Wah! I’m all alone. All my writing buds are in Dallas for the National conference — Precious, Rhonda, Vicki, Rita, Melinda, The Playground Playfriends–and I’m not.

I had made the decision months ago not to go. I didn’t care for Dallas when I went before and I thought this year I’d give myself a break. It’s the first time in seven years I haven’t been. And now it just feels weird.

Technically, ALL of my friends aren’t there. Anna and Susan and Susan aren’t there. It still feels weird.

Anyhoo, I’ll just sit here and work.

I can’t take it any longer. I simply can’t take the semi-literate postings any more. Often when I finish reading an article on the Internet, I’ll scroll down to read the first set of postings by other readers. It is appalling.

I’m no purist. I’m wordy, I can’t spell worth a darn and I often write in incomplete sentences — I know this about myself. However, the majority of the postings I read are chock full of pathetic misspellings and grammatical atrocities. We are talking in the ninety percentile here. Don’t these people own a dictionary? I pick up a dictionary several times a week. (In fact, I had to look up the proper spelling of “misspelling.” How about a quick proof-read before hitting that send key?

Are they uneducated? Simply lazy? A sad combination of both? I dunno. More often than not I am left rolling my eyes and shaking my head. It gives so much more weight and validation to a thought or sentiment when it’s expressed correctly. For God’s sake, if the person posting is going to call someone a “terd” in a public forum, at least manage to spell it correctly. Otherwise one may be left thinking, “I may be a turd, but you’re stupid.”

Girl has a friend who really likes to talk on the phone. My daughter, however, is not one who chats on the phone. It’s just not her thing. This friend will call several times a day. If we’re in the middle of doing something and don’t answer the phone, she doesn’t leave a message. She simply hangs up and CALLS MY CELL PHONE. If I don’t answer (sometimes I’m on the other line or busy), then she hangs up and calls the house…again.

Finally, I had enough.:cursing:

The next time she ran through the routine, about half an hour, I picked up my cell phone, “Friend, this is Girl’s Mom. Do not call my cell phone again. If you want to talk to her, call and leave a message at home but DO NOT call my cell phone. Thanks.”:fryingpan:

I wasn’t rude. I didn’t yell. I just told her…in a firm manner.

A couple of days later Girl says, “Friend says you scared her.” She laughed and then tacked on, “I told her you were that way a lot of times.”

Scary is a good thing when you’re The Mom.:bat::happy2:

I’m not big on shopping. I particularly HATE going to the mall. This weekend I discovered a beautiful way to shop. Outlet mall. Truly. A beautiful thing. In an hour and a half we visited five stores and did some great back-to-school shopping for girl. Fast and efficient.

Then I dumped her with her father and did the shopping I LIKE. Kitchen stuff. I was pathetically happy tracking down an egg slicer and a clay roaster.

This holiday in the middle of the week business isn’t working for me. How can it already be Friday when we were just “off” day before yesterday? Nope. All holidays should fall on a Monday or Friday, thereby giving everyone a long weekend. That works. I’ll send a memo to the people in charge of holidays and let them know.:mrgreen:

Girl has discovered Grease. Ya know, the movie…Olivia Newton-John and John Travolta and Summer Nights. She LOVES it! We have cable rewind. She and her little buddy watched one scene 58 times in a day and a half. She cleaned the laundry room, the downstairs, and cleaned out her closet to earn the cd and the movie. :devil:

So, now we’re cruising down the street, windows down, sunroof open, me, Girl and her friend all singing You better shape up, cause I need a man at the top of our lungs along with Olivia Newton-John. :thankyou: It’s funny and kind of weird. I was 15 when the movie came out in 1978. I definitely remember singing along to the album with my friends. And now 30 years later, my daughter has the same reaction.

But it leaves me wondering what makes this a “classic” (and I use that term lightly, just in terms that it still appeals to kids 30 years later same as it did then)? Is it that, despite the differences between 2007, 1975, and 1958, essentially boy meets girl and how he/she behaves doesn’t really change? Is it just fun, catchy tunes and a “light” story that flirts with cautionary tales (drinking, smoking, sex, unplanned pregnancy, and street racing) but never really takes you there, so you can just enjoy the feel good?

I am a terrible family member.

I DO NOT want to go to a water park today and parade around in a bathing suit with a bunch of other people frighteningly parading around in theirs.:wallbash:

I DO NOT want to go to a theme park and walk around in the heat and ride rides that might wind up killing or maiming me.

I DO NOT want to do anything that requires me to go outside where I will have to slather up with sunscreen and then still burn while I’m sweating through a coating of SPF 60. :thumbsdown:

I also DO NOT like crowds so the idea of driving anywhere (and traffic will be bad EVERYWHERE) to watch fireworks isn’t my cup of tea. I can skip fireworks altogether.:evil:

Unfortunately, these are all tried and true July 4th activities. :doh:

I’ve reassured myself that I’m a fun person. I like to do things. Just not those things. I’m willing to walk out on the back deck to flip burgers on the grill today. I think I’ll suggest bowling. I’m a terrible bowler, but it’s air-conditioned, it shouldn’t be bad traffic to get there, and I wouldn’t think it would be crowded today.:bowdown:

Okay, so be thankful today that you’re not stuck with my party-pooping butt and have a safe, happy July 4th!

A woman meets a man in a bar. They talk; they connect; they end up leaving together. They get back to his place, and as he shows her around his apartment, she notices that one wall of his bedroom is completely filled with soft, sweet, cuddly teddy bears.

There are three shelves in the bedroom with hundreds and hundreds of cute, cuddly teddy bears, carefully placed in rows covering the entire wall!

It was obvious that he had taken quite some time to lovingly arrange them and she was immediately touched by the amount of thought he had put into organizing the display. There were small bears all along the bottom shelf, medium-sized bears covering the length of the middle shelf, and huge, enormous bears running all the way along the top shelf. She found it strange for an obviously masculine guy to have such a large a collection of Teddy Bears, but doesn’t mention this to him, and actually is quite impressed by his sensitive side.

They share a bottle of wine and continue talking and, after a while, she finds herself thinking, “Oh my God! Maybe, this guy could be the one! Maybe he could be the future father my children?” She turns to him and kisses him lightly on the lips. He responds warmly.

They continue to kiss, the passion builds, and he romantically lifts her in his arms and carries her into his bedroom where they rip off each other’s clothes and make hot, steamy love.

She is so overwhelmed that she responds with more passion, more creativity, more heat than she has ever known, and even did a few
things she had never done with any other man.

After an intense, explosive night of raw passion with this sensitive guy, they are lying there together in the afterglow. The woman rolls over, gently strokes his chest and asks coyly, “Well, how was it?” The guy gently smiles at her, strokes her cheek, looks deeply into her eyes, and says………………….

“Help yourself to any prize from the middle shelf.”

:happy2::happy2::happy2:

Hah! Gotcha!!