Pink Asparagus

Recently I was informed that I’m doing much better in crowds than I used to. How’d this come up? We were riding the mall shuttle and I didn’t hyper-ventilate I suppose. As for this “bubble” that my dear beloved claims I have, I call it personal space. Everyone needs some. I don’t need people I don’t know standing right next to me. Ever. Getting in my grill, if you like.

Which in my stream-of-consciousness brain leads to the topic of public bathroom manners.

Imagine three stalls. The row begins just past the sinks. The last stall is bounded by a wall. If you’re the only person in there, which stall do you choose? The first because statistics say it’s most likely to be the cleanest? The end because its coincidentally the handicapped stall and you like the extra space? Or the middle stall? The bathroom only services two corporate suites on the floor. Which do you choose?

If the restroom is empty, don’t choose the middle one. Why? Well, now when I wander in there I am forced to do my business RIGHT NEXT TO YOU. If you had chosen one of the ends, we’d still be separated by an empty stall. We would have a buffer zone. A DMZ. Not that either of us should be making any noises. At all. It is, after all, a shared space. And! girls don’t poop. So, there’s no need to make noise. Ever.

Also, a public restroom is not a place to carry on a conversation. For one, you never know whose toes those are sticking out from under the door. (Not that you would look, right?) If you and I head into a public multi-stall restroom together I will talk to you right up to the point my hand touches the stall door. I will stop mid-sentence if necessary. After that? My invisible shield goes up and I can no longer hear you. You can choose to talk. I will not answer. I am busy. And if I finish the task at hand before you, I will not answer you if you are still sitting on the can. Period. We can regroup at the sinks.

Hmm, in black and white like this is sort of sounds like I have an issue.

Nah.

Do you talk to people in the bathroom?

The few tributes I’ve read of George Carlin all left off a very approachable part of his career. As any good train mom knows, he narrated the Thomas the Tank Engine series for some time. These are some of the best episodes. He brought the words to life. He wasn’t just reading a book, he was telling a story. I liked those episodes. I didn’t want to shove hot pokers in my ears. Alec Baldwin just reads words, might as well be our dearly departing president reading from a teleprompter for all the inflection he gives Thomas & Friends.

What will Cars 2 do without the original Fillmore?

In other news, we might have to take up watching Thomas & Friends again. Pierce Brosnan is the new narrator. Mommy could do with a little Bond. James Bond.

Hmm … apparently I read the wrong news sources, the Mercury News has an obit recognizing his influence on our kids.

If she says all the cool kids are doing something, then far be it from me not to be a follower.

How to perform participate do the Mosaic Meme

• Type your answer to each of the questions below into Flickr Search.
• Using only the first page, pick an image.
• Copy and paste each of the URLs for the images into fd’s Flickr Toys: mosaic maker.

The Questions:

1. What is your first name?
2. What is your favorite food? right now?
3. What high school did you attend?
4. What is your favorite color?
5. Who is your celebrity crush?
6. Favorite drink?
7. Dream vacation?
8. Favorite dessert?
9. What you want to be when you grow up?
10. What do you love most in life?
11. One Word to describe you.
12. Your flickr name.

1. St. Catherine’s Church, 2. A Berry Good Day, 3. Maui at night, 4. vintage tea set with cupcake, 5. john travolta, 6. first juleps of the season, 7. Roatan Beach - Perfect Day !!! 25000 + views and 200 + faves - Thank you - Janusz, 8. 182/365- Just Peachy, 9. What Is Truly Indecent?, 10. Untitled, I searched “kisses” and got a little kitten face 11. Dressing Room, 12. Pandcat, Catda

Tag, you’re it. Leave a comment so I know to come look at your mosaic.

Thanks Gary!

When we were young and in love we lived in an apartment and planted a teeny tiny container herb garden. When we moved to our first house I dutifully transferred each herb from the pot into our new garden. Nearly everything did well. We had a prolific rosemary plant until the house painters trampled it. But one thing we could never kill? The mint. It started out at a $1.79 plant and grew to take over the world. Fortunately it was in a bed that was concrete on three sides and the fourth side was the underneath of the porch, so I didn’t much care about spreading there. Peter would often weed whack the plant to keep it tidy. I would trim it back for my mint julep fix. We didn’t regret its placement, but we knew were lucky it didn’t creep across the sidewalk and choke out the lawn.

New house means new mint. This time around I bought chocolate mint. And put it in a pot. Good thing I did. Less than a month later and it’s filled the pot. Also, if I hadn’t? I might have incurred the wrath of the blogosphere like smart, pretty Mir did.

What does one do with chocolate mint? Chocolate mint juleps? Chocolate mojitos? What?

We rung in the official start of summer with a trip to the pool followed by ice cream.

my moo cards, in preparation for BlogHer

Now all I need is an eyebrow wax. If I run out of time I’ll resort to eau de cashew like the Planter’s Unibrow girl.

Photo (C) 2008 Photonburst.

This is us at Laura’s perfect wedding. This is me in a dress that I loved. This is Peter thinking, “oh shit - now I have to shop with her ALL the time.”

HE chose the dress. The three that I chose? All no go. The wedding was at 6:30pm, that dress became mine at 5:00pm. I think this is what happens when you don’t have children in tow, you can have thoughts that don’t revolve around snacks and puddles and rocks and touching things. Well, I did think about touching things … like my new dress.

We took complete advantage of attending a grown-up event, going so far as to get an overnight babysitter. We started our 20 hours sans children by going to Denver, checking into the magnificent Magnolia and then having a late, small lunch in LoDo.

As we headed back to our hotel I decided I needed something different to wear to the wedding. The three choices I had brought were insufficient. We stopped in Dress Barn (and yes the name of the store is unfortunate, but it is what it is), I found a few things to try on and we headed into the first changing stall. After trying a few things a sales lady rapped on the door and told Peter he had to leave the stall. No inappropriate noises were coming from the stall. And, I purposely chose the first one, the one that was nearly in the store so it would be clear we weren’t being inappropriate. Nevertheless, they have a “policy” against men in dressing rooms or so we were told as we left with our hands empty. My biggest question is, what about transvestites? This part of Denver is ripe shopping ground for men that like women’s clothing. The Payless Shoesource next door is the only place that I know that carries a wide variety of size 11 womens dress shoes.

We walked across the street to Ross where Peter found the perfect party dress. I tried not to think about how much I wished I had Purell with me at that moment. The store is a little skeevy. Although, every time I go in there I find something fantastic. Or in this case Peter finds something fantastic.

I knew he wasn’t just being nice when a stranger on the mall shuttle (a little bus that runs the length of 16th Street) complimented me on the dress. I think it all came together with the shoes he bought me for Mother’s Day.

Maybe I can make a few extra bucks pimping out my metrosexual husband as a personal shopper?

Friday was the sort of weather that I wish would last all summer. It was warm, but not hot. Breezy but not windy. Perfect for hanging clothes, and a kitty, out on the line.

I like hanging our laundry out on the line. But not in the winter. The idea of frozen stiff blue jeans doesn’t appeal to me. For half a year our dryer gets a break. It makes up for our A/C use, keeping our electric consumption pretty steady throughout the year.

Also, it’s a few minutes outside by myself. No kids want to come with me because they know they’ll be put to work. It also keeps the laundry sane for me. You can’t do marathon laundry when you hang clothes on a line. There are only so many clothes pin and so much line.

Last year when we decided to get a clothes line I read and read about hanging clothes out. There’s one thing everyone agrees on: use fabric softener. Your ass will thank you when your underwear don’t feel like sandpaper. I use a fairly standard “tops from the bottom, bottoms from the top” approach. Few of our clothes require ironing after hanging out. I think our clothes launder better too. The sun helps bleach our whites. And since I have to touch each article as its being hung, I can see which shirts of Audrey’s need to be re-washed. (How is it the girl child stains more shirts than her brother ever did?)

A laundry line is good for the environment, our clothes, our electric bill and my sanity. I’m glad we do it. I’m glad our neighbor with the split rail fence tolerates it. And I’m glad I live in an HOA-free neighborhood. It feels good to do something simple. Simply.

My friend Laura is fantastic for a million different reasons. Among them is that she’s six feet tall and still wears high heels. Her wow factor is high. And because I lack any true creativity I always think of her while listening to Scissor Sisters’ Laura. I think to myself that when I one day make her a mix cd, this song will definitely be on it. (She made a cd for me for my birthday where the first line from the first song is, “I am an old woman.” She claims it was unintentional. She’s crafty, so I don’t know whether to believe her.)

She got married this weekend! The ceremony was lovely, her father officiated. The ceremony and reception were both at the Wnykoop Brewery. It was a great venue. It was casual and fun and warm and inclusive, just like her. Also, it’s owned by Denver’s mayor, John Hickenlooper (that’s your trivia for the day, you’re welcome).

It couldn’t happen to two nicer people. Congratulations to you both.

And just so I don’t blow my blog-fodder wad all at once, I’ll save the details of the non-wedding specific events for tomorrow.

* blog titles: Must they reference the content of the post? Follow up question, if they do reference the content may they be enigmatic or must they be straight to the point? This title is pulled from the Laura lyrics. So it does tie back, but not in crisp straight lines.