“I am not really make-up-ey.” (Can I be any more of a dork? She knew that just looking at my blotchy face!)

“Mousse? Mousse foundation? Do you still have that?” (because I got some long ago, when I was preparing for my wedding, which was, oh SEVEN years ago.) (and yes, they did still have it, and it’s awesome.)

“Sheer? What does that mean exactly?” (It’s a scale of how much makeup it looks like you’re wearing. Sheer = not much at all! less sheer = Tammy Faye Baker! Oh the things I learn! the mousse foundation is very sheer.)

“Face soap? In bar form? So I can stick it in the shower and might actually USE it?” (Didn’t have that, but had some other neato stuff that is a wash and toner all in one. Since I don’t know what toner is, I was impressed.)

“Oooooooh. This smells nice! Maybe I’ll tell my husband to get me some for Christmas.”
“Tell him it’s called, Blah blah blah blah.”
“(already forgotten) … I’ll just tell him to get the purple bottle.”

I haven’t stood at the make-up counter in a major department store for quite some time. I used to just trust my mother to look at me, shake her head in disappointment, and then give me stuff in hopes that I might, one day, use it. Now that I’m older, (and much farther away) now I just don’t really do anything. I put on some mascara if you’re lucky, and for a cleaning regime, sometimes I swipe my face with the Dove bar in my shower (soap, not chocolate covered ice cream), but not very often, because it leaves my face feeling tight and extra shiny.

So, I WOULD be good for another 7 years with no standing at the make-up counter, except that the counter lady gave me samples of a moisturizer (Perpetual Moisture 24 hr lotion) that make my face feel like satin, especially after I use the wash/toner stuff in the shower.

So I am going to have to get me some of that.

My mother must have gotten to her somehow.

This lunch was sometime last year, and I wrote this up and then didn’t post it for whatever reason. I thought I’d post it now.

“Ooohhhh, the second trimester is the best. that’s the trimester when you get randy.”
“randy? what are you, from the 70s?”

“ooh, i want some of your corn stuff.”
“me too, me too!”
“hey that was my fork! you used my fork!”
“well, I promise I don’t have germs.”
“oh, i’m not afraid of your germs.”
“ok, then maybe after we could kiss a little.”

“get all the sex now, in the 2nd trimester, because it could be a YEAR after that baby is born.”
“A YEAR!?!” (heard from all males at the table, except the ones with kids. ok, only 2 males exclaimed.)
“well, that’s going a bit far, but definitely a few months.”
“look at him. we just ruined his day.”
“it is a lot easier with the 2nd and 3rd baby.”
“yes but this is his FIRST baby! we have to prepare him!”
“when i get home, i’m getting busy.”

“so how about you, when was the last time you’ve had sex?”

“seriously, why so long? a few MONTHS?”
“she needs time and she shouldn’t be pressured.”
“but why that long?”
“all i’m saying, is don’t pressure her.”
“and get some good lube.”

“you’re totally exhausted all the time, you usually are covered in assorted baby drool, spitup or poop..”
“you’ve got a baby and your breasts are being sucked on all the time!”
“hell, she’s got that now.”

“i think we should drink at every friday lunch.”
“if we get some lesbian action, i’m all for it.”

so this past weekend has been a busy busy one. I actually dreamed Saturday morning that it was halloween night and I hadn’t made Jocelyn’s costume, and couldn’t find her boots and the people that opened the door to her were like, “Uhhh… what is she supposed to be?” James said it sounded like those dreams he has of not finishing his homework in time. Ergh. - Random tangent. Whenever I was sick and had those messed up feverish dreams in high school, I was always doing math problems. Trying to solve for X, what was X? Lines and lines of working out the 2 sides of an algebraic problem trying to find x in that weird dreaming state where everything is surreal and yet you can feel the pencil gripped tightly in your hand as you cancel out the +2 on both sides, etc. You would think this means that algebra was my worst nightmare, but the opposite was true. I love math. Tangent over.

So this weekend I made Jocelyn’s costume, broke my sewing machine (it is now “out of timing” according to the repairman) had to hand sew the last bits, made gingerbread cookies for Ethan’s class, along with other non-time-pertinent things. We all went to Costco (where miraculously, Ethan NOR Jocelyn saw the rows and rows of toys and demanded to be driven down them) to get more floor padding stuff to go under the laminate flooring in the basement, which I am finally trying to get going on again. There is a sad corner of about 6′ by 3′ that is started on. It is going to be a pain in the ass just because of how much shit we have in that room. Not really anywhere to move it to, so it’s tricky. The nice thing about laminate is as soon as part of it is laid, you can put stuff on it right away. I just need to get some done so some stuff can be moved over onto it to make room for the rest of the floor to be laid. It’s a catch 22.

Anyway, I was all nervous about remembering the items that needed to get done for Halloween and the kids’ school “Masquerade” party. This is because I guess Halloween is evil and they don’t want to celebrate it. So instead, they make masks and have a party the DAY BEFORE HALLOWEEN. That’s right. THe party was Monday. When did I think it was? Today, of course. HALLOWEEN. Ergh. So even though we HAD the cookies all made for Ethan’s party (gingerbread cookie cutouts no less, not just drop cookies) and HAD the bag of candy for Jocelyn’s party (someone else had already signed up for cupcakes, so I grabbed candy), I thought the party was on Tuesday. And so nothing went in to school. Ethan was sad that there weren’t any cookies at his class party. Jocelyn was kind of oblivious, and kept calling the bag of candy, “MY BIRTHDAY PARTY! I WANT MY BIRTHDAY PARTY!” (”You mean your MASQUERADE PARTY CANDY, honey.” “YEAH! MY PARTY CANDY! MY BIRTHDAY PARTY CANDY!” Bah.)

Anyway. Kind of bummed. After the kids were in bed, and we had watched 2 fraking episodes of Battlestar Galactica (we’re still on season 1), I sighed.

me: “I can’t beleive the parties were today. I mean, I made cookies! I bought candy! You would think the damn party would be tomorrow, ON HALLOWEEN.”

james: “Yeah. That sucks.”

me: *sigh* “I’m a bad mother.”

james: *flips a page in his magazine.*

me: *glares at him*

james: *totally oblivious. FINALLY looks up. sees me looking at him.*

me: *gives him a more obvious glare, that says, “welllllll?”*

james: *the cogs finally start to turn in his head* finally he blurts out, “You’re not a bad mother.”

me: *glancing down at my pretend watch on my wrist*

james: *blush*

me: “You are fired.”

About 12:30, last night. Me - already in bed. James - coming to bed after his spree of massive destruction in World of Warcraft:

amy: “James, we can’t do this anymore”

james: “do what?”

amy: “The Chickens keep crowing”

james: “are you awake?”

amy: zzzzZZZZzzzZZZZ

james: “Amy?”

amy: “The Chickens keep crowing…”

I haven’t done this in a while, but today’s meetings had some good ones:

- Who’s next? Ben? What’s going on in Ben-dom?

- So what’s happening? What’s going on with that? Tell me about all the fixes you’re doing.
- I’m doing all the fixes.

- Well, Mr. X is taking another position within the organization, so it’s possible that this project will be taken over by Ms. Y–
- DOH!
(Ms. Y = troublemaker)

- I’m working on [a project] & [the client contact] needs to go back to the first grade.

- They’ve got to straighten out their paperwork, because it is a mess.
- I had an O.B. like that once.

(a minute later)

- Is it my turn? Are you finished? You done with your O.B. thing?

Do you also bounce up and down when the mimi notify list email drops into your email box letting you know that mimi has once again updated her diary?

Well maybe you should start!

Go read today’s mimi smartypants, and then come back. I’ll wait. (sign up for her notify list while you’re there.)

That Nora. She just kills me.

Normally I don’t order you to leave my website, in fact, I usually prefer people to stay and read a while, but mimi’s mention of child-nipples reminded me of an exchange with Ethan. then Tiny Kingdom, with all the discussion on nuts, also reminded me of it. (btw, if you haven’t read her post about discussing the birds and the bees, then you should go check that out too.)
It all started when I observed a little brown dot on Ethan’s scalp as I was brushing his hair.

me: You are probably going to have a lot of moles, like your daddy.
him: moles?
me: yes, moles. they are little brown or red bumps on your skin. Like this one. (I point out a small mole on his forearm.)
him: that’s a mole?
me: yup. Daddy has lots of moles.
him: I only have ONE. …. wait.. (he lifts up his shirt, and points to his nipples.) Are these moles?
me: No, those are your nipples.
him: Does daddy have nipples?
me: Yes, everyone has nipples.
him: Me too! I have two nipples, and one mole!

Later, we were reading Otto goes to the Beach, where a girl cat is featured wearing a two piece bathing suit.

him: what’s that? (pointing to the top part of the girl cat’s bathing suit)
me: that’s the top of her bathing suit. Girls bathing suits cover up their nipples.
him: But my bathing suit doesn’t.
me: nope, it doesn’t.
him: why?
me: because when girls grow up, they get boobies, but boys don’t. So even though they don’t have breasts when they’re little, they still cover up where they will be someday. They’re private.
him: I won’t have breasts. I just have my boy bits. that’s my penis.
me: that’s right.

Back to Mimi, I also get frustrated with the girl everything found everywhere. While Ethan was ecstatic to receive a few t-shirts with Lightning McQueen and Mater on them, I know Jocelyn would also appreciate clothing sporting the CARS heros, but of course, there are none to be found on girl clothing. A few months ago, she was dead set on wearing Ethan’s monster truck shirt, which he graciously allowed, and I would love to get her some sports shirts, just one with a soccer ball on it would do. But no. None to be found.

Blarg.

In shocking news, today the world was stunned to learn that President George W. Bush is not a robot. Instead of repeating the party line verbatim, President Dubya speaks frankly and honestly with British Prime Minister Tony Blair and even lets the word “shit” escape his lips.

“I just couldn’t beleive it. This is the happiest day of my life,” stated one local man on hearing the news. Others were not so convinced.

“It’s just a conspiracy, man. It was all staged by the GOVERNMENT.” shouted one man before boarding the metro to L’Enfant Plaza in Washington, DC. “I’m telling you. Bush is nothing but a talking head, spouting what they WANT us to hear, man. Don’t fall for it!”

News organizations around the world are shoving other stories aside to bring us this important news, CNN leading the pack in refering to it as “the shit heard round the world.” On being asked whether this could mean that Condoleeza Rice may also be human, one reporter turned white, and muttered, “Now let’s not go that far.”

Film at 11.

co-worker 1: I told him to tell you to just do a half-assed job.

co-worker 2: Yes, but I told him I don’t know how to do a half-assed job.

co-worker 1: I can help you with that.

the rain is coming down, giving the world a scrub and making it look all fresh and green and lovely. My cube-mate and I are looking at it through our office window:

amy: the world is in such high resolution.
amy: I can’t beleive I said that.
cube-mate: I can’t believe you did either.
amy: yeah that was one that I shouldn’t have said out loud.
amy: it looks so clear. so crisp.
cube-mate: probably because of the rain.
amy: probably because i put in fresh contacts this week.

I stumbled onto a local blog which I’ve quite been enjoying lately - Cartwheels at Midnight. The community of friends over there have burst into an idea of a traveling journal - The journal will travel from blogger to blogger, where the recipient will take a page and add her contribution, and then mail it on to the next in line. I fell in love with the idea and emailed begging to be allowed to join in, and yay! I am now in the Ultimate Mailing Matrix. I’ve already started wondering what the hell I’m going to put on my page of the journal.

The project is still forming, but even after it has LAUNCHED, you can still jump in and join. I beleive the journal will just continue to get mailed, and new people will be added into the Ultimate Mailing Matrix until the journal is filled up. So head on over and join up now - it will be a ton of fun.

I did have a few suggestions to the project, and a LOT of the ideas for it are (were) discussed in the comments, so be sure to read those too:

Traveling Blogger Journal:
The Genesis (read COMMENTS)
The Escalation
The Plan
The Rules

If you want to sign up, email your snail mail address to cartwheels at mac dot com.

-amy shimmy shimmy shimmies.