men never change

i was sitting in the waiting room
at the doctor's office.

a frail old woman appeared
from my right,
she shuffled to the desk,
and talked to the nurse
for a moment
about a procedure.

her just-as-frail husband followed her.
she leaned on him.
he held her up.
he helped her to her seat.
he got back up and
listened to the instructions
from the nurse.

then they sat together in the waiting room.
i sat behind them.
she lay her head on his shoulder,
and whispered,
"another mammogram?"

he whispered,
"yes, they want to make sure the
cancer is gone."

she whispered,
"so they just want to squeeze me again?"

and then he leaned over and whispered to her,
something i cannot repeat,
but lord, it almost made me blush,
and then they both giggled like teenagers.

and doesn't it just goes to show,
that men never change.
how lucky, lucky for us.

sunday confession

in the dressing room...

this skirt is so cute,
i love the colors,
it's the perfect length for me,
wait, what's this?
pockets?
why are they down so low?
(reaching down to knees)
why would there be low pockets?
(seconds tick)
you'd have to pull it up
really far to have the pockets
in the right place.
(quick steve urkel impression)
gah!
it's a mini-dress!
(pull up to proper position)
a tube top mini-dress!
at least the pockets make sense now.
dang.

what's your sunday confession?
the confessional is open.

the heart of a gymnast

"she doesn't really look like a gymnast, does she?"
people have said to me, more than once.

she has long, thin legs.
her feet are almost the same size as mine.
she is nine.
she will be tall, no doubt,
as her father towers over us all.
her torso is long as well.
she gets that from me.
her arms are thin.

you are right, she doesn't "look" like a gymnast.

but her hands are calloused,
rough from bar work.
her wrists are weathered from her trusty grips.
and do not be fooled by those thin arms.
they are strong.
so strong.

her toes are long enough to wrap
around the sides of the beam,
they keep her in balance.
they too are rough from turn after turn.
and those long, thin legs?
when they are straight, with toes pointed,
the line she makes is gorgeous.
simply gorgeous.

her drive,
her desire,
her will,
her passion,
to practice,
to push herself,
to succeed.
this is inside her heart.
inside her mind.

so, yeah, you could say that
she doesn't "look" like a gymnast.
but then again -
perhaps you are not looking hard enough.

sunday confession

yesterday we took the kids
to the legofest in pittsburgh.

we had an absolute blast.
and by we, i mean, me too.

it's good to know i'm not
completely grown-up -
yet.

what's your sunday confession?
the confessional is open.

a night out

"my boss asked if we wanted to go
to the urban garden party,
but i told him no thanks."

"you wha?
where?
why would you do that?"

"some outdoor party
at a museum,
you have to dress up,
there's food and stuff,
i don't know,
it sounded like fun,
but we'd have to get
a baby-sitter, blah, blah."

"you mean we finally get to go
on a date, out with other
grown-ups, eat real food,
wear nice clothes, see art,
and hire the sitter for
something other than walking
around best buy,
and you said no thanks,
just like that?"

"yep."

"tell him you changed your mind!"

so we went.
to the urban garden party.
and it was incredible!

some of the highlights -

figs wrapped in bacon!
goat cheese and craisin sandwiches
hummus
biodegradable water bottles
don't get me started on the desserts
coffee bar

belly dancers with live snakes
marilyn monroe on stilts
king kong
tarzan
gangsters
nurses
sailors
starlets
marx brothers
audrey hepburn
carmen miranda(s)

we also got to walk around the museum,
which was really different and fun.
and the gift shop was cool too.

the best part of the night for us was
andrew and andrew,
the djs.
they dj-ed with their ipads.
we loved them!

all in all, a great night out.
i'm so glad mm suggested it.

p.s.  did i mention the figs? 
wrapped in bacon?

the changing of the earrings

k can officially change her earrings
after six weeks of cleaning them
three times
two times
one time everyday.

she is relentless.
change in the morning,
change in the afternoon,
change at night,
"stars to match the stars, mom!"

change one to one color,
change the other to another color,
"to match my outfit, mom!"

i'm all for it -
except i am the one doing all the work.
she is afraid to change them herself.
it's going to be a long summer.

p.s. not to mention the fact
i once went three years without
changing my earrings at all.

sunday confession

we keep buying little
chocolate bars for s'mores.

but SOMEONE
keeps eating them.
all.

ahem.

what's your sunday confession?
the confessional is open.

keeping house

so.
i have to keep the house clean.
hahahahahaha.

things i have learned
while having my house on the market.

1.  dust.  i really think dust is out to get me.
2.  bathrooms.  lock them.  except for one.
3.  crumbs.  eat in the kitchen.  at the counter.
4.  furniture.  don't sit on it.
5.  laundry.  do a load.  put away a load.  repeat.
6.  towels.  hide them.
7.  beds.  make them up.  yourself.
8.  dust.  again.
9.  declutter.  i don't even know what is in the garage.

that's it for now.
oh, and it's only been one day.
yes, i will be completely insane soon.
the end.

p.s.  funny all the headlines say,
"worse than the great depression,
worst housing market ever."
lol.

dear, well, everyone

dear, well, everyone,

burnout tees are see-through.
as in we can see, well, everything.
and we notice.
and then we can't look you in the face.

so please oh please, for the love of trees,
always wear tanks under your burnout tees.

xo,
pj

sunday confession

i have more drafts about our house
than any other topic.

i have written about
how i hate our house,
how i love our house,
how our house is too small,
how our house is perfect,
how our house is ugly,
how our house is beautiful.

how my kids don't have their own rooms,
how it's okay that my kids don't have their own rooms,
how we need an office,
a guest room,
a eat-in kitchen,
and how not having those things is okay too.
the list is endless really.
but i've never published them.

we have almost moved a million times,
we look at houses online daily,
but we never go for it.
we don't want to change schools,
we love our neighborhood,
we will make do.
mostly it's because i'm scared.
scared to change.

on thursday, our next door neighbors
said they are moving.
they gave us first dibs.
i developed an ulcer.

we looked at the house,
we loved the house,
i developed chest pains.

on friday we called the realtor.
we got our financial ducks in a row.
the realtor looked at both houses on saturday.
i think two clumps of my hair fell out.

today she called and said,
"can you have your house ready for someone to look -
tomorrow?"
i had trouble breathing.

we cleaned and scoured and decluttered.
i almost cried four times.
once because i really don't want to pack all this junk.
once because most all my memories are here.
once because my kids are sad to move.
and once because i am kind of excited to have more space.

but it would be so much more exciting
if we sold this house first.
and that is why i think i have hives.
gulp.

what's your sunday confession? 
the confessional is open.

welcome back happy

have you ever watched someone
lose their happy?

but it happened so slowly,
over time,
that you didn't really, truly notice that much?
until you really couldn't tell the difference anymore?

but then after a while, the happy appeared again,
radiating all around him?
and you suddenly realized
how utterly unhappy he must have been
for so long?

it is a revelation, i tell ya.
and all i can say is,
welcome back happy.