Addicted to Summer

What a glorious weekend. Heaps of sunshine. Took the kids to meet friends at the Roc City Rib Fest, dined on free food (i.e., delicious pulled pork, ribs and brisket) courtesy of Bob at Slow Hand BBQ, watched the Dan Eaton band perform under the gazebo and took a walk along the beach.

Earlier in the day, we watched Monkey's Little League game. As I sat with the other wives listening to them talk about their upcoming summers playing tennis, golfing and swimming at CCR and TCR, I was feeling a little jealous. It reminded me of when I was working at Xerox and my girlfriends with little kids would call me. "We're putting together a haunted house. What are you doing?" Oh just sitting in a cubicle analyzing data for hours/days/months without speaking to anyone for hours/days/months. The worst possible job for someone who needs interaction (i.e., me). While they're now two of the hardest working friends I have, they spent time at home while their kids were still young. I want a piece of that.

Do I dare ask my boss for two months of four day weeks after she nixed the idea last year? Or just buy Lotto tickets?

In an unrelated note (but somewhat topical related to wealth vs. my life), women pay big bucks for collagen injections to plump up their lips. We invested in the lesser known, but highly desired, lip-sucking kitten. As a result, I have a swollen upper lip and am having difficulty speaking. No joke. But boy do I look hot.

In closing, a song that the kids made me download for them over the weekend but, as always, music that Aunt Sue won't enjoy.

London Calling

I dreamed last night that I was in an apartment in London throwing on clothes. I was late for a professional meeting and still wearing my bathing suit. Once dressed, I stepped in my private jet with my girlfriend Meg to fly home. It was a wild, freewheeling flight and I had to relax and trust that all would be well. As we flew over Giant stadium (which was a glorious bright green) and then over two large hotels outside of NYC, I stated to some man who was next to me, "I would like to buy one of those hotels. Would you see if either is on the market and what they're asking?"

I then turned to Meg and said, "If you asked me before, I would have told you that I didn't need much money to live well -- but now that I have it, I realize how easily it is to fall into comfort. Before, I would never have bought a $500 bra but now that I know that it feels like butter, I wouldn't dream of anything less." I added that having my own plane made it easier to come home often and I loved that I could see my mom whenever I wanted. She agreed.

Then this morning (sadly back to reality), I was on the phone with my mom and she asked, "Did you just say something about London?" Uh no
. . . but I'm willing to entertain any thread of insanity that will take me back to that luxurious life I was leading a few hours ago.

Amen to That

Two nights ago, as I was putting the boys to bed, son #2 curled up into his pillow so I couldn’t see his face and began whispering. I asked him if he was praying. He repeatedly insisted that he wasn’t but I could hear him pleading, “please, please, please.”

He then said, “Mama, if I tell you, then it won’t come true.”

“Monkey, you’re confusing wishes with prayer. It’s good to pray out loud with others – that way we can all pray with you.”

“Dear God, please let my mom stay home to play with us this summer.”

Uh, you might want to ask for an alternate income stream, preferably a financial windfall, with that request. Then, we're good to go