Lightening Up

After my last post, I thought I better get back to showing my lighter side, lest anyone think I was planning to fill my pockets with rocks and drown myself in the Guadalupe River.

I was also compelled to throw you a bone here because I will be leaving town on Thursday for one of my act-like-a-lawyer trips. This one is in San Francisco, so I've already looked at the seminar schedule to determine which lectures to skip. Otherwise, I will find myself sitting in a generic hotel ballroom that could just as well be in Cleveland or Waco or anywhere in Oklahoma.

So here are a few of my latest scraps of crap, in no particular order, but I think I saved the best for last:

Just a Word or Two

First, I know that I have put the brakes on the whole "words I like/words I hate" thing, but I just have two words I need to add. After rambling on in a recent e-mail about her lackluster life, my mom sarcastically suggested that I must be "agog" at the level of excitement she has to manage on a daily basis. I was surprised that agog had not already made the list. I intend to make an effort to employ that handy word at every opportunity from now on. It's just so descriptive. Don't you just see the wide-eyed, drop-jawed shocked stare of it? The other word I need to add is "hunker" as in "hunker down." It's a word that blows in with hurricane season. It's kind of an old person word, so I don't much like it. I think the people at the Weather Channel should come up with something a little more festive-sounding, you know, just to make hurricanes and tornadoes seem less threatening.

Shop Talk

The other day, as I was comforting my fragile psyche with some shoe-shopping (which is what I do when I can't afford to go to a spa or an opium den), I overheard the woman next to me answer her cell phone in a very professional-sounding voice. This is of course not unusual. But then I heard her say (as she tried on a nice pair of peep-toe pumps), "Yes sir. In fact I'm at my desk working on it right now. I should be able to e-mail it to you by the end of the day . . ." I glanced over at her and smiled. She gave me a wink, put her finger to her lips, and said, "Shhhh." I had to laugh because I should have been at home working myself. It's nice being your own boss.

If I leave the house during office hours, I forward my work number to my cell phone just in case I need to conduct any business in the Taco Cabana drive-thru line. I've been known to have consultations with potential clients while shopping. And I can sound completely professional, unless or until the person on the other end hears something like, "Attention Ross shoppers . . ." I once even settled a case from the Nordstrom dressing room. How's that for multitasking?

On another of my recent self-nurturing shopping excursions (this time on a quest for the perfect brown skirt), I walked out of the store empty-handed. As I left, a clerk asked me, "Did you find what you needed?" I looked at her quizzically, held out my empty hands, and said, "Well . . . NO, but thanks." As the door shut behind me, I thought, "Duh!"

By the way, I think it's cruel when stores arrange their women's clothing department such that the larger "Women" sizes are right next to the "Petites."

I keep forgetting to share this little gem. When she was pregnant, a friend of mine went shopping at one of those stores like Lane Bryant. A saleslady asked if she needed any help. My friend held up a dress and said, "Yeah . . . do you have this in a 14 Wide?" The woman promptly corrected her with, "The W is for Women."

Katy's Quotes

Katy had to write sentences with her spelling words last week. One of the words was "juvenile." Her sentence: "I don't want to go to juvenile." When I read that, Katy asked what was so funny. I wasn't sure how to answer. Then she asked, "Isn't that kid jail?" Now I have another tool in my arsenal of punishment threats.

The Price of Country Living

Now that so many people followed our lead and moved north of town, the traffic into San Antonio in the mornings and out of San Antonio in the afternoons has become a disastrous joke. For one thing, the stoplights are not synchronized at all. (Typical San Antonio.) And green lights allow two-and-a-half cars to get through, while the red lights stay red for about 45 minutes. And don't get me started on the wimps in front of me when a yellow light hits. I can't tell you how many times I've almost rear-ended someone when they didn't have the balls to floor it so I could get that split second before the light turned completely red.

When we lived in Clovis, New Mexico, we always said that the town was so small, even when you were running late you could still be on time. That was no joke.

A Sign From the Department of Redundancy Department

So the kids and I went to Mike's church softball game last Friday night. As we entered the ballpark, I could not help but notice a large warning sign for all the park's patrons. It said, (I kid you not): "No Animals Permitted Including Cats And Dogs." What prompted this wording? Did someone try to bring a llama or an emu into the park? I took a picture of the sign with my phone, so as soon as can I post it for your entertainment, I will.

'Shrooms

When I see mushrooms in my fridge, I wonder whether I bought them or they grew there. I'm afraid I'm really becoming my mother. She pulled an old jar of those little sliced mushrooms from the back of her fridge, opened it, and saw something she said looked like a liver fluke. Now I'm not sure what that is, but my mom and I came up with a pretty good definition. When she e-mailed me about this highlight of her day, the subject line read only "fluke?" I thought I was going to read about some random, unexpected event. We decided that whatever it was that she saw in that jar was indeed random and unexpected. Hence, fluke.

That's My Boy

I overheard big brother Luke advising little sister Katy, "Now that you're in third grade, don't rush it. These are good times for you. Before you know it, it'll be over." Tell me more, O wise sixth-grader.

This really could be one of my School of Rock stories. Let me start by saying that I iron only on an as-needed basis. I would almost rather pay to take something to the cleaners than to iron it. But because I'm a lazy cheapskate, I just don't iron, and never wear a lot of my clothes for that reason. Mike is the same way about ironing, but he has been known to wear wrinkled clothes. I hate it when he does that, because it makes me look like a bad housewife. (Which I am, but that's beside the point.) So last weekend, Mike got a wild hair (I think it's actually hare, but hair is way funnier) and decided to iron some of his shirts. As Mike set up the ironing board and iron, Luke started singing Black Sabbath's Iron Man: "I AM IRON MAN! Nah-nah, Nah-nah-nah, Nanah, Nanah, Nanah, Nah, Nah-nah-nah, Has he lost his mind? Can he see or is he blind? . . . " Again we see the pure genius in our ever-so-well-rounded sixth-grader. Not only can he sing a song from 1970 as he imitates Ozzy Osbourne's voice, but he can create such an apt and clever (and dare I say, beautiful) reference. Wish I had thought of it. Mike and I were so proud. Ironically, (get it? ironically?) it was probably too much Black Sabbath that robbed my mind of such quick wit.

Who am I kidding? I'm still witty. Just not as quick.