Rumpty Dumpty

It was inevitable that I would eventually write about poop.  

After all, the word is part of the name of my blog.  I have written about periods here, and surgery here, and gas here; but only touched on the “poop” subject here.

However, this story rocketed to the top of my “stuff to blog about” list when my husband called me at work with a tale that needed to be told. 

Apparently there’s a light out in the bathroom he normally uses at work.  He found that out when he went to use the facilities and there was no response when he flicked the light switch.

Since he had to go, however, and since he was already there (and his bladder somehow recognized that he was near a toilet) he needed to use THAT bathroom.  Right then.  Immediately.  Thinking quickly, he whipped out his trusty 3G Droid smart phone, upon which his thoughtful wife (that’s me) had installed a flashlight app.  Thanks to the bright light of his phone screen, he was able to find the toilet stall in the dark, locate the bowl, remember where everything was and tidy up accordingly, all by holding the phone with its handy flashlight under his chin.

like this. except on your phone.

That day, we had a good laugh over this when he called me to tell me the story and thank me for the app.

Things deteriorated a few days later.  Mr. Forgetful waited until it was almost too late to make his frantic morning jog to the same bathroom referenced above.  This time, however, he was racing against a couple cups of my strong coffee and his morning bran.  He grabbed his phone almost as an afterthought on the off chance he needed to make a phone call, text someone, check the Cubs standings, or for the flashlight app if by some strange circumstance the bathroom light was still out. 

It was.

That’s fine, he thinks, as he struggles to unbuckle and unzip quickly, as he ran in the general direction of the stall door.  I have my fancy phone with the flashlight app.

However, for some reason, despite repeated, desperate attempts to pull up the flashlight app, the app has disappeared and due to extreme gastrointestinal pressure, he gave up trying to get it to work and attempted to go it alone, in the dark.  In all the fumbling with his smart phone trying to get the app to work, though, he has waited a little bit, a tiny bit, a hair too late to get his pants down fully.

It should be noted that on the best of days, he is not Mr. Technology.  Under pressure, however, his difficulty with smart phones is exponentially worse. 

If this were a bad script, I would at this point write “hilarity ensues” but in all actuality he didn't find this at all hilarious, as he was forced to go to the bathroom in the dark, then attempt to clean up after himself in the dark.  Between you and me, reader, he has a difficult enough time when it’s his OWN bathroom, with sufficient lighting to rival the sun and a brand new container of baby wipes. 

In the dark, cold, empty bathroom at work, he does the best he can under the third world circumstances. 

He is forced to make the drive of shame home and change pants, losing yet another pair of undershorts to such an ordeal which, praise God, seldom occurs.

Kids, need a gift idea for Dad for Father's Day?

Luckily, the badly mutilated underwear in question went directly into the garbage because otherwise if yours truly was sorting the white clothes I would have assumed he came face to face with a Yeti.

sort of like this one, which would make ANYONE crap their pants.

Later, he also told me that the majority of the bathroom accident from hell occurred because of two things:  a) the fact that he fucked around so long trying to get his flashlight app to work that he almost lost control right then and there on the floor and b) because of the low lighting from his cell phone screen he sat down on the bowl at the wrong angle and needless to say, not all the “kids” got dropped off at the pool.

He showered four or five times that night, just to make sure.

A few days ago, he visited the same washroom, which now has a working light and Joe was not only able to seat himself comfortably at the correct angle, but also have sufficient light with which to cleanse himself afterward.

 Lucky for him and his underwear drawer.  (and me, and probably the Yeti too.)

Blackhawks and blinders. How much fun can a human possibly have?

A while back, my stepsister Michelle asked my husband and I if we'd like to accompany her and her boyfriend Guy to a Blackhawks game.

Not just any Blackhawks game, though...this one was in a suite.  A penthouse suite.
Yeah, we're that cool.  Well, at least we know someone who's that cool.

We drove in from Rockford to pick both of them up, leaving our car in Willowbrook and proceeding into the big city.

Our first stop was at Frank's.  For those of you who don't know what that is, it's a shrimp house.  While in the car, our hosts decided that one pound of the fried shrimp would be adequate, especially if there would be food in the suite.  Joe and Guy went in while Michelle and I chatted in the car, and soon they were back with an enormous sack each of the biggest, best fried shrimp I have ever eaten in my entire life.

Thanks, you two, for ruining any other fried shrimp for me.  Forever.

After that, Michelle and I were instructed to close our eyes and keep them that way for the duration of the trip.  Why?  To protect us from the trauma that is his driving.  We heard several times on the way to the United Center, "Don't look.  Don't look."  When I dared to look I realized we were driving a six foot wide car down a five foot wide path.  How we managed to avoid knocking off our side mirrors or the side mirrors of other drivers, I'll never know.  Because I wasn't looking.

Once at the United Center, with our too-cool-for-school parking pass, we accepted the free Blackhawks binder given to us via binder night.  We then took the elevator up to the penthouse suites, found ours, and OH MY GOSH.

It was the most amazing thing.  Michelle greeted our host, while we all stared goggle eyed at the scene before us.



We're not in Kansas anymore.  We're much higher than that.

And food?  There was a hot dog station, a nacho station, an Italian beef station, and all the beer you could drink.  Mixed drinks.  And don't even get me started on the dessert cart, but I'll just say this...I had a turtle the size of a hamburger patty.  And it was delicious.
Going to the railing overlooking the rink was a little off putting for me, as I have some weird type of reaction to heights, i.e. I feel as if I'm being pulled off my seat by my crotch for a quick trip off the railing headfirst.  A quick consult with the sister found that she had the same problem.  I'm glad I'm not alone.



I couldn't actually take a picture looking straight down without gagging.  This is as close as you're going to get.

The Blackhawks won, of course. 

actual proof.

The game was amazing.  The company awesome.  The food delish. 


actual hockey players, although from our vantage point, they looked like black ants as opposed to Blackhawks.

The only fly in the ointment was sitting in the parking lot after the game waiting for it to clear, watching a carload of white trash punks pick a fight with someone who was not only probably 20 years older than them, but also an off duty police officer.  Who didn't need duct tape to hold up his car windows like the youngsters.

In this day and age of concealed carry, do you really want to pick a fight with a stranger?  I vote no.  Making it more difficult to watch and understand was that the carload of kids only spoke the language "motherfu*ker" and at one point told the police officer "congratulations on living past your prime."  I was certain there would be a shooting and ducked in anticipation.

That same carload of idiots realized they could get through the parking lot by backing up and driving around instead of cutting in front of the cop.  The only problem with that was that we were in the way.  We once again closed our eyes against the certain impending crash, but it never came...although that car was truly less than a half inch from ours.  If my phone battery hadn't died out I would have gladly recorded it for all of you.

Joe and I had such a great time.  Should we be so lucky to go again, I will:  buy more shrimp, wear blinders, and secure myself to a seat with a bungee cord.   Just in case my crotch should pull me over the side.

People can be so nice!



my new stuff almost looks like this.  almost.



So, I ran to Old Navy today, in search of t shirts that didn’t smell like my last twenty workouts and shorts that weren’t coming apart at the seams, like the ones I’ve had and worn for the past four years during the summer. 

Wandering the aisles, I found some colorful, non smelly t shirts and was looking at shorts when this girl snuck up on me and here I was, all ready to do battle with her over the last “Miami Bunny” t shirt in neon lime green, when she just leans over and gives me $20 in Old Navy cash.  She said “I saw that you have quite a few things and I can’t use more than one coupon today, so here’s my other one, today’s the last day of the sale.” 

Then the little fairy godmother scurried away.

Now, I’ve experienced lots of things in various local establishments.  I’ve seen parents yelling at their kids in stores.  I saw a man shoplift not one but two or more bottles of cologne, not ten feet from the cashier, on Christmas Eve.*  I’ve seen certain teenage girls racing around our grocery store playing cart tag and acting more like two ten year olds than 18 and 16…(A & M, I’m talking to you) but this was a new one.

I’ve given people my place in line, and once gave someone a $5 coupon, but this chick topped that by saving me 40% on my new “I’m gonna workout” clothes.  For no reason, other than to be nice. 

So here’s to you, girl with the dark hair who wasn’t actually honing in on the t shirt I wanted.  I’m sure you’re (not) reading this, but I wanted to thank you anyway.  And you’re welcome to that shirt because although I hid it behind my back when you came by so you couldn’t have it, I tried it on and it was too tight in the boobal area.  It’s back on the shelf.

You’re welcome.

*That Christmas Eve thing?  I did tell the manager but since she didn’t see it she couldn’t do anything.  I like to think the gentleman in question got coal in his stocking.

What I did over summer vacation



Despite being wracked with grief over the impending divorce of Katie Holmes from Tom Cruise, we were able to have a lovely Fourth of July*.  Busy?  Yes.  Fun?  Yes.  Family?  Some.  Beer?  Yes.  Oh, yes, please.

Not only did we have today off, about a week ago, after work, Joe and I packed, got our routine “drive” coffees and some candy, and then drove to his sister’s house in Wisconsin, arriving around 7:30 pm.



Yes, we actually stayed here.  It was gorgeous.



There, we met up with two of my husband’s sisters, Anita and Carla, and Joe’s mother Mary.  Also present:  Anita’s boyfriend Ron and Carla’s hubby John.  (Missing:  the last sister Lisa, her three kids, and all three of mine.)  Sadly, work schedules are extremely prohibitive sometimes.  L



Hey, turn around.  I'm taking a picture here.



But I digress.

We were there Thursday through Sunday afternoon.  A typical day consisted of getting up and having coffee, then taking a nice hour long walk looking at the pretty scenery.  It was also very hot.  It is beautiful, too, as you can see.  



Woops, wrong picture.  But still pretty darn cute.



That's better. 

Did I mention it was hot?  By the time we got back, it was almost beer: thirty.  Time to get on the bathing suits and head down to the refreshing water after packing up a cooler and some reading material.  I was able to finish the book “The Litigators” by John Grisham (it was good), and Carla worked on the last book by Stieg Larsson, which I believe is “The Girl with the Tattoo Who Played with the Fiery Hornet’s Nest”.   She recommends it highly. 

We read.  We walked.  We ate.  We laughed.  We floated on our backs, on rafts, on noodles.  We hogged the cookies.  We drank one or two beers.  (cough *an hour* cough)  We played games of Sequence every night before the sun, fresh air, and liquid beverages caught up with us…then woke up to do it all again the next day.

We were on lake time.



A very serene Sunday except for the Loch Ness Monster sighting.

In short, it was an awesome (if somewhat abbreviated) vacation.  Good for the body, good for the soul. 

Not so great for the waistline.  Those vacation calories waited until I was asleep before slapping themselves all over my sunburned self. 

Stay tuned for the next article, tentatively entitled “The Girl Who Lost Weight by Running Away From a Hornet's Nest."

*interesting note.  Tom Cruise also starred in the movie “Born on the Fourth of July.” 

Father's Day Steaks and Deadliest Catch

Father’s Day can be absolutely delicious.

This morning we woke up at a leisurely 9:30 and read the paper together with some strong coffee to get our eyelids open.  Although sometimes it seems as though there’s hardly anything actually IN the Sunday paper, I still love it, with all of the colorful ads of things I like to look at, although not necessarily buy.

After reading and caffeining, we put on our walking shoes and headed over to Baumann Park for a couple of laps; we think it’s about 2.5 miles, maybe a little bit more.  My aching muscles tell me it’s the “maybe a little more” part.

Back to the house for showers.  Joe took some leftover pasta salad and a brat to mama’s house for her dinner, then off to have a beer with friend Steve.  (Hey, it IS Father’s Day.  Who am I to argue?)

Besides, I had some serious errands to run…picking up a prescription, exchanging a shirt at Kohl’s and picking up some serious T Bones at Logli, which I promptly marinated.

Here they are, cooking on the grill:

Here’s the Grillmaster on his special day…I'm sure he's thinking about me...



(Steak. Steak. Steak. Steak.)



Shrooms, lovingly cooked in ½ a beer, 3 tbs of butter, and some garlic powder.  These are quite heavenly piled up high on your T-bone.  Or pretty much right out of the pan.

Of course I'm a fungus.  But I'm a delicious fungus.

And of course, Sunday libations. 



Big Carla, on the right, obvy.  Notice how much bigger mine is than Joe's.



yes, this is "Big Carl."



On Cougartown, Courtney Cox has a wine glass that is the size of a pitcher of Koolaid that she affectionately calls “Big Carl.”  (see above.)

I have my own version that I have affectionately named “Big Carla.”  (More often than not, she is my writing partner.)

Tummies full, we’re catching up on some Deadliest Catch.  Still on the agenda:  cherry cheesecake. 

See?  Father’s Day can be delicious.

Happy Father’s Day to all you dads!!

Coincidence? I think not.

Did you ever leave the house, only to find that you’ve forgotten your keys/purse/phone and had to go back to get them?  Are you ever the only one NOT to get through the green arrow in traffic, annoyed because you’re forced to wait through endless oncoming traffic before you can proceed?

We have all been there.  It’s so very easy to get irritated when you’re running late getting to work or school on time, or trying to get to the show before it starts, or the store before it closes, the repair shop before it closes.  Some people think that the universe must be working against them, trying to keep them from getting there.

My daughter has this theory that the reason you are running behind is that something, or someone, is looking out for you.  Keeping you safe.  Keeping you in one piece.  Looking out for you.

Most people don’t feel very lucky if they are caught behind a train, or oversleep, or lock themselves out of the car at the mall.  In a thunderstorm.  With tired, hungry children.  (Yep, true story.)  It makes people crabby when their lives don’t go exactly as planned.

However, they would quickly change their minds when they finally got that green light, only to shortly thereafter pass a terrible accident they surely would have been a part of.

Or they got home with those same tired, hungry kids…only to see that during that thunderstorm, the tree in the front yard smashed in the roof over the kids’ bedroom, where they would have been napping had Mommy NOT been locked out.

Something’s looking out for you.

Case in point:

You forget your presentation at home…but when you run back to get it, you’re able to unplug the iron.

You oversleep…but are home to call 911 and help when you see the elderly neighbor across the street fall down on the slippery driveway.

You get detained in a long line at the grocery store…but are able to network with a possible employer and get a better job.

It’s all in the timing; there is no such thing as coincidence.

It’s gratifying to watch your children form their own observations about life, and satisfying to hear their reasoning about why things happen the way they do, but it is really cool to see  that they have also learned the fact that sometimes the same thing making you late is the very thing keeping you safe.