Tuesday, September 28, 2010

Want Me to Fix Your Eyewear?

So what if part of the cheap glasses I got at Walmart kept coming off?

I'm a grown woman.

I'm perfectly capable of gluing on a little plastic earpiececoverthingy (said with all kinds of attitude).



Wednesday, September 01, 2010

Taking the Diet Coke

One time my Sis-in-law slash BFF, Becky and I serendipitously figured out we both had friends who lived in Boston. And then later figured out that they were ROOMMATES! It was obviously a giant sign from the Universe that we needed to take a grltrip to Boston. And so, naturally, we did.

We had a great time in Boston. We all got along well, saw lots of awesome historical sights, took a duckboat ride on the Charles River...it was a memorable, wonderful trip.

On our flight home Becky and I were, for some reason, seated one in front of the other. We each had a window seat, but couldn't get anyone to trade with us so we could sit together. Oh well. During the flight I could vaguely hear her in front of me, chatting it up with the lady sitting next to her.

I was sitting by a middle-aged couple who had nothing to say. And when I said, "Oh, look how cute! Miniature silverware!" during the meal, they were not the least bit amused. Awkward.

When the flight attendant asked what I would like to drink I answered, "Do you have Dr. Pepper?" She said, "What? Diet Coke?" (I hate Diet Coke). I said, "....uhhhhhyyyyyyeah, um hmm, yep, Diet Coke. Thank you."

When we got off the plane Becky said, "Did I hear you order a Diet Coke? What the heck? You hate Diet Coke! I was all, 'Did she just order Diet Coke? What the heck? She hates Diet Coke!'" I explained to her that the attendant had heard me wrong and I didn't want to make her feel bad, so I took the Diet Coke. I have been known to have a fairly serious problem with lack of assertiveness, even in harmless situations such as this.

The phrase 'Taking the Diet Coke' has evolved from this story and is a common warning from Becky and others when they fear I am going to buckle in a confrontational situation. I am often admonished, "Don't you dare take the Diet Coke, Kimi!" Or, "Oh, no. You took the Diet Coke, didn't you," by Becky or Bob or anyone else who knows me well. Those two are routinely called upon to give me courage when I have to deal with a sensitive situation. My sympathy often overrides my objectivity and I can end up flipping sides just to make someone feel better. It's a blessing and a curse. I can see both sides of an issue very clearly. Problem is, that makes it really hard to take a side, even when I know it's right.

So, I try my best not to take the Diet Coke. Literally and figuratively.

Which makes me think of my friend, Melinda, who, though she will ALWAYS take a Diet Coke, would NEVER 'take the Diet Coke!'

Tuesday, August 31, 2010

Am I Being Punked Right Now?

I've been sick for days, but I still have to do stuff since I have that one job: Mom. Today I had to go to the fabric store with Andie to buy some material for a school thing. We picked out a lovely metallic stretch fabric that was 30% off and went to have it cut at the cutting table. There was one customer there who had just finished getting her fabric cut and then she left. So it was just me. And so I put my fabric on the table and the cutting table worker lady said, "Oh! Did you take a number," as she pointed to the little number dispenser. Are you kidding me, I thought. I'm the only person anywhere near this table. Isn't that just a waste of paper? I noticed a digital display up high showing a big number 20 as I took number 21 from the dispenser.

As I stood there, swaying faintly from weakness and nausea, I watched her fiddle around superslowly with whatever she could think of. I closed my eyes for a little micronap and also so I wouldn't make an Are You Serious? face at her, because that would be a little rude. But HOLY COW!

After a very long minute or so she ran out of things to 'do' but didn't so much as look up at me before she walked in the opposite direction over to a phone. I could NOT believe it when she held the handpiece to her mouth like a microphone and announced over the loudspeaker, "Attention customers: we are now serving number twenty one at the cutting table. Serving number twenty one."

Then she walked back over to me and said, "What can I do for you," as if she had just now noticed me standing there.

Okay, now I couldn't help it. I pointedly turned my head in both directions, looking at the NOBODY who was standing ANYWHERE within shooting distance and gave her a semi-subtle incredulous look, otherwise known as the Am I On Candid Camera? face. I set my fabric on the table, trying unsuccessfully to suppress a sarcastic smirk, gave my head a defeated little shake, and said, "5 yards, please."

Wednesday, June 16, 2010

Perhaps I Could Join the Circus?

I used to teach piano, you may know. Just beginners, though--don't want to mess anyone up too badly, right?

I had some awesome piano students. I think they entertained me more than I ever taught them piano. But hopefully they learned something. Kids are funny. Some of my students LOVED me, couldn't stand to see me move away. Others seemed to think I was a crazy lady. They never came right out and said it, but I have my suspicions. Let me tell you about some of my faves:

MCKENNA was deathly afraid of dogs, so I always had to make sure our dog was nowhere in sight when she came over or she couldn't even have a lesson due to excess emotional trauma.

KENDRA was somewhere off in left field or something. I never did completely figure her out. She was 11 and I pretty much taught her the same lesson every week because she wasn't able to grasp a concept for forever. And even when I thought she had gotten it I'd find out a few lessons later, when she acted like she'd never heard it before in her life, that she hadn't quite yet. I got a lot of blank stares from Kendra.

Whenever she saw me at the school, though, she would yell, "HI planno teacherrrr!" I don't think she had any idea what my name was, but she knew I was her planno teacher. So that's good.

Her lesson was right after school and she would always walk the half-block to my house in extreme bladder distress and then come panting up to my door, pleading desperately to use my bathroom, as if she thought I might just turn her down. One time she had to stop in the middle of the street and put down her backpack just to get a better grip on her full crotch-hold. It may have been that day that I mentioned she might want to go at school first so she wouldn't be so uncomfortable walking up the street.

"Okay, (...pant, pant...tightencrotchhold...pottydance), but," she says, "can I just use yours for today?!"

Oh, Kendra. Kendra, Kendra, Kendra. Of course you can use mine. *Closedeyesheadshake*.

ROMAN. Everybody called him ROman except for his mom. She called him RoMAHN. I was always undecided on whether I should go with the accepted American pronunciation or the obviously correct Latin pronunciation. So I pretty much flip-flopped every other time-ish. Come to think of it, he prob thought I was a weirdo even before this next incident ever occurred.

During one lesson Roman looked at me quizzically and said I had a hair on my lip. Wait. We need pictures for this story. Here, I'll act it out in pictures.

So, he says I have a hair on my lip.

"Oh," I say, as I brush my lip off, "Did I get it?"

"Uuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh................no. Like.........*cringeface*.........a mustache."



Tell it like it is, Ro.
Just tell it like it is.

Monday, May 31, 2010

Redemption at Last

Here's an old classic for you. There was this one time when I was newly pregnant. Newly as in, 'not very far along,' as well as in, 'never been pregnant before.' I was still fitting into my regular clothes, but not so much comfortably. So when we got home from a long day at church I went ahead and unzipped the zipper on the side of my skirt and sat down on the couch for some nice Sunday chillaxin'.

You know how I always forget appointments and stuff, so you won't be surprised when I tell you I forgot our home teachers were coming by for a visit until they knocked on the door. Not a big deal. I mean, I can chit chat like it's none of your business, so I really didn't mind having some short term visitors. As long as they didn't stay so long that I'd miss snack time and stuff. You gotta keep on top of that sort of thing in the first trimester, you know. Anyway, we didn't know them very well, so it was KIND OF embarrassing when I stood to greet them and my skirt fell straight to the floor.

Yeah, it happened.

Naturally, my fondest desire and greatest wish at that moment was for everyone to start laughing hysterically and think to themselves that was the best thing that happened all day. Because it was so funny.

Instead, both of them turned so quickly that how did they not get whiplash? "Uhhh...umm...oh!...wow...your fish have gotten...bigger...haven't they," they stammered.

Really? That's how you're gonna play it, brethren? The fish?! Are bigger?! Okay, so maybe we had piranhas. And maybe they were growing exponentially bigger by the day. But, srsly. That's the best you can do?

Regrettably, and as I've experienced time and time again, instead of having a great laugh and some impromptu bonding time, we all four sat in awkward desperation for half an hour, each on our own side of the big old elephant in the room. Looking at each other through the legs, around the trunk, under the tail. Big, stinky elephant. All the while, our pleasant conversational faces glued on like the wrapper on a Kraft slice.

Situations like that exhaust me. Freals.

Well, I think the time has come to redeem that unfortunate event and celebrate it as the top notch EM story it was always meant to be.

So raise your glasses high! Here's to the Great Skirt Dive of '89! Cheers!

Thursday, April 15, 2010


My very good friend Erin celebrated (endured) her 40th birthday this week. I think she's the cutest 40 year old there ever was. Freals. Anyway, she's had several birthday tributes on various blogs and this isn't one of them. This is an embarrassing moment dodged. And a birthday gift forfeited.

One time I was at Erin's house and she graciously offered me some hot chocolate, which she knows I love. She's nice like that. But she served the hot choc in some gnarly, nasty mugs. Mismatched, logo-riddled mugs. Mine had the handle broken off. Srsly, Erin, hot chocolate deserves better than that. For Christmas Erin had given me one of my favorite gifts: a delicate, pretty china-white mug with a scrolly black design and my initial on it. It's the only thing I'll drink my cocoa out of now. It's so elegant and lovely and makes me feel fancy. And whenever I look at it I think of the delicious taste of my winter-time bff, hot chocolate. Thanks Erin, you know how I love my mug!

So, for Erin's birthday I decided to return the favor. Only I got her a set of 8 mugs, so she could serve guests and even her whole family tummy-warming drinks in a lovely receptacle and not in chipped-up, accumulated-from-the-drug-reps, not-for-'company' mugs. I bought them and wrapped them in a beautiful package, Kim Johnston-style, with color-coordinated bows and ribbon. I put the box in my car and waited for the right time to give them to her.

On the day of her birthday I was at her house, in her kitchen, having a great little chat and thinking she was such a supercute 40 year old chick-dawg, when I noticed some of her kitchen cupboards with glass-fronts. Actually, what I noticed was what rested neatly behind the glass doors: a set of perfectly lovely, gray, patterned....MUGS! Were those there the whole time? Even when she served me hot cocoa in the second-hand cups? I don't know. What I do know is she's already set in the mug department. Why did she not use one of them for me? I choose to think it's because she thinks of me as family, and as such didn't think to get out the 'good china' for little old Kimi. That's okay. I take it as a compliment. But now, what to do with the brightly-colored package sitting in my car?

I had also gotten her an iTunes gift card. I always get her an iTunes gift card. She LOVES iTunes and is always searching out the latest and greatest new bands and songs and stuff. The best part is she shares her finds with others and that includes me, which is awesome because she has great taste in music and I get to benefit from it. So I encourage the iTunes obsesh with gift cards here and there. I had slipped the gift card in with the birthday card, so when it came time to cough up a gift I only gave her the card. She didn't even know she missed out on a whole 'nother present! And the best part is I never told her........until now.

Happy birthday, Erin! Enjoy the iTunes!

Thursday, January 21, 2010

Notes to the Universe

Dear Diet: You are making me so boring. Thinner? Yeah, sure. Healthier? Prob. But I'm still on the fence about whether you're worth it. I am no fun to be around these days. Heck, I don't even like hanging out with myself that much. I appreciate what you're trying to do, really I do, but I hope you understand when I say that when this is all over I'm moving on. Three more weeks and you're outta here. Make that two and a half.

Dear Winter: Why?

Dear Spring: Everybody loves you, I know. But I think you're just a big tease. And I think you love it, getting everybody's hopes up, just to dash them a few days later. Yeah, you get me good every single year. I fall for your tricks, try as I might to keep my guard up. Ooohhh, you're good.

Dear Earrings: Do ya'll plan that out? That thing where one of you goes off somewhere and the other stays where I put you? And then you switch off and the first one shows up in some random place, but then the other one isn't in the original spot anymore? That's funny. Now stop it.

My Dear Children: Would you stop aging? Please?

Dear Cotton: You are so soft and comfortable, warm or cool as needed, versatile and affordable. But.......why you always gotta SHRINK like that?

Dear Hot Chocolate: I know. Shhhh, I know. I miss you too. It's gonna be okay. Don't tell the Diet, but when I finish up with him, you and me, we're back on. That's right, HC, we're about to start up again. Big time.