The Toenail

Listen, we all know someone who has a wonky, funky, freaky, diseased toenail.  I too have a relative with a yellowed, funky, scaly toenail.  Sometimes late at night when I am lying in bed I think about the toenail and I shudder in grossitude.  Once I had a dream about the toenail, that everyone had a wonky toenail except me and I was being hunted "Lord of The Flies Style" for not having "The Toenail".  When summer comes I know that the toenail will come over to visit, rearing its ugly little head from a bright colorful flip flop.  I can't help myself from focusing on it, thinking about it..yes I'm obsessed with "The Toenail".  I guess I don't understand how the toenail came to be and why one wouldn't do anything to change the toenail's appearance.  I admit that I have chuckled to myself as I thought about asking this relative to let me take a picture of myself next to the toenail for my facebook profile.  Ahh toenail, I know you'll be at every holiday get together and this gives me security...oh toenail, you never let me down.

Is it For Us?

Is there any more stressful moment at work than when a pizza arrives in a department and the odor wafts through the floor. The thing is that, we all want a piece of that hot steamy pizza, but we are not sure if we are entitled to it.  We become P.I.'s in the quest to discover who that pizza is for.   This all has to be done casually so that no one thinks that you are a pig or a pizza interloper. You'll notice a greater degree of activity as folks walk by the pizza on their various errands to the printer, copier, and fax machine, hoping to discover who that pizza is for. Now, in the caveman days, a hunter would kill a mastodon and bring the giant steamy leg to the cave floor, plunk it down and all would dive on it like wolves and chow down.  So see we have the instinct to dive on the food and we can't help ourselves from the pizza hover.   Then comes the second part of the pizza dilemma..see everyone will generally take one slice until someone like you has the audacity to take 2 slices.  Ever  notice that once you do take 2 slices, all the folks behind you take it as a license to go to town.  I have seen folks take 4 slices at one time.  Now the folks who have gone before you and have only taken one slice feel gypped and will begin to eat faster so they can get back in line to get their second slice which by now they feel they are entitled to. Finally, there is always that one older lady who we all know wants to take the leftover pizza home but has to formulate a plan to make us talk her into taking it.  She'll hover over the pizza every hour or two encouraging, nay, insisting that we all have another slice so it doesnt go to waste.  She'll haunt us with this and also with various statements about how her husband loves pizza, her little grandson who is visiting loves pizza etc until we finally say "Hey Betty, why dont you take the leftover pizza home"? At which she'll surprisedly respond are you sure?  Well if its just going to go to waste. then I will.  I for one, always enjoy watching the dynamics of the pizza arrival..it never seems to deviate from the pattern.

The Road to Boston is Paved With Dunkin Donuts

Well I'm off and running with my new blog.  I thank you dear friend for stopping by.  I spent a few days this weekend in Marlborough, a suburb of Boston and it was beautiful there.  Leaves were changing and with the fall air, well I could fall in love again there.  I have a 10 year old son Sam and am married to Andy and have been for like 14 years.  Now what I find amazing is how my husband changes when we are with other people.  At home he generally grunts answers to my questions, basically ignores me and has no opinion on anything.  Well, when we get in a social situation I overhear him discussing the middle east situation, the federal deficit, Paris Hilton's arrest, you name it. So of course with any trip, all the responsibility is on me to pack for everyone.  One time Andy packed for himself and called me from Phoenix to tell me that he had forgotten to pack dress shirts. He had the suits but no shirts.  Come on girls, do you live for those moments?  I stopped what I was doing and started doing the superiority dance. So we get to the Holiday Inn Marlborough, which by the way was beautiful, and I realize in the floor to ceiling mirror, how awful I look in my jeans.  I looked like a bratwurst stuffed in a casing.  So now I know we have to go to the restaurant for dinner and all I brought were these jeans.  So I suck it up, promise myself that I will diet the minute my feet hit NY soil and wear the jeans.  Now at this point in the day, my son Sam has refused to eat anything unless it was potato based..fries, hash browns..he has eaten nothing else.  So of course he orders a meal with fries, and I know he will only eat the fries, and I get the Caesar Salad thinking I am being good.  Andy gets the King Henry VIII burger.  Isn't it funny how well you get to know your spouse when you see what he's eating, remember that he has acid reflux, and know what your evening will be like.  True to form he snored all night, as I lay there hour after hour..wondering if I could put a pillow on his face, could I get away with it, could I make it look like an accident?  So I finally fall asleep like 2 am only to awoken by my son who was sick from all the deep fried products he had eaten during the day.  So the next morning, we get up and have a wedding to go to.  The wedding was at Longfellow's Wayside Inn, and true to form it was gorge (Goregous) complete with Fife and Drum musicians, horses and buggies.. beautiful!! The wedding was a small intimate affair of only about 50 people stuffed into a small room which was about 85 degrees.  So for some reason I wore a shirt and a jacket, and I thought I looked good, but my husband remarked that morning that the ruffled shirt I had chosen for the wedding made me look like I had giant breast implants. Not exactly the look I was going for.  So it goes without saying that I was uncomfortable all day, and thought that everyone was staring at my giant breasts. Now mind you I had no other option to change into.  So, have you ever been in a small, hot room and the speakers are talking and talking about who knows what and you start having these thoughts...what if I projectile vomit?  What if I have an attack of Tourette's, what if I faint and take a header into the next table?  So then to add to the pressure, they wanted people to stand up in front of everyone and make a few remarks to the newlyweds (oh and did I mention) that the remarks would be videotaped?  Well I didnt speak and was praying that they werent going to make me.  We were so packed in that there was no escape.   So right after the wedding we have to change and hit the 400 mile drive back to NY.  Now while everyone was relaxing earlier in the day before the wedding, and I was running around the hotel room, repacking, dressing my son etc.  No one was offering to help me with anything and by no one I mean Andy :).  So we go after the wedding to change into our "road clothes" and my husband is shocked and appalled at the choices of clothes I had made for him.  Yeah, so help me next time eh?  We left Mass about 5pm and know that we wont be home until midnight.  My son decides at about 8 pm that he is scared  in the back seat of the Malibu and needs me to ride with him. Now a Malibu is a pretty small car and its not like Sam is in the back of a giant bus or anything and I decide to ride with him.  So I drove about 300 miles with my knees to my chest in this tiny back seat. My son making me play this game called," Who am I", in which each person that he was, was some sort of Pokemon character.  I could never get the right answer and so had to keep allowing him to have another turn. At each rest area in NY they have wonderful food like Dunkin Donuts. They have my favorite donuts, the iced ones with sprinkles and in fall color sprinkles, and I want one so bad but luckily (and I'm saying this sarcastically) Andy was there to remind me of how fat I looked in my jeans. Now Monday morning when they all leave, I'm going to Dunkin and get me the damn sprinkle donut and I'm gonna eat it in the car right there in the parking lot..Kirstie Alley style.  Now I'm counting the minutes until we get home and we finally do around midnight.  Nice trip, nice memories and I for one am left wanting to move to Marlborough Mass..lets see if its in the cards for me...