Donkey Show

I am pretty sure that I've seen more than my share of ridiculous shit it my life but as I was driving back from the local convenience store this morning, I noticed a spray-painted sign on the side of the road which read, "Donkey's 4 Sale.  $95". Now, at this point I almost drove off of the road. We live in a somewhat horsey part of town so it's not the barnyard animal thing that threw me for a loop. It was strictly the donkey thing. I don't know as I've ever seen a donkey outside of a petting zoo and I don't think I've visited a petting zoo since that unfortunate incident wherein I was attacked by a runaway goat. We don't like to talk about that. I still don't like anything with a beard. But that's another tale for another day. As luck would have it, I had the opportunity to pass by the same spot a bit later and I'll be damned if there was not a pen with a bunch of donkey's in it. Now, this begs the question, "What in the HELL does one do with a donkey?????" I think I might buy one just because they're only $95. I think it would be funny as hell to have a donkey in my yard. Do donkey's wander? They were pretty cute. I could get a cart for it and ride around my neighborhood peddling my wares. I don't really have any wares but if I had a donkey I sure as shit would get some just to peddle. In fact, maybe I'll buy all of them. I'm worried about what may happen to them if they don't. They could end up in the entertainment business in Mexico. Or worse. Gotta go see a man about an ass. And then I need to buy some donkey's. Will report back. 

Maggiano's

This entry could alternately be titled "The Disgruntled Nine Top". 'Cause that's what we were. You see, as my parents have been in town for the Thanksgiving Holiday, we decided it would be nice to go out en famille before the oldster's hit it back to AZ until the next 'round of togetherness in a few weeks. So my sis-in-law called Maggiano's to make a four o'clock Sunday reservation. I could hear the discussion now.......Mom: "Oh.....let's go to Maggiano's......Dad LOVES Maggiano's". It was confirmed that this is EXACTLY the conversation that lead up to the decision to dine at this family style Italian establishment. Normally I'm not one to eat that early but whatever........we had two old people and three kids, so I wasn't about to protest. We were to all meet up the restaurant prior to our reservation. In a shocking turn of events, MY part of the family was actually early, so we sat at the bar and had a drink. I noticed Dave, who is not the most particular of gentlemen, swipe a used straw and napkin away from him. I would also like to point out that this place was not at all crowded and had a bunch of waitstaff just standing around. Dave actually commented that you would think one of the people walking around would have wiped off the table tops. We chalked this up to an oversight, and when the rest of the family arrived, we were escorted to a large table in the back corner. Now, normally we have had to frequent a joint before they know to stick us in the back and away from the more civilized diners. None of us had been to this particular Maggiano's (it's a chain, for the uninformed) before. Oh well, big party......guess they had noplace else to put us. In this largely empty restaurant. So we sit down. Eight of the nine plates set out were dirty. Not "Oh a water spot" dirty but "Oh shit, that's somebody's denture's" dirty. We are not a very particular bunch. No silverware checkers here. So we're sitting there. And sitting there. Around 4:15, Dave went to inquire as to where our server might be as no one had yet acknowledged our presence. Everybody knows that if you're demanding satisfaction, you send the guy in the turtleneck. A turtleneck screams authority. A couple of waiters came over and gave us bread and water and announced that they had no idea where our server might be. Around 4:25 and after another round of trips to ask for manager's, etc. our waitress limps (no lie) over and apologizes for the wait but that she was on her break. Uhhhhhhhh.......okay. So we order drinks and immediately order our meal as well. Drinks come back. She's got my vodka tonic, the kid's Shirley Temples, my dad's martini, my mom's wine and Dave's bourbon. My brother, who had ordered a beer was informed that "they are changing the keg". His reply? "I bet they weren't changing it twenty minutes ago". My sister-in-law, who had ordered a glass of Chard, was given something pink. Back that goes. A few minutes later, we hear a crash. My brother: "That was probably my beer". The odd thing is, she eventually brought him a bottle. Thought they were changing the keg? So, everybody is somewhat pacified because we have our cocktails (I was quite happy that we had arrived early and were one up on everybody in the drinks department) and we're trying to have a good time. A car horn starts blaring right behind us. Some smart-ass says, "It's probably our waitress". Now, most of us had worked in food service and understand when you have "one of those" tables. Some people are just asses. We are not. Trust me. We're pretty easy-going fun-loving sorts. This girl just sucked. We did feel for her though as you could tell that every time she was forced to stagger up to our table she would rather have crawled into a hole and died. Still. You're in the wrong business, Hoppy. Eventually, after several more ridiculous turns of events, my dad goes up and talks to the manager. We're all just sitting there wide-eyed. He apparently demanded an "adjustment" and the card of both the manager on duty and the GM. When he came back to the table, my mom said, "Did you give him YOUR card???" which was met with laughter because as my brother said, "Your card saying WHAT???? Disgruntled Retireee????" Which is apt as my dad has been retired since he was in his early fifties. One way or the other, we had to get through the meal and it was hard knowing that all of the other servers were looking at us and referring to us as the said, "Disgruntled Nine Top". Which of course, we were. The good news is that when the server came over to give us what we thought was the bill, it was announced that it was all taken care of. I should have had more to drink. And I don't really think dad loves Maggiano's anymore. 

Thanksmas

As I was thinking about what I was going to write about today, it occurred to me that I am at grave risk of sounding like the Andy Rooney of the early-forties set. Can a chick be a curmudgeon? If so, I'm about to become one. Here's the deal. I'm out and about doing my Thanksgiving stuff and I realize that Thanksgiving no longer exists singularly. I literally saw a house in town today that had pumpkins on the porch, a Thanksgiving flag and a big inflatable Santa. It's like we're suffering from multiple holiday disorder or something. At Costco earlier, there were people with turkey's, pumpkin pies and poinsettia's in their carts. That's just wrong. When I was growing up (Andy Rooney......I know), Thanksgiving was it's own deal. The stores were not playing Christmas music. Because it was THANKSGIVING. One thing at a time, people!!!!!! Thanksgiving is actually a pretty nice holiday. There's not a huge build-up, no big expectations.......you just eat a good meal with your family, watch some football and enjoy a Thursday away from the rat race. People don't (or shouldn't) send out Thanksgiving cards or have a slate of Thanksgiving parties to go to prior to the actual day itself and they don't give Thanksgiving presents. It's kinda like Christmas's dope smoking slacker brother. It's not shiny or fancy or aggressively flashy. Yes, it's the kick-off to the holiday season. It is still not Christmas. Turkey. Pilgrims. Plymouth Rock. Drunken relatives (okay, well in my case that's true for Christmas......and Easter......and......oh, nevermind......). Gobble, gobble. Nary a Christmas decoration will be put up on MY watch until Friday. Saturday at the latest. Because anytime AFTER Thanksgiving is actually Christmas. And I will embrace that too, in all of it's Christmas-y glory.  

Bristol Pailin and the TSA

I honestly think I am just going to stop watching the news altogether. It seems like the media grabs onto a subject and it's like a dog with a bone that it has to gnaw into oblivion. First we had the Chilean miners. That was actually a pretty cool story and I didn't mind that coverage because shit man, they were trapped in a MINE. Big human interest story. But then we had the Carnival Cruisers. They had to eat Spam. Waaahhhhh. Although Spam is pretty gross. We have now moved onto Bristol Pailin and the TSA and the "don't touch my junk" dude. To address the former: WOW!!!!! Shocker!!!!! The Tea Party movement is suspected to be supporting Sarah Pailin's daughter!?!?!?! WHO DO YOU THINK IS WATCHING A BALLROOM DANCING SHOW????? Urban liberal hipsters wearing berets in coffee shops? Do hipsters still wear berets? I'm guessing that show has a pretty conservative base. Call me crazy. I don't think there a bunch of lefties trying to decide whether they should climb a tree and live in it or stay home and watching Dancing With the Stars. That being settled, let us move on to the TSA. First of all, I saw the guy with the "junk". I wouldn't want to touch his junk. I'm pretty sure that touching some doughy white dude's naughty bits was not on that TSA agents bucket list. Eewwww. I do agree that some of this patting down has gone too far as evidenced with the guy with the urine bag thingy. That would suck. That being said, you can stick a cattle prod up my ass if it will keep me from being blown into smithereens. You've got some pretty short memories out there, American public. Remember 9/11? The paranoia and fear? People swearing to never fly again? That event changed the face of air travel and you actually may have to deal with a bit of inconvenience. It could save your life and prevent a whole lot of suffering. Put up with the groping. It might be fun. My dad says he is going to try to go through twice.

Mommy's Little Tweenager

I have just pulled an all-nighter. NO I was not out shaking my bad self around at a club with a boomin' system and bottle service. Besides, I live in Denver. They roll up the sidewalk at 2 am and considering that I am normally in bed by nine, that is just Jim-dandy with me. The reason for my sleepless night? My baby is sick. He started saying that his stomach hurt around dinner time. My baby is not one to miss a meal willingly. The vomiting started around 8:30 and pretty much only just now stopped as he has fallen into a resigned and fitful slumber. I was lying in bed with him around one in the morning and I said, "Do you want me to stay with you or go and just come back and check on you?" and he said, "I want you to stay with me mommy". He NEVER calls me "mommy" anymore. Uh, arrow through heart? I'm up for the duration. He had me at "I want you to stay". The funny thing is, for those of you readers who are not aware, the baby in question is eleven. A fifth grader. A full-on tweenage boy. That sometimes still wants his mommy. The paradox here is rather striking as I have been feeling the beginning of that inevitable (and admittedly parentally painful) separation between mother and child. I have become embarrassing. Well, I always have been embarrassing but he's just getting hip to that fact. Rewind to last August. Jack's at the pool. I stop by to check in and see what's what. He's sitting at an umbrella table having lunch with his homies (more about his extravagant country club cabana spending habits in another post......this one is supposed to be warm and fuzzy......). I walk up and sit down. "Hi guys!!!!" "Hi Mom, Hi Mrs. Christie, Hi Mollie". I've known most of these kids since they were five. I start chattin' 'em up. One of them looks at me and says, "Um.......are you going to sit here the whole time?" Uhhhhhh.......apparently I am not. Look at the time! Places to go!!!! People to see!!! It was one of those "HOLY SHIT" moments. Those kids used to think I was cool!!!!! They would beg me to hang out with them. Now I am an official cramper of style. Freakin' A!!!!! We also had the incident wherein he was in our hot tub with his (female) best friend. They needed something and started yelling for me to come outside. After I retrieved the beverages they required, I was told that I could "go now". Hmmmmph. Oh and do not make the mistake of asking an eleven-year old if he would like to invite a friend over to play. "GOD MOM.......I'm ELEVEN. We don't 'play', we 'hang out'". EXCUSE ME, James Dean. I used to be too cool for school myself, until I was informed differently by the likes of you and your little pals. Oh and then there's the sudden interest in hygiene and appearance. Since when does this kid give a shit what he's wearing? And what is up with this Axe stuff that it was requested I purchase? Some sort of shower gel designed to drive the ladies crazy? Seriously? I walked into his room not that long ago and had my olfactory senses assaulted by a wall of SOMETHING. I said, "Errrrr......you smell good....." and Jack responded, "Yeah, it's because I pretty much marinated my body in Axe". Perfect. So, although this night has been long and exhausting and even a little worrisome, it also reminded me that no matter how cool you are or even how old you are, sometimes you just need your mom. Shit, I'm forty-three years old and I've found myself wanting my mommy lately. So there's hope. That bond is still in there. It just gets buried by hormones and peer groups and the development of a separate self. The human being that deep inside knows that you, his mom, love him best of all, never really goes away. 

Adult ADHD

Wow! Hi blog! Long time, no see. I've been a little busy. Taking a cosmic crap of self-awareness is a big job. And thirsty work! I'm not really sure why the turd in question was "cosmic" per se. That just sounds profound and all outer-spacey. Wheeeee. This summer was a bit of a bitch. Nothing every other formerly fabulous forty-something ISN'T going through right now but since I'm me, it sucked a bit more. It's all, "Waah, waah, waah, poor you" until it's actually, uh......you? So anyway, since everybody thought I was losing my shit, I was strong-armed......I mean it was gently recommended that I "talk to someone". To shut everybody up, I did. I pretty much figured the doctor would give me a bunch of psycho-babble bullshit about how damaged I am and tell me I needed years of therapy. Cha-ching, right? In one of the bigger shockers of my life (and trust me, I've had plenty......and no, I am not referring to "THE" Shocker, pervs) in less than about twenty minutes, she looked at me and said, "Has it ever occurred to you that you might have ADHD?" Uh.......no???!!!!! I just thought I was a spaz! So, I did some reading about it. Lightbulb. Among the little symptomatic gems? Oh, let's see: 

* Poor organizational skills. Ya think? If you've ever opened one of my cabinets and been hit in the head with a precariously placed object, you would agree. MOM. 

* Trouble starting and finishing projects. I think this includes having a job. Check.

* Constantly losing or misplacing things. Now, I'm sure you're all saying, "Sure Mol, everybody does this". I lose CARS. And children. Sometimes at the same time. Actually that's not true. I think telling big lies and exaggerating is a symptom also. 

* Frequently talk over others and interrupt them. NOOOOOOO. But I'm so fucking interesting!!!!!!

* Blurt out thoughts that are rude or inappropriate without thinking. At this point, I'm starting to think this therapist chick may be on to something. As if the other shit wasn't as plain as the nose on my face.

* Have addictive tendencies. Okaaaayyyyyyy.........I've got it.........I've got it bad........

* Have trouble behaving in socially appropriate fashion such as sitting still during meetings. Or in college classrooms.........or talking to boring people..........

I could go on and about feelings of agitation, irritability, getting bored easily (reference previous sentence), not dealing well with frustration, easily feeling stressed out, talking excessively, blah, blah, blah. Okay, like I said, where do I sign? Well, here's the deal.......I took the test and it strongly indicated that I have it. Again, doi. You have two options: therapy to help you cope with your symptoms or drugs. I don't want to cope. I want the pills. So it was prescribed. The therapist basically told me I needed to be able to think straight before I could tackle the other crap like how fucked up I am. According to my thorough research in which I read exactly what I wanted to read on the world wide web, if you don't actually have ADHD and take Ritalin, which is essentially speed, you will act like, well, like you're on speed. I had first hand knowledge of this when it was suspected awhile back that Jack may have some attentional issues. We tried the drugs and you may as well have just wound the kid up and let him fly around the room. I remember driving him to school and thinking, "Holy shit......I love you, kid but if you don't stick a cork in it, I may well drive off of the road". So that was that. No drugs for him. With me, however, it seems to be working. It slowed me down. A little. And there are no socks in my pantry. Granted, the ones on my feet don't match but I've got 'em in the right vicinity. AND it seems that I can actually sit still for long enough to write my blog. You may ask yourself how in the ass I was able to do it for as long as I did if in fact I have this terrible disease. It's a little thing called "hyper-focus". I was really interested in it. And then I got bored. And couldn't sit still. And was irritable. And had trouble staying motivated. Oh, but I am medicated and motivated now. Just like the napkins with the crazy housewife on 'em say. So, even though you're all out of the habit of reading my ramblings, get back in it. Please. I think being bossy is one of the symptoms. Where are my pills?!?! Probably in the car. Fuck.