Category Archives: Martini Madness

August 24, 2014 · 9:30 am

Where the Hell Have You Been, Pony Pants?

Hello, friends! You’re probably wondering where the hell I’ve been and are, frankly, a little insulted that I have been largely absent except for the occasional swoop-and-poop on the interwebs.

I have returned to offer a mea maxima culpa and beg for your forgiveness. Not that any of these things are more important than you are, but here’s a peek at what I’ve been up to.

1. I was in a wedding. My bestest friend and the godmother to my little beasts got married, and for some reason she thought it would be a really good idea to have me in her wedding. We’ve been friends for 12 years (we met at birth obviously) and you’d think she would know by now that I am a chronically late train wreck, good only for make-up tips and bringing magnums of Chardonnay. Either she forgot that, or my sparkling personality blinds her to my faults. Thank God there was a type-A maid of honor to carry the team.

2. My husband works too much. Every summer I go through the same thing. My husband’s work kicks up and he has to stay late doing stuff I really don’t get, but I pretend to, so I don’t look like a heartless strumpet. This means I am a single mom, just trying to survive being eaten alive by two demanding kids, luxuriating in the silence their sleep brings. When he is home, I am trying to connect with him, and by connect I mean ravage, because a girl has needs, you know?

3. I quit my job. Sadly, it wasn’t something worthy of a viral video when I did give notice. I know some people burn their bridges and salt the soil where the bridge supports were placed, but I actually liked the people I worked with. Well, most of them because there are always a few who make you want to poke your eyes out with a spoon rather than have to deal with them. Most of the stress came in wrapping everything up in a neat little bow, because obviously the company is going to crumble without me there. At least that’s what my ego thinks.

4. I am writing, or pretending to. I have you fabulous friends, and I contribute to BLUNTmoms (they are also snowed by my sparkling personality). I’m also trying to get my attempts at stringing sentences together published in a few anthologies, and they have deadlines at the end of the month. Seriously, if this doesn’t work out, I’ll be one sad puppy. So, get your tissues ready; I’ll need you guys.

5. There was a great migration of the elderly. My parents decided to retire and bought a house within spitting distance of mine. While it brings great joy (new babysitters!), it also brings stress (um, you want me to put that bookcase where?). Thankfully they are getting settled and only need The Hubs to do some heavy lifting. They can use him and I get a free meal out of it. It’s a big win for everyone. Except for my husband, who may end up in traction.

So, you see, I am simply a victim of circumstance. Or poor planning. Maybe both. Anyway, I am going try to be better about hanging out with y’all cause I love each and every one of you. Except for you, creepy stalker guy.

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August 14, 2014 · 11:17 pm

Once Upon A Time…

Tonight, I struggled for too long with my computer, trying to install Photoshop Elements, and then trying to connect my phone to the computer so I could play with the photos in my new program.

Was I successful? Oh, hell no. It sucked. A lot. Nothing worked correctly and now I am frustrated and grumpy. Instead of making magic with Elements, and possibly making my first earth shattering meme, I have decided to write a fairytale based on my misadventures.

Once upon a time, there was a young woman who found a magical disk rumoured to hold the secret of how to make an ordinary portrait exceptional, in no time at all.

Intrigued, the woman took the disk back to her cottage and began to study it. In order to truly understand everything contained within the disk, she needed a steel box which could see into the center of the disk and translate its mysteries.

Fairytale cottage

The fair maiden’s cottage. Maybe.

Did she have one? No. Seriously? What she had was new and shiny, but no magical steel box. Would it take a village of tiny elves to get everything to work?

Stymied, she spoke to a local wizard who knew where to procure the steel box she needed. He brought it to her, and there was much rejoicing.

Short-lived rejoicing.

The box, although effective, was slow; powered by turtles slathered in molasses. The turtles worked as hard as the could turning the gears that made the box work its dark magic.

Eventually, all of the turtles died, but not before finally unlocking the secrets of the disk.

Again there was rejoicing. And again it was short-lived.

Now that she had access to the power of the disk, she had nothing to use it on. There were no mythical images for her to enhance.

Cursing the gods loudly, she reached for her wineskin, but it was of cold comfort. Frustration rolled through her.

Then, a bolt of inspiration struck the nape of her neck and sizzled along her spine. She had a box of images just waiting to be revealed, but how would the ever make it out of their tiny little container?

Many, many failed attempts later… the woman threw her equipment across the room and gave up.

The wineskin brought more comfort and a gentle inspiration for a fractured fairytale. Perhaps tomorrow will be better, or maybe there will just be more wine, chocolate, and song.

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August 5, 2014 · 4:47 pm

Friendship is the Perfect Blendship

Over the weekend, I was very proud to be part of the wedding of my best friend. So, when I saw the Tuesday Ten prompt to share 10 things you love about your best friend, I could think of no one more appropriate.

I met her 12 years ago when we were young pups working at the local NBC 4 station; she as an upstart producer, and me as a clueless web writer. We bonded over the things that bring young women together; politics and social issues.

Actually, it was purses. Kate Spade to be precise.

Friendship

And psychiatrists don’t usually have wine.

We have been friends ever since, through breakups, my marriage, the subsequent babies, new jobs, new boys, and, as always, shopping adventures. Through it all she has been like a sister to me, and I hope she would say the same about me.

I can call her at any hour. Once, I thought my husband was dead because he was out late. And, by late I mean he said he was going out or Happy Hour, and ended up staying out until the bars closed without ever answering his phone. Before calling every hospital and prison in the area, I called my friend. At midnight. She was reassuring, supportive, and even offered to kick his ass when he came rolling in around 3.

We can be honest when we’re shopping. Hideous outfit? Accessories too off-trend? We will tell each other, and even go as far as to rip heinous articles of clothing off each other’s bodies. No friend of mine will wear coral and mint chevron palazzo pants.

Being there for each other. When she broke up with her boyfriend, I sent chocolate, love, and a sympathetic ear. I then willingly took him back into the friendship circle when he realized he was idiot and begged my friend for forgiveness. And she forgives me when I arrive 10 minutes late. For everything. All the time.

Wine, delicious wine. We both enjoy a glass of Chardonnay, and have introduced each other to yummy brands whenever we discover them. And we’re never too shy to offer to bring some wine over when we hang out.

She likes my kids. I mean, I kind of hope she would since she is their godmother, but she doesn’t have to. Anyone who thinks my kids are awesome, is OK in my book.

We are ridiculously hot. Before your mind goes too far into the gutter, she is beautiful, smart and stylish, just like me. Together we are an unbeatable combo, and push each other to heights of fashion excellence. Seriously, if she’s rocking some quatrefoil, I may end up purchasing some for myself. And I have a feeling her fabulousness in a scarf is due to my positive influence.

Organization, discipline, and a plan. In another life she would have made a highly effective General. As one who is often in a tornado of disorder and chaos, she is like an oasis with her executive decisions, schedules, and anal-retentive structure. I used to be this way, and maybe she will inspire me to be that way again. Or, maybe not. That sounds too tiring.

Epic road trips. Cherry blossoms, wine, and a little March Madness in the nation’s capital. Plus, she makes an excellent cuddle buddy when we have to share a bed.

We rock out. Hard. A few years ago we channeled our late 80s and early 90s selves and headed to the NKOTBSB concert. Amidst a sea of like-minded women, we sang along with every pop ballad from our childhood, drank a goodly amount of beer, laughed way too hard, and sighed over the former Hottie McHotpantses that don’t look exactly like the golden gods they were in our youth.

A wicked sense of humor. My bestie seems so very straightlaced and rigid on the surface, but underneath, she is a hilarious woman who loves mob movies and Mitch Hedberg. It’s one of the reasons I love her; she is a constant source of surprise.

See? She is supercalifragilisticexpiaolodociously wonderful. I can’t guarantee that we’ll be friends forever, but I know that I’ll be poorer spiritually if we aren’t.

In closing, I will leave you with a quote that I know would get a giggle out of my friend. “Is it a hippopotamus or a really cool opotamus?” It’s a little something to ponder with your own compatriot.

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July 20, 2014 · 9:54 pm

A Pony On Tour

Hello friends! I am going on a tour, and I don’t even need to leave my couch. This will be the best vacation ever.

I was invited on this tour by Liz and her charming daughter, Zoe. Zoe is a lot like my daughter; smart, mischievous, and sure to be trouble when she’s a teenager.

Her adventures, or mis-adventures as it were, are chronicled on Zoe vs. the Universe. Some favorites include Zoe taking on Doc McStuffins (or, doctoring to be precise) and Potty Training. I’ll wait while you read and enjoy.

Back? Good. Now, I get to answer four questions and then pass the baton onto some other bloggers that you will enjoy just as much as you love me and Zoe.

1. What am I working on? As lame as it might sound, I am working on my blog. I just started writing in January, and I am still getting the hang of social media and building my audience (hi, mom!). For reasons not known to me, I have been adopted by the BLUNTmoms and featured on Mamapedia. It’s humbling and awesome and I hope they don’t figure out I am a fraud.

2. How does my work differ from others of its genre? It’s funnier, more insightful, and… that’s all rubbish. What I offer are dynamic, witty stories with a lot of dogs, kids, and insanity. How am I different? Um… I talk about poop and wine more than other writers?

3. Why do I write/create what I do? When I was a child, I was never without a book; just like Amy Carter. Books transported me to Walnut Grove, via the Phantom Tollbooth, on a horse named Misty. All of those stories stirred my imagination and I wanted to create my own. I’ve dabbled in poetry, short stories, and, obviously, blogging. Right now, blogging seems to work for me, so I’m going to ride this out for as long as I can.

4. How does your writing/creating process work? My inspiration is all around me. I take notes and brainstorm until I find something that “moves me.” I dash off an initial draft, then tweak, revise, proofread, force my husband to read my writing, then revise some more and publish. Sometimes, what I publish actually resembles what I started out with.

And since everyone is completely bored of me now, I’ll send the blog tour to:

Pam, author of the blog Divorce Doula. She is a Vancouver-based divorced mother of two awesome boys embarking on a respectful, amicable and often humorous co-parenting adventure with their father.*

Cordelia, the Multilingual Mama, is a writer, researcher, multilingual homeschooling mother, former sailing instructor, with a past in environmental science and social innovation.*

Shawna is a mom of 2.5 babies, blogging over at the Dovetail Blog. She describes herself as a huge nerd who takes way too many pictures of her kids.*

And the final stop is with Kim, at Two Bugs and a Blog. She is on a mission to share the good, bad and ugly side of parenting.*

*Bios shamelessly stolen from their websites.

Visit, read, and share. Tour your little hearts out!

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July 12, 2014 · 10:45 am

Date Night is Not My Bag

Last night, my husband and I had a night out on the town without kids and I had an epiphany; I am not a fan of date night.

Hold back your horror. I’ll explain. I absolutely love spending time with my husband. He’s smart, funny, and wicked sexy. It’s all of the other trappings of date night that I don’t enjoy.

First, there’s getting ready. I gave myself a pedicure, because my hooves were looking rough and I didn’t want to expose them to the world without at least sandblasting the callouses.

Then, I spent a good 10 minutes debating the merits of showering and shaving my legs. I had taken a power yoga class that afternoon and I think I last shaved about…. well, see that’s my dilemma. I have no clue when I shaved last. I also spent additional time sniffing my shirt to see if I could get away with wearing it for a few more hours.

Date night with a cat

This is the kind of date night I can get behind.

In the end, I didn’t shower or shave, but I did change shirts, apply a fresh layer of makeup and engulfed myself in a cloud of perfume. I looked pretty good, if I do say so myself. And I am almost 100 percent certain I didn’t stink. Okay, maybe 95 percent.

I had secret hopes that my husband would travel from work on one side of the town and then drive me, but, alas, I was forced to drive my own carriage.

You know, my husband is usually pretty chivalrous, but in this instance he failed me. I wanted to gaze upon him adoringly without children asking me for water or goldfish. I also wanted to enjoy a martini or two, and you can’t exactly do that when you are driving.

We ended up at a comedy club and had a blast. The comedian was inappropriate and awesome. And there were mozzarella cheese sticks. The sticks were my favorite part.

And it was all downhill from there.

Afterward, my husband wanted to go out and get crazy. I wanted to go home and pop some corn and watch Orange is the New Black. You can see how this might have caused some conflict.

After a long day of work and kids, I feel like I have been beaten like a circus monkey. Getting me to a comedy club is probably the most you can get out of me. If I could wear my jammies to the club, I might think about extending the night, but since I can’t, well, my couch wins out every time.

My poor husband. All he wants is to feel like a man instead of a kid-toting donkey.

I tried to rally and he offered to drive to the casino on the other end of town. And what did I do? I fell asleep. At 10:30. I suck at dates.

There has to be something in between couch surfing and partying until 2 AM. I don’t know what that is, but until I figure it out, I’ll be in my jammies trying to figure out how to make things up to my husband.

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June 25, 2014 · 8:22 pm

Woman on the Warpath

My enemies have invaded every corner of my home, and I vow to seek each and every one out and destroy them. I’ll do it with my bare hands if I have to.

What has driven me to murder, you might ask? Picnic ants. Those vile arthropods.

picnic ant

I will smite thee!

Every year, summer brings a horde of tiny ants into my home. I vanquish them with defensive spray around the outside of my domicile and that’s the end of it.

This year was different. The ants were obviously shot with gamma radiation over the winter and turned into Hulk ants.

Ant traps couldn’t stop them. They laughed at the traps and did the electric slide on them. When I sprayed them with Lysol, they rolled in the liquid and wore it as cologne. Then those clean smelling bastards crawled through my dishwasher, so I washed them away like my sins. They walked across my counter and I crushed them with a paper towel, twisting them into nothing more than tiny thoraxes and legs.

I still failed. They found the honey stains on my countertops, glasses of milk I left out, and horror of all horrors; they ruined the jelly doughnuts my mother bought for the family.

My campaign intensified, and I tried to sneak up on the ants to murder them. I also left some of their corpses on the counter to send a message to the other ants that they were not welcome. Finally, I dressed up as one of them in order to follow them back to their colony and annihilate them in their own home.

Okay, that last part was a lie, but I did consider it.

Then, they performed the ultimate humiliation. I opened my cupboard, and I heard them. There were so many of them running over the lollipops I keep in there, they crinkled the wrappers. I even saw one of their heads pop out from within the lollipop.

THEY WERE ON MY LOLLIPOPS! I BRIBE MY KIDS WITH THOSE!

Anger welled up inside me, and I completely lost my shit. The lollipops were thrown out (you owe me ant colony!) and I grabbed the Lysol. There was none left. I almost lit a match to burn the pests out. I thought better of it and grabbed the Glade air freshener instead. I sprayed the cupboard, focusing on the ants. They coughed, sputtered, and threw all six legs up in the air. They couldn’t survive the lavender goodness of Glade. Muwahahaha! Victory was mine at last!

You may say I overreacted, but I say I took down an enemy that was threatening my home, my family, and my lollipops. And if they decide to return, I’ll be ready with some Glade and a paper towel.

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