Once upon a time, 2 non-domestic goddesses who were living in NYC decided to invite some friends over for a pre-Thanksgiving feast. We would supply the turkey and everyone would bring a dish. This was not an extremely classy affair. In fact one friend was excited to bring her family's favorite stuffing and we explained that no, we would prefer Stovetop please. And the Thanksgiving feast was to be served on a blanket in the middle of our living room which could fit no more than the 10 people we were having over and the food.
As we set out to prepare for our day there were two heinous chores that needed to be accomplished. 1) We had to clean the bathroom and 2) We had to prepare and cook the turkey. I'm pretty sure we figured out who would do what by utilizing the classic decision making tool: Rock Paper Scissors. I ended up with the turkey. As I entered our spacious kitchen (it could hold two people if they went on a diet and sucked in their breath), I heard gagging coming out of the bathroom. Wimp, I thought. And then I realized that turkeys have their "parts" stuffed in a bag inside their carcasses and that the cook was expected to put their arm inside the turkey and pull this bag out. I reached in...and the gagging was now harmonized, coming from both rooms.
Honeslty, I cannot remember much about the actual party. I don't remember everyone who attended. I cannot remember what else we ate. I think the turkey came out okay. I do remember my friend with the stuffing brought both the family recipe and Stove Top. I don't remember how either tasted. I remember that clean up was tough because our counter space equated to 2 square feet. I put the turkey in the oven to get it out of the way and we finished cleaning up. A successful day (at least I think it was).
Cut to February (yes, this is still my Thanksgiving story). I am out of town. My roommate tells a little story about an unpleasant odor in the apartment...perhaps an unholy stench. She and her boyfriend thought a mouse died behind the stove. What they actually found was a 3 month old turkey carcass in the oven. But how did we cook those 3 months you ask? Did you know that Dominos delivers and that there are approximately 2 Chinese restaurant on every city block in Manhattan? We did not cook. We might have made Oodles of Noodles or Mac n Cheese on the cook top, but that was the extent of our cooking. Well, it was a snowy cold day and they weren't feeling the desire to walk down the 3 flights into the cold with a rancid carcass in the bag. So they decided to put the bag on the ledge outside the living room window until there was a more opportune time to bring it down. It never even struck me that I should bring it downstairs after I returned from my trip (until right now). I mean finders keepers, right? Months later, a bird eventually built its nest on top of it and raised her babies (ah, the cycle of life). I moved out a while later, and my roommate moved out a year after that. At this point the thought of the bag must have been more than she could stomach. With a push, the bag was sent flying over the edge and into the unused courtyard 3 stories below.
This story has become somewhat of a Thanksgiving tradition. Told year after year. I'm not sure if it will be passed down from generation to generation, but I think if it is, Snopes may have to investigate if this was true or just an urban legend. For all I know, that turkey still haunts the residents of East 83rd Street to this day. At the very least, the story will haunt those of you who are vegetarians. You might be gagging in harmony right now.
Happy Thankgiving!!
Thursday, November 24, 2011
Sunday, November 20, 2011
My Grandmother's Jewelry
My Grandmother (Mimi) died before I had my children. She was always a very nice woman. Kind to the core. Subserviant to my Grandfather. A better wife than he deserved and a good mother to my Mom. She was quiet and did not often speak her mind. Clearly I did not think that we had that much in common. I loved her very much, don't get me wrong. But I always felt like I had more in common with my Grandfather.
My Grandfather (Poppop) was kind of an a-hole. He worked for Kodak when I knew him, but before that, he was a semi-pro baseball player and a basketball referee. He lived the life of the normal male of that era. He drank too much, he didn't have a heck of a lot of respect for women. He was not a good Father to my Mom. And yet, I had a bond with him that I didn't have with any other grandparent. He took me to the driving range where I would goof around and accidentally smack the ball into the wood divider and laugh. He would yell for me to take it seriously. He would take me bowling and then yell at me to take that seriously too. So shock, I became fairly hostile at an early age when I was not good at something. This competetiveness has continued in my life to this day. My Poppop died when I was in college. When they told me that it was only a matter of time I told them that I just wanted him to be at my wedding (which would have required him to live another 15 or so years). But nonetheless, he died that night. I have thought about him so many times over the years. Each time I play golf in a scramble. Years ago when I had a meeting at PGA headquarters in Florida. When I was in the clubhouse mingling with the players at the Colonial. When I MET Tom Watson. He would have reveled in knowing these things. He would have loved my Husband. My Mother always told me how much he had wanted a boy, yet he ended up with her (an only child) and me (an only child). I imagine how excited he would have been about my 2 boys.
I don't think my Mom ever understood why I felt so close to him and not her Mom. She told me about the times that Mimi used to turn cartwheels in the yard. I simply never knew that woman. I knew the one who worried and asked how high when my Grandfather told her to jump.
Yesterday my Mom asked me to look through some old jewelry of her Mother's that she found. It was all costume jewelry and if I didn't want it, she was just going to throw it out. I didn't expect much. I LOVED it. It was sparkly like everything in my jewelry collection. I took three necklaces, a bracelet and a pair of earrings and left a few other pieces. At that point, my son came in and snagged the rest. I'm not sure why, but he was walking around wearing every single piece he collected. I couldn't imagine why my Mother would even THINK of throwing these treasures in the garbage! At the VERY least they would have brought some money at her Church's Holiday sale. But the thing is my Mom doesn't wear a lot of jewelry. And she doesn't get excited about things that sparkle. That gene skipped a generation, and I SURE got that from my Mimi. And then I thought back. My Mom hates shopping, but my Grandmother and I loved it. She used to take me shopping downtown. We would make a day of it. Take the bus into the city, go to all of the beautiful department stores and then have a great meal at the lunch counter. I would always have a BLT or egg and olive sandwich. I still make those egg & olive sandwiches. Those are fantastic memories, and I got them from her. Turns out, I had a lot more in common with her than I ever knew.
I wish she was here to meet my boys, take a trip to the mall, and buy some sparkly things to make us happy. I am reminded again how thankful I am for my family and friends and the interactions with each that make us the people we are.
My Grandfather (Poppop) was kind of an a-hole. He worked for Kodak when I knew him, but before that, he was a semi-pro baseball player and a basketball referee. He lived the life of the normal male of that era. He drank too much, he didn't have a heck of a lot of respect for women. He was not a good Father to my Mom. And yet, I had a bond with him that I didn't have with any other grandparent. He took me to the driving range where I would goof around and accidentally smack the ball into the wood divider and laugh. He would yell for me to take it seriously. He would take me bowling and then yell at me to take that seriously too. So shock, I became fairly hostile at an early age when I was not good at something. This competetiveness has continued in my life to this day. My Poppop died when I was in college. When they told me that it was only a matter of time I told them that I just wanted him to be at my wedding (which would have required him to live another 15 or so years). But nonetheless, he died that night. I have thought about him so many times over the years. Each time I play golf in a scramble. Years ago when I had a meeting at PGA headquarters in Florida. When I was in the clubhouse mingling with the players at the Colonial. When I MET Tom Watson. He would have reveled in knowing these things. He would have loved my Husband. My Mother always told me how much he had wanted a boy, yet he ended up with her (an only child) and me (an only child). I imagine how excited he would have been about my 2 boys.
I don't think my Mom ever understood why I felt so close to him and not her Mom. She told me about the times that Mimi used to turn cartwheels in the yard. I simply never knew that woman. I knew the one who worried and asked how high when my Grandfather told her to jump.
Yesterday my Mom asked me to look through some old jewelry of her Mother's that she found. It was all costume jewelry and if I didn't want it, she was just going to throw it out. I didn't expect much. I LOVED it. It was sparkly like everything in my jewelry collection. I took three necklaces, a bracelet and a pair of earrings and left a few other pieces. At that point, my son came in and snagged the rest. I'm not sure why, but he was walking around wearing every single piece he collected. I couldn't imagine why my Mother would even THINK of throwing these treasures in the garbage! At the VERY least they would have brought some money at her Church's Holiday sale. But the thing is my Mom doesn't wear a lot of jewelry. And she doesn't get excited about things that sparkle. That gene skipped a generation, and I SURE got that from my Mimi. And then I thought back. My Mom hates shopping, but my Grandmother and I loved it. She used to take me shopping downtown. We would make a day of it. Take the bus into the city, go to all of the beautiful department stores and then have a great meal at the lunch counter. I would always have a BLT or egg and olive sandwich. I still make those egg & olive sandwiches. Those are fantastic memories, and I got them from her. Turns out, I had a lot more in common with her than I ever knew.
I wish she was here to meet my boys, take a trip to the mall, and buy some sparkly things to make us happy. I am reminded again how thankful I am for my family and friends and the interactions with each that make us the people we are.
Friday, November 18, 2011
Rock Stars I Have Not Met - Part III
I have not met anyone in Motley Crüe...but I am 4 degrees of separation from Tommy Lee so that should count for something at a family reunion. Years ago I was staying at a surfer house in Hermosa, annoying the shit out of my friend's cousin who I met at her wedding. The dumb ass invited me to come stay with him for a month while I looked for a job out there. Being from the East Coast and not being fluent in Californian, I missed the fact that this was a totally empty offer during our third 5 hour conversation and booked my flight. He announced to me upon arrival that he had just met the girl he was going to marry 2 nights prior at another cousins wedding. The fact remains that he surfed and was friends with Kelly Slater who had stupped Pam Anderson who was in fact married at some point to Tommy Lee. Do you see now how I am practically rock royalty?
Thursday, November 17, 2011
Rock Stars I Have Not Met - Part II
I have not met Whitesnake, but that was a near miss. Thanks to a faulty radio tower or something resembling that and a friend who worked at the station, I found myself with box seats to the Superbowl of whiteness...White snake, White Lion and Great White. We jumped in the power prize van and after driving about 20 miles past the thruway exit, and getting pulled over for speeding, we were back on our way. Freaking about how late we were as we exited at the packed toll booth, we had the misfortune of getting behind a bus. But alas, our fortune was good...the police directing traffic waved the bus ahead of the crowds and then did the same for us. Holy shit, we were behind the friggin' tour bus. We were going to work it to the end. We followed the bus through the front gates after explaining we were with the bus. By the time we got to the backstage gate we merely pointed at the bus and were let through. We watched David Coverdale and Tawny Kitain step out of the bus. I think I had female wood from that alone. We parked and presented our box tickets to security. He was not convinced and went for a consult. He returned and we got the golden ticket to the chocolate factory. Backstage baby!!! Unfortunately after about 5 minutes, someone smarter than both of them came over and sent our asses packing. But we were that close.
Later that summer I returned to the scene of the crime on time, with general admission tickets and no radio station van to back me. It was there that I did not meet Def Leppard. However it was memorable due to rain so hard that we saw Noah and a bunch of animals float by. It washed my friend's contacts right out of her head. By the time we returned to the car, I could no longer stand my wet denim mini and my blind friend couldn't take the top layer of tank top she was wearing. So, off they came in the car. It was then, as I sat bottomless and she with nipples poking through soaking wet second tank, that scary boys came to the window to ask us to a party. Why of course we would love to go if we can ever get out of this parking lot!! And with that, a traffic cop was born. He immediately directed cars to halt, causing a parking lot accident that gave Us just enough room to flee the scene for dryer, less creepy pastures.
Later that summer I returned to the scene of the crime on time, with general admission tickets and no radio station van to back me. It was there that I did not meet Def Leppard. However it was memorable due to rain so hard that we saw Noah and a bunch of animals float by. It washed my friend's contacts right out of her head. By the time we returned to the car, I could no longer stand my wet denim mini and my blind friend couldn't take the top layer of tank top she was wearing. So, off they came in the car. It was then, as I sat bottomless and she with nipples poking through soaking wet second tank, that scary boys came to the window to ask us to a party. Why of course we would love to go if we can ever get out of this parking lot!! And with that, a traffic cop was born. He immediately directed cars to halt, causing a parking lot accident that gave Us just enough room to flee the scene for dryer, less creepy pastures.
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
Rock Stars I Have Not Met - Part I
While technically, "Rock Stars I Have Not Met" could be an exceedingly long topic, taking years to list out, these are special. These are rock stars that I have not met, yet I think I have an interesting story about not having met them.
I will start with Mr. Rock of Love Bus himself. I have not met anyone from the band Poison, but two or three of my shit faced sorority sisters have. One night while I was home at the sorority house nursing an ankle injury (which I'm sure was caused by tripping on the library stairs and not in a pot hole in front of a bar while on my way to pee in McDonalds where the lines were shorter), they blasted into my room to tell me that hey, guess what, they just hung out with Bret friggin' Michaels. They were happy to tell him about me and how much I loved him, but what the bitches were not able to do is drop a damn quarter in the f-ing pay phone (under 30's should wikipedia pay phone here) to tell me to get my ass down to the bar. Not that I would have let him out of my sight if I were in their shoes, but dammit I loved him, not them!! I mean who was CC in our friggin' airband for Sigma Chi Derby Days? ME! That's who! So they hung out with Bret. One of them even asked him if "he liked girl scouts (giggle giggle) we mean the shot, not actual girl scouts (hee hee)." And they then proceeded to do girl scout shots with him, whatever the hell those are. This was obviously early in his career as it sounded as though he spent some good quality time with them and NOT ONE of them had "surgical enhancements." The three of them are alive to this day only because I could not crutch across the room fast enough to beat them to death before the giggled their way back out.
Tomorrow we will discuss how I have not met Whitesnake.
I will start with Mr. Rock of Love Bus himself. I have not met anyone from the band Poison, but two or three of my shit faced sorority sisters have. One night while I was home at the sorority house nursing an ankle injury (which I'm sure was caused by tripping on the library stairs and not in a pot hole in front of a bar while on my way to pee in McDonalds where the lines were shorter), they blasted into my room to tell me that hey, guess what, they just hung out with Bret friggin' Michaels. They were happy to tell him about me and how much I loved him, but what the bitches were not able to do is drop a damn quarter in the f-ing pay phone (under 30's should wikipedia pay phone here) to tell me to get my ass down to the bar. Not that I would have let him out of my sight if I were in their shoes, but dammit I loved him, not them!! I mean who was CC in our friggin' airband for Sigma Chi Derby Days? ME! That's who! So they hung out with Bret. One of them even asked him if "he liked girl scouts (giggle giggle) we mean the shot, not actual girl scouts (hee hee)." And they then proceeded to do girl scout shots with him, whatever the hell those are. This was obviously early in his career as it sounded as though he spent some good quality time with them and NOT ONE of them had "surgical enhancements." The three of them are alive to this day only because I could not crutch across the room fast enough to beat them to death before the giggled their way back out.
Tomorrow we will discuss how I have not met Whitesnake.
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
School Day Dawning, Ode to Mommy
I think many of you are familiar with the awesome "children's" book "Go the F*ck to Sleep" by Adam Mansbach. It is awesome and hysterical. At some point I was told I should write a "children's" book myself. I did it in a day and even got myself an ISBN number. The problem is that I am not as artistic as I think I am, and when I tried to illustrate the darn thing, it looked like total crap to me. It became clear to me that this book is unlikely to pay for the kids to go to college. And it was unlikely that it will end up paying for a good shopping trip to Nordstrom. So, here is a preview...you probably shouldn't read it to your kids tonight.
The daylight has dawned
It's time to arise
I curse at my clock
And open my eyes
The kids are asleep
They don't look alive
If it was the weekend
They'd have been up by five
Their alarm is blaring
Next to the bed
I hold mirror to nose
To make sure they're not dead
I flip on the light
And shout my "hello"
I go take my shower
Are they up yet? Hell no!
I lay out their clothes
While singing off key
"Boys get up NOW
Or I'm getting Daddy!"
Suddenly movement
Two heads peaking out
You don't want to be there
When Dad starts to shout
Begrudgingly up
They shuffle downstairs
Then right to the table
To plop in their chairs
They have an opinion
On the clothes that I picked
It's considered success
If no one gets kicked
A striped shirt with argyle
I don't know what to say
I'm telling their teachers
Dad dressed them today
Now to put on their shoes
Thank God for Velcro
Will they know when they're 30
How to tie a damn bow?
I pack up their lunches
Within school policies
No sugar, no fat,
Don't forget allergies
I am getting the LOOK
From the older one's way
I'm reminded I missed
Yesterday's pizza day
Before we can leave
Everyday it's the same
Pry from the youngest
His video game
And then out of the house
They'll be late for the bell
But wait "Mom you forgot!
Today's show and tell!"
Ten more minutes go by
Until I finally release
"GET YOUR BUTTS IN THE CAR"
Neighbors call the police
They're finally listening
Buckling into their seats
"I WIN, I was first"
"No you weren't, MOM HE CHEATS"
The car ride's not quiet
The battle, you see
Is who gets to pick out
Which DVD
Five minutes later
Dropping off at their school
One shakes my hand
'Cause kissing ain't cool
I say my goodbyes
And go on my way
I am ready for bed
But must START my work day
The daylight has dawned
It's time to arise
I curse at my clock
And open my eyes
The kids are asleep
They don't look alive
If it was the weekend
They'd have been up by five
Their alarm is blaring
Next to the bed
I hold mirror to nose
To make sure they're not dead
I flip on the light
And shout my "hello"
I go take my shower
Are they up yet? Hell no!
I lay out their clothes
While singing off key
"Boys get up NOW
Or I'm getting Daddy!"
Suddenly movement
Two heads peaking out
You don't want to be there
When Dad starts to shout
Begrudgingly up
They shuffle downstairs
Then right to the table
To plop in their chairs
They have an opinion
On the clothes that I picked
It's considered success
If no one gets kicked
A striped shirt with argyle
I don't know what to say
I'm telling their teachers
Dad dressed them today
Now to put on their shoes
Thank God for Velcro
Will they know when they're 30
How to tie a damn bow?
I pack up their lunches
Within school policies
No sugar, no fat,
Don't forget allergies
I am getting the LOOK
From the older one's way
I'm reminded I missed
Yesterday's pizza day
Before we can leave
Everyday it's the same
Pry from the youngest
His video game
And then out of the house
They'll be late for the bell
But wait "Mom you forgot!
Today's show and tell!"
Ten more minutes go by
Until I finally release
"GET YOUR BUTTS IN THE CAR"
Neighbors call the police
They're finally listening
Buckling into their seats
"I WIN, I was first"
"No you weren't, MOM HE CHEATS"
The car ride's not quiet
The battle, you see
Is who gets to pick out
Which DVD
Five minutes later
Dropping off at their school
One shakes my hand
'Cause kissing ain't cool
I say my goodbyes
And go on my way
I am ready for bed
But must START my work day
Sunday, November 13, 2011
The Best Laid Plans
God has a sense of humor. It might not match your sense of humor at the moment, but it's there. Over the years I have learned not to say anything out loud that I do not want to see immediately reversed. For instance, I realized that I should never say my Mom or Dad were doing well because if I did, one of them would be admitted to the hospital within 24 hours. This also manifests itself with my children. I have stopped responding to people asking how they are because by the time I got back to my desk from the cafeteria, there would be a message from the school or daycare telling me to pick one of them up. If I somehow make the mistake of saying they are well and catch myself, I will search out the closest wood surface to knock on. I'm pretty sure it is this sense of irony and humor that was in play as I celebrated my 10th wedding anniversary.
To preface this, I had had exactly 1 other vacation alone with my Husband in about 8 years. So when my old boss and his wife (saints) offered to watch our kids at our house, we jumped at the chance. I'm a big fan of planning events, so I got to work planning my butt off. I found THE perfect place - Mohonk Mountain House. It was like a castle on a lake. With a highly rated spa for me and a lot of outdoor adventure for my Husband. Gourmet dinners in the main ballroom, scenic views, balconies with rocking chairs and wood burning fireplaces in the room. That place was built for romance! We would spend 4 days there and then we would celebrate our actual anniversary in NYC at the famed Waldorf Astoria with a dinner at a Greek Taverna to commemorate our honeymoon. Perfect. I set out to buy new dresses for every night's dinner. They were all dressier than they needed to be, but that is part of what makes me me.
I couldn't stop talking about the trip to anyone who would listen. Anyone, including my gynecologist. As luck would have it, he had actually been to Mohonk, so I sat there in a paper gown showing him pictures of my planned dinner dresses on my cell phone. It's always good to engage in casual conversation before someone sticks their hand in a rubber glove that is about to go...well, you know where.
The day before we left was full of packing and anticipation and my 4 year old's birthday and my period. My friggin' period, that's what I said. Just a little damper on the plans there, but that's okay, there were tons of other adventures awaiting us there. Such as...the coldest May week in history which was accompanied by fog and rain! Joy! To be quite honest, the weather had very little impact on me personally. I had booked myself so many spa appointments that it pretty much doubled the cost of the stay. But the hubby had planned on mountain biking, rock climbing and hiking. Oh my. All of these events were cancelled due to inclement weather. But you know what? It was a great time anyway.
What was not great was the final joke. We had one final lunch in the great room at Mohonk and then made our way to NY. It was on the way that I started feeling "not right". By the time we checked in to the Waldorf, I knew I would be ending the night with my head in the toilet. But until then, I was going to celebrate. So I put on the 2nd most expensive dress I had ever owned and we walked to the loudest Greek restaurant I had ever heard. I ordered the fried Feta appetizer and the grilled octopus dinner. As the stomach cramps grew stronger and higher in my stomach, we changed the order to go. Back at the hotel we exchanged gifts and I retired to the bedroom while my Husband ate alone and then fell asleep on the love seat with only the pillows for blankets. I, on the other hand, had every cover in the house on me, the bedroom heat on full blast, and I still shook so hard that my teeth chattered. Eventually I gave up and just slept on the marble bathroom floor.
The next day we went home when I could stand basically vertical again. That night was one of the most expensive epic fails in my history. But you know what was fan-friggin-tastic about it? First and foremost that it hadn't happened 10 years earlier. Second, that after 10 years, my Husband was still watching out for me and taking care of me. And third, that our babysitters sent me to bed when I got home and continued to take care of my family. It sure wasn't what I expected, but there was a whole lot of anniversary love! And I can laugh about it now. Sort of.
To preface this, I had had exactly 1 other vacation alone with my Husband in about 8 years. So when my old boss and his wife (saints) offered to watch our kids at our house, we jumped at the chance. I'm a big fan of planning events, so I got to work planning my butt off. I found THE perfect place - Mohonk Mountain House. It was like a castle on a lake. With a highly rated spa for me and a lot of outdoor adventure for my Husband. Gourmet dinners in the main ballroom, scenic views, balconies with rocking chairs and wood burning fireplaces in the room. That place was built for romance! We would spend 4 days there and then we would celebrate our actual anniversary in NYC at the famed Waldorf Astoria with a dinner at a Greek Taverna to commemorate our honeymoon. Perfect. I set out to buy new dresses for every night's dinner. They were all dressier than they needed to be, but that is part of what makes me me.
I couldn't stop talking about the trip to anyone who would listen. Anyone, including my gynecologist. As luck would have it, he had actually been to Mohonk, so I sat there in a paper gown showing him pictures of my planned dinner dresses on my cell phone. It's always good to engage in casual conversation before someone sticks their hand in a rubber glove that is about to go...well, you know where.
The day before we left was full of packing and anticipation and my 4 year old's birthday and my period. My friggin' period, that's what I said. Just a little damper on the plans there, but that's okay, there were tons of other adventures awaiting us there. Such as...the coldest May week in history which was accompanied by fog and rain! Joy! To be quite honest, the weather had very little impact on me personally. I had booked myself so many spa appointments that it pretty much doubled the cost of the stay. But the hubby had planned on mountain biking, rock climbing and hiking. Oh my. All of these events were cancelled due to inclement weather. But you know what? It was a great time anyway.
What was not great was the final joke. We had one final lunch in the great room at Mohonk and then made our way to NY. It was on the way that I started feeling "not right". By the time we checked in to the Waldorf, I knew I would be ending the night with my head in the toilet. But until then, I was going to celebrate. So I put on the 2nd most expensive dress I had ever owned and we walked to the loudest Greek restaurant I had ever heard. I ordered the fried Feta appetizer and the grilled octopus dinner. As the stomach cramps grew stronger and higher in my stomach, we changed the order to go. Back at the hotel we exchanged gifts and I retired to the bedroom while my Husband ate alone and then fell asleep on the love seat with only the pillows for blankets. I, on the other hand, had every cover in the house on me, the bedroom heat on full blast, and I still shook so hard that my teeth chattered. Eventually I gave up and just slept on the marble bathroom floor.
The next day we went home when I could stand basically vertical again. That night was one of the most expensive epic fails in my history. But you know what was fan-friggin-tastic about it? First and foremost that it hadn't happened 10 years earlier. Second, that after 10 years, my Husband was still watching out for me and taking care of me. And third, that our babysitters sent me to bed when I got home and continued to take care of my family. It sure wasn't what I expected, but there was a whole lot of anniversary love! And I can laugh about it now. Sort of.
Hi! I don't know what the F%#$ I'm doing!!
So...Hi. I'm Liz, Ms. Lizard if you're nasty. After having approximately 12 people at my corporate gig (aka full time job) tell me that I am in the wrong business, I Googled how to design a blog today. Amazing thing about that is that I went through the like 5 steps and waited to see when I would get my official, "OK, if you are sure you want to do this, click here" notification. But guess what? It didn't come! What it said was congrats, we have set up a blog for you. YOU DID? But what if I wasn't ready?? What if I don't like the name Salt Lizard for my pen name? What if people think the name Lizard Unfiltered is boring? I mean I only put in 4 minutes of thought because you were supposed to warn me I was committing!!! I'm not afraid of commitment. I am, however, afraid of looking like a dumbass in front of people. So, this initial post is my big disclaimer. I walked up to the cliff, I looked over the edge, I said "hey, I wonder what's down there" and the friggin' face of the cliff fell off and plunged me into the depths of blogggggghood. That's where I am now. Glad we're on the same page. So, forgive me if I'm boring - I will try not to be. Forgive me for not coming up with a better name. Forgive me for not having a solid plan for what I'm going to blab on about (I feel like I am on the Next Food Network Star without a solid Point of View and the judges are pissed). Let's get to know each other and maybe it will give you an idea of what to expect from me.
I'm a married Mom of 2. I am not a Supermom. I work full time in corporate America. I would not survive as a stay at home Mom. They are the coolest kids in the entire world to me, but they would EAT ME ALIVE. My boys are 4 and 7 and they make me laugh (and scream) every day. And they will provide endless material for my posts. My Facebook friends know this to be true.
Why Salt Lizard? Because in college Liz became Lizard. And because I have an "affinity" for salt. To describe the affinity, my family is convinced that when my body is exhumed 100 years after death, I will still be perfectly preserved. I have, on 2 occasions, given up salt as a Lenten challenge to myself. I basically ended up putting soy sauce on everything.
And why Lizard Unfiltered? I have what I like to refer to as "Estelle Getty Syndrome." It relates to the character that she played on Golden Girls - Sophia. If she thought it, she said it. Unfortunately, this does not always lead to the most politically accepted comments in the work place. I have learned, on rare occasions, to actually keep my mouth closed. As people looked at me in amazement, I credited my silence to buying myself a filter from Home Depot. For the purposes of this blog, I imagine the filter will be removed. It needs cleaning anyway.
What are my likes and dislikes? I like to laugh, usually at inappropriate times and statements. I am sarcastic. I like fashion and shoes and makeup and shopping. I like wearing 6 inch heels and sequins to work and I like flipping off the people who ask me if I'm going to the disco later. I like fast sexy sports cars but I drive an f'n minivan and I am embarrassed to tell you how much I love that stinkin' thing. I love hanging out with my kids and my friends. I like massages and have not ever found one which lasts long enough. I like cooking, but not baking. I like making bologna art for my kids and I am certain at least one blog will be about that. My musical taste ended in the very early 90s and I still love 80s hair bands. I love a lot. What don't I love? I cannot stand political rants and controversy. I cannot stand when people hate someone because of the color of their skin or the religion that they practice or the person that they love. I cannot stomach stupid and will take every opportunity to mock it.
So that's me. And for a while, I imagine I'll be writing this for my own benefit. But hopefully, eventually, a few of you will come along with me for the ride. Just roll down your windows and blast Guns n Roses. You'll almost forget we're riding in a minivan.
I'm a married Mom of 2. I am not a Supermom. I work full time in corporate America. I would not survive as a stay at home Mom. They are the coolest kids in the entire world to me, but they would EAT ME ALIVE. My boys are 4 and 7 and they make me laugh (and scream) every day. And they will provide endless material for my posts. My Facebook friends know this to be true.
Why Salt Lizard? Because in college Liz became Lizard. And because I have an "affinity" for salt. To describe the affinity, my family is convinced that when my body is exhumed 100 years after death, I will still be perfectly preserved. I have, on 2 occasions, given up salt as a Lenten challenge to myself. I basically ended up putting soy sauce on everything.
And why Lizard Unfiltered? I have what I like to refer to as "Estelle Getty Syndrome." It relates to the character that she played on Golden Girls - Sophia. If she thought it, she said it. Unfortunately, this does not always lead to the most politically accepted comments in the work place. I have learned, on rare occasions, to actually keep my mouth closed. As people looked at me in amazement, I credited my silence to buying myself a filter from Home Depot. For the purposes of this blog, I imagine the filter will be removed. It needs cleaning anyway.
What are my likes and dislikes? I like to laugh, usually at inappropriate times and statements. I am sarcastic. I like fashion and shoes and makeup and shopping. I like wearing 6 inch heels and sequins to work and I like flipping off the people who ask me if I'm going to the disco later. I like fast sexy sports cars but I drive an f'n minivan and I am embarrassed to tell you how much I love that stinkin' thing. I love hanging out with my kids and my friends. I like massages and have not ever found one which lasts long enough. I like cooking, but not baking. I like making bologna art for my kids and I am certain at least one blog will be about that. My musical taste ended in the very early 90s and I still love 80s hair bands. I love a lot. What don't I love? I cannot stand political rants and controversy. I cannot stand when people hate someone because of the color of their skin or the religion that they practice or the person that they love. I cannot stomach stupid and will take every opportunity to mock it.
So that's me. And for a while, I imagine I'll be writing this for my own benefit. But hopefully, eventually, a few of you will come along with me for the ride. Just roll down your windows and blast Guns n Roses. You'll almost forget we're riding in a minivan.
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