably, I felt deep guilt when I didn’t acknowledge the dog. Because you see I know you love that dog. And I think that dog is awful cute. But here’s what happens, when I say something about the dog, like, “oh how cute” or “what a sweetie” or something – all of which I mean sincerely –  you immediately loosen the harness so the dog can come closer and I can pet said dog.

And then….nothing. You get nothing from me. I start stuffing my hands in my pockets. I start fixing my hair. I do anything but pet/stroke/touch the dog.

Awkward.

Because what you don’t know is that I don’t even pet the animals that live in my house.

I blame my parents. We never had pets – until I went away to school – then my family had a pet revolution. Everywhere you looked there was a big, fluffy dog. I missed out.

So you see I appreciate you and your love for the dog/cat/bird/fish – but I’d rather not touch it.

Is that ok?

Am I still a good person?

I’d rather kiss a 100 snotty babies than rub a dog’s belly. I’m a freak.

Not news.

Gaga does Gorga?

It’s been a busy week and I have had no time/energy/ambition to post. I’ve spent a large chunk of time in my car commuting back and forth for work – in fact I’ll be on the road again today!

I usually listen to Howard Stern in my car. If he’s on repeats I listen to CNN or NPR. If nothing’s happening there, I listen to 1010 WINS (those of you in the NY Tri-State area will know what this is. AM radio at it’s best). When I’m tired of hearing about the traffic on the GWB I give in and switch to a music station. Music isn’t always my go-to (my daughter and husband are screaming at the screen right now) – sorry.

During one of those music moments this week I heard Lady Gaga’s new song, Applause...


I’m not crazy about it. You know why? It sounds an awful lot like another song. A song by one of my horrible reality show Housewives. Last year, in the New Jersey edition, Melissa Gorga came out with this hot mess called On Display...


If you brave it through both songs, and it’s hard to do, you’ll notice they are very much alike. The main is chorus is the same!! No? Is it me? Have I just been trapped in my car for too long?

Loose Moral Compass

 

I saw a lady litter.

I was at a stop sign around the block from my house.  She was pushing an expensive baby stroller and wearing a cute outfit.  She finished a bottle of water and then threw it behind the sign for our neighborhood.

I couldn’t believe it.

She must have seen me see her.

I was right there. She didn’t care.

She just threw the empty bottle and kept walking. I should have honked my car. Or shouted out to her.  But I’m a chicken shit and I just sat there. Watching.

I imagine her doing all sorts of awful things and not caring.  Not tipping enough. Not recycling.  Returning outfits that she already wore. Never washing her hands after she uses the bathroom.

She’s probably a liar too.

On my way home I stopped and picked up the bottle.

It was a Fiji water. Now I’ll be thinking about her every time I see a bottle.

That poor baby.

 

 

It’s a Jeep thing

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So my husband started a new job a few months ago and now he has to drive about 30 miles to work each way. Against my better judgement I’ve given my fuel/environment friendly Subaru to him, and in return, I get to drive around his beloved Jeep.

It’s pretty cool. Really good sound system. IF I wanted to blast the music I could. It’s in my favorite color of all time, and because its never seen a pool or beach pick-up or 7 hour trip to Vermont – it’s shiny and clean. Bonus – according to my daughter, it makes me look BA. You know. Bad ass.

The only slightly annoying part of driving around this car is the hand waving I have to do. Are you familiar with this? Do you know that every time one Jeep passes another Jeep they wave at each other? It’s part of the cult…er…culture. No, not like a mother-sending-a-kid-on-the-bus wave – this is a cooler, smaller gesture. It’s unspoken communication between the two drivers that says,” any minute now I could leave this Target parking lot and head right up a mountain. Or drive through a river” or something.

It’s all very stressful.

First of all I can’t get the timing right. By the time I pass another Jeep and see that person waving it’s too late. Then I feel bad. Shameful. I’m letting them down. All of them.

Then the times I remember and the other person doesn’t wave back I obsess. Why didn’t they wave back? Do they know I’m a fraud? Do they see my Subaru soul?

And there are a LOT of freaking Jeeps in our town. A ton. There’s constant waving, threats of waving, post-waving guilt happening every time I leave the house. It’s exhausting.

I know Volvo people are freaks too. But at least they keep their freak flag to themselves.

On a side note – my husband has admitted to waving at a few Jeeps from the Subaru out of habit. That made me feel better.

Should have taken the train

Happy Friday

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Monumental

We took a quick trip to DC after Easter – literally.  As in we cleaned up, packed leftovers, said goodbye to our family and hit the road.

My husband and I have both been to DC often, but just for work. From train to conference room to train. This was an all out tourist trip.

We landed in the  capital at the stroke of 11pm. After miles and miles and miles of traffic, here’s what we saw heading into our hotel. Pretty friggin cool.

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For the next two days we traveled by trolley, monument to monument, museum to museum.

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It was cherry blossom festival time but a late snow meant no blooming trees (actually there were a couple but we couldn’t see them with all the Japanese tourists surrounding them. True story).

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This is Julia Child’s kitchen. Recreated spoon by spoon at the Smithsonian. This was my favorite monument in all of DC. Cluttered. Utilitarian. Completely unMartha. It was awesome.

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Thanks Easter bunny.

You must have a really good camera

Ever notice that people usually say you have a nice camera when they see a photo they like? This cracks me up. Maybe it’s my incredibly talented eye. Or my amazing sense of lighting and mood? Hee hee.

Here are some photos taken with a camera phone, a Nikon, a Kodak disposable, and an old school Polaroid camera. Betcha you can’t figure out which is which is which. And really, who cares.

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Things that make you go….f**##%@!

Not a post. Just a thought.

Unless a store runs out of gifts (aka merchandise) – they should not run out of gift boxes.

To all those stores who try to “sell” me a box….for shame. FOR SHAME!!!

(I know many sad things have happened in our world and this is nothing. But I need to focus on something or else I’ll go mad!)

While the cat’s away…

My sister and my parents watched my babies while we went on our European adventure.

We knew to expect the usual. We expected my daughter to go phone crazy. We knew our boy would ignore all bedtimes. There would be no “chores” – I put that in quotes because they hardly exist when we’re around.

We knew they’d get away with a certain amount of stuff, and you know what, that was fine.

We should have known better.

Our girl is not the real issue. Yes there’s ridiculous amounts of social media consumption – but whatever. The boy. He needs to be watched. All the time. 24/7.

A few years ago we left them with my parents for a weekend.  When we came back my mother told me about what a great host my son was. As soon as we left, he took them (my very traditional, old-fashioned Indian parents), on a tour of all the alcohol at our house. “Here’s the beer, here’s the wine…” etc.

There was another time when a good friend of mine called the house and he answered and told her that my husband and I were in the other room having an argument. Awesome.

So we should have known better.

Quick back ground: a couple of years ago my car was stolen. It was traumatic, scary, etc. but we got over it.  We decided not to tell my already paranoid mother and instead told her that I got a new car. End of story.

Guess what bedtime tale he told her, in gory detail, while we were away?

Sigh.

I asked him why he felt the need to talk about that and he said,”I was bored.”

Sigh.

I would be angry if he wasn’t so darn cute.

 

The Incident

 

Insert “Law & Order” music…..

7:30pm.  Thursday night.  8-year-old boy comes into the house sheepishly.  Whispers in his mother’s ear to come out to the driveway.  Mother, still traumatized by the glitter quietly follows.  Her son leads her to the car, her new car. At first it looks like a reflection.  Then she opens the door of said car and stares. The boy is saying “sorrysorrysorrysorrysorrysorry”  The mother doesn’t even ask what happened.

    plus     equals…..

 

    

All those involved have been brought to justice.

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