Who knew free-lance journalism could be dangerous? All I was doing was touring a new bedroom addtion for a story on home renovations when I stepped on a long sheetrock nail that went all the way through my thick wedge heels and punctured the ball of my foot. Are you cringing?
Don't worry that's normal because the woman who owns the house is a nurse and she looked ill with the idea of a nail all up in my foot. When I keeled over into a newly mudded wall holding my foot all I could manage to mutter was "Nail! In! My! Foot!" She kind of just stood there for a couple of seconds trying to process what I said while I was trying to figure out how to pry my shoe from my foot without a claw hammer. I had sheetrock mud all over one hand and I was still clutching my pen and paper in the other.
Finally, I handed her the paper and prepared to feel the nail slide its way out of my delicate foot that was desperately in need of a pedicure! It didn't make me feel too comforted that she was pretty grossed out by the situation.
But she took care of me by making several phone calls to various doctors around town because my doctor's nurse suggested I go to the emergency room for a tetanus shot. That was the most painful part of the day. The thought of sitting for hours in an e.r. and then getting a crazy bill for it was more than I could bear. I was prepared to suffer Lock Jaw if I had to go. Fortunately, my doctor got back to the office and I quickly got a shot and went back to work.
I'm clearly awesome and a dedicated pro and now I must put my foot up and hope dinner makes itself because the pain is setting in and I most definitely cannot do housework for at least a year!
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
Lil' Cavvy Cav gettin' jiggy wit it
Lucy and Cavitt's favorite restaurant is La Pinata, not because the food is muy bueno but because they have cheap toy machines that are as addictive as crack. My babies are completely hooked on draining Super Steve and me of every quarter in our posession because, Look, you can get a pinky nail sized plastic puppy dog or a sticky hand or a high-bouncing ball or best of all - fabulous jewelry!
Super Steve and I enable their addiction because (1) it keeps them busy in the foyer of the restaurant where there is a very slight chance they will be kidnapped to Tiajuana and (2) it gives us a little more time to drink our margaritas in peace. If they never outgrow their obsession and have to go to a special Mexican-Restaurant Cheap-Toy-Machine Rehab then we, as parents, must attend Cheap-Toy-Machine-Anon meetings. I'm hoping it's just a phase and not a gateway to more expensive pursuits like the mechanical crane that fishes for plush toys. I don't think I could handle that!
The last time we went to La Pinata, Cavitt got a gold necklace with a dollar sign pendant. He was so overjoyed with his luck that he declared he couldn't wait to get some black pants, black shirt and black shoes to wear with his new jewelry because that outfit would make him super cool. When did my son become a rapper?
Super Steve and I enable their addiction because (1) it keeps them busy in the foyer of the restaurant where there is a very slight chance they will be kidnapped to Tiajuana and (2) it gives us a little more time to drink our margaritas in peace. If they never outgrow their obsession and have to go to a special Mexican-Restaurant Cheap-Toy-Machine Rehab then we, as parents, must attend Cheap-Toy-Machine-Anon meetings. I'm hoping it's just a phase and not a gateway to more expensive pursuits like the mechanical crane that fishes for plush toys. I don't think I could handle that!
The last time we went to La Pinata, Cavitt got a gold necklace with a dollar sign pendant. He was so overjoyed with his luck that he declared he couldn't wait to get some black pants, black shirt and black shoes to wear with his new jewelry because that outfit would make him super cool. When did my son become a rapper?
Thursday, March 22, 2007
The Secret of my Success
I work at a great independent bookstore called Turnrow Book Company. It's something I thoroughly enjoy because I am exposed to so many books and we get advanced copies that the owner let's me take home to read. It's an easy little part-time job that I can forget about once I step over the threshold and I like that. I'm making a little pocket money and no stress is involved.
I also got to interview Grisham when he came in November and that was a thrill even though I'm not a big fan of his work. I was a Kappa Kappa Gamma at Ole Miss with his youngest sister. Of course, back then I didn't know her brother would be "John Grisham, world-wide best selling author" In fact, I didn't think she could possibly have any relative that could be very literary. She was, to put it delicately, a little rough around the edges.That's why when she told me her brother just wrote a book, I kind of shrugged and wondered if her brother was doing a how-to book about shotgunning beer or killing something.
She took me to her room to see a review a local paper did of "A Time to Kill." I didn't think too much about it until much later when "The Firm" became a best-seller and I recalled how I didn't make a big enough fuss about her brother back in 1988. Too bad I wasn't clairvoyant enough to buddy up with her and become her BFF so I could go to the movie premier. Oh, the regret!!!
Last night, the bookstore hosted three authors while debuting a new second story porch that patrons can lounge on with a cold beer in hand while browsing a book. Kevin Sessums, Vanity Fair and Allure magazine editor and now, #35 on the New York Times Best Seller list, read from his new book Mississippi Sissy. Sonny Brooks,an Alabama author, read from his unfinished manuscript. Davids Adams Richards, author of Friends of Meager Fortune, read from his book and Steve Yarbrough, End of California, introduced everybody. It was so great to hear people read from their own books. These people are at the top of their game and I was in awe and a little jealous because that's what I want be. I want to have a book with a real cover with my name on it to read from. This is my way of practicing "The Secret" I am putting it out to the universe and now I will attempt to do the work to make that happen. Thank goodness I didn't have to actually buy that crazy book to learn that bit of wisdom. I do something I call my daily "Secret" I Ching.
I grab the book off the shelf and randomly open it to see what the universe wants me to know on that particular day. Yesterday I found out that if I want money I have to visualize it and speak about money as if I have a lot of it. I had to say things like, "Money is no object for a big spender like myself." "My pockets are jammed full of mad money." I gleaned from those wise pages that I should just order the new Gucci bag I've been admiring on the internet because acting like you have money attacts the money molecules. That purchase shows the universe I believe I am rich and we all know rich people attract money. That's why they're rich. So by believing I am rich, speaking like I'm a millionaire and carrying the accessories of the rich will make me...a broke idiot. That's the real secret.
I also got to interview Grisham when he came in November and that was a thrill even though I'm not a big fan of his work. I was a Kappa Kappa Gamma at Ole Miss with his youngest sister. Of course, back then I didn't know her brother would be "John Grisham, world-wide best selling author" In fact, I didn't think she could possibly have any relative that could be very literary. She was, to put it delicately, a little rough around the edges.That's why when she told me her brother just wrote a book, I kind of shrugged and wondered if her brother was doing a how-to book about shotgunning beer or killing something.
She took me to her room to see a review a local paper did of "A Time to Kill." I didn't think too much about it until much later when "The Firm" became a best-seller and I recalled how I didn't make a big enough fuss about her brother back in 1988. Too bad I wasn't clairvoyant enough to buddy up with her and become her BFF so I could go to the movie premier. Oh, the regret!!!
Last night, the bookstore hosted three authors while debuting a new second story porch that patrons can lounge on with a cold beer in hand while browsing a book. Kevin Sessums, Vanity Fair and Allure magazine editor and now, #35 on the New York Times Best Seller list, read from his new book Mississippi Sissy. Sonny Brooks,an Alabama author, read from his unfinished manuscript. Davids Adams Richards, author of Friends of Meager Fortune, read from his book and Steve Yarbrough, End of California, introduced everybody. It was so great to hear people read from their own books. These people are at the top of their game and I was in awe and a little jealous because that's what I want be. I want to have a book with a real cover with my name on it to read from. This is my way of practicing "The Secret" I am putting it out to the universe and now I will attempt to do the work to make that happen. Thank goodness I didn't have to actually buy that crazy book to learn that bit of wisdom. I do something I call my daily "Secret" I Ching.
I grab the book off the shelf and randomly open it to see what the universe wants me to know on that particular day. Yesterday I found out that if I want money I have to visualize it and speak about money as if I have a lot of it. I had to say things like, "Money is no object for a big spender like myself." "My pockets are jammed full of mad money." I gleaned from those wise pages that I should just order the new Gucci bag I've been admiring on the internet because acting like you have money attacts the money molecules. That purchase shows the universe I believe I am rich and we all know rich people attract money. That's why they're rich. So by believing I am rich, speaking like I'm a millionaire and carrying the accessories of the rich will make me...a broke idiot. That's the real secret.
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
I give and I give and I give
Hi! I'm tired but it's been a whole month since I posted so sensing that my audience (yes, all two of you. Hi, mom!) was withering away without benefit of my profound insight, I am forgoing The Search for the Next Pussycat Doll, and instead I am putting a little somethin' somethin' down for your enjoyment.
See, I'm a giver!
My lack of posting wasn't an intentional snub. I've been so busy and mentally very,very lazy! Everytime I wanted to post, I would crawfish. I didn't feel confident to thread together a coherant sentance much less a paragraph.
I have wanted to post about everything from civil rights to Britney in rehab; from depression to an event that forever re-shaped how I perceive life and death. I never felt I could do any topic justice, especially the seriousness of Brit's predicament. You don't just gloss over Miss Spears' spiral into madness. You've got to have your facts straight and your theories about her bizarre behavior well thought out. I simply couldn't get myself together to do it.
Why? Life, baby, Life - that's been the problem . Real life and all its boringness has sucked my will to write right out my heart, hands and mind. I've been busy cleaning this little house of mine so I can sell it and get one where I will live in for the next 10 - 50 years.
Cleaning may not sound like much of a hassle but the Cookstons and their lively little dog live like happy little piggies in a sty. No serious buyer would want our house if they happened to pop in on us with less than 24 hours notice.
The amount of trash and clutter that accumulates in our home in one day is staggering. I can mop and vacuum but a few hours later, one would never know we owned either household tool. The laundry, the sheets, the KITCHEN, Oh my Lord, does it ever end????
To top it all off, I despise household duties and I get ZERO satisfaction from doing my chores. It would be different if I could bask in the beauty of my clean and orderly house but NOOOOO, as soon as Frick and Frack get home from school everything I worked so hard to get done gets undone.
Where's the glory? Where's the beauty? I'll tell you where it is...it's under Capri Sun wrappers and Doritos bags. It's under the rocks that Cavitt pours out of his tennis shoes onto my freshly mopped floor. It's under the filthy clothes that get tossed carelessly wherever they get peeled off. The glory is outshined by the sparkly watermelon flavored toothpaste caked to my kid's sink and counter. The beauty is marred by the pee and poop on my rugs. I can't take it!!! Please buyer(you know who you are)Hurry! and purchase my house so I can stop the insanity of trying to be a compulsive cleaner.
Now that you know the reason for my vacation I promise to update at least 4 times a week no matter what! That's quite ambitious, you may think. But you know, I'm a giver!
See, I'm a giver!
My lack of posting wasn't an intentional snub. I've been so busy and mentally very,very lazy! Everytime I wanted to post, I would crawfish. I didn't feel confident to thread together a coherant sentance much less a paragraph.
I have wanted to post about everything from civil rights to Britney in rehab; from depression to an event that forever re-shaped how I perceive life and death. I never felt I could do any topic justice, especially the seriousness of Brit's predicament. You don't just gloss over Miss Spears' spiral into madness. You've got to have your facts straight and your theories about her bizarre behavior well thought out. I simply couldn't get myself together to do it.
Why? Life, baby, Life - that's been the problem . Real life and all its boringness has sucked my will to write right out my heart, hands and mind. I've been busy cleaning this little house of mine so I can sell it and get one where I will live in for the next 10 - 50 years.
Cleaning may not sound like much of a hassle but the Cookstons and their lively little dog live like happy little piggies in a sty. No serious buyer would want our house if they happened to pop in on us with less than 24 hours notice.
The amount of trash and clutter that accumulates in our home in one day is staggering. I can mop and vacuum but a few hours later, one would never know we owned either household tool. The laundry, the sheets, the KITCHEN, Oh my Lord, does it ever end????
To top it all off, I despise household duties and I get ZERO satisfaction from doing my chores. It would be different if I could bask in the beauty of my clean and orderly house but NOOOOO, as soon as Frick and Frack get home from school everything I worked so hard to get done gets undone.
Where's the glory? Where's the beauty? I'll tell you where it is...it's under Capri Sun wrappers and Doritos bags. It's under the rocks that Cavitt pours out of his tennis shoes onto my freshly mopped floor. It's under the filthy clothes that get tossed carelessly wherever they get peeled off. The glory is outshined by the sparkly watermelon flavored toothpaste caked to my kid's sink and counter. The beauty is marred by the pee and poop on my rugs. I can't take it!!! Please buyer(you know who you are)Hurry! and purchase my house so I can stop the insanity of trying to be a compulsive cleaner.
Now that you know the reason for my vacation I promise to update at least 4 times a week no matter what! That's quite ambitious, you may think. But you know, I'm a giver!
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
And what have you been doing?
Got a dog yesterday named Biscuit. It's technically Cavitt's puppy that we picked up from the pound but he and Lucy have tag teamed this poor rescued mutt with so much love, hugs and constant attention that Biscuit probably wishes he wasn't such a lucky dog. The shelter probably sounds like a spa to little Biscuit about now.
Somebody stop Britney Spears from total ruination!!!! Somebody stop me from caring!!! Poor kids. I've been in desperate straits before but I didn't freak the freak out like Miss Spears is intent on doing in front of the whole damn world. Why in the world did she have babies just one year of each other and marry such a weasle-looking loser? Why won't she just get some help?She needs some one on one with Dr. Phil and Oprah - maybe they could straighten her out.
Watching her meltdown is like watching O.J. drive slowly down the highway with about 10 police cars behind him. I just can't look away even though I know I should just to preserve my own dignity.
Somebody stop Britney Spears from total ruination!!!! Somebody stop me from caring!!! Poor kids. I've been in desperate straits before but I didn't freak the freak out like Miss Spears is intent on doing in front of the whole damn world. Why in the world did she have babies just one year of each other and marry such a weasle-looking loser? Why won't she just get some help?She needs some one on one with Dr. Phil and Oprah - maybe they could straighten her out.
Watching her meltdown is like watching O.J. drive slowly down the highway with about 10 police cars behind him. I just can't look away even though I know I should just to preserve my own dignity.
Thursday, February 15, 2007
Anna Nicole and Xanax
Goodness, it's Thursday night and I have so much to share...where do I start?
I flew to Phoenix last Friday and boy, are my arms tired, plus, my nerves are shot!!!! I hate to fly but the trip was so, so fun. Did you know that fat people aren't allowed in the Phoenix/Scottsdale area? They let me in on a special visa. I felt very special and very large!
On the way to Jackson to get to the airport, I was feeling quite anxious, so I remembered I had a friend who had Xanax. I called her and she said, "Sure I'd love to be your drug pusher come right over. "
When I got there, her husband said she was in the shower but it was all right to go on back. Not anxious to see my friend all nekkid, I hesitated but she assured me her nekkidness was all hidden behind the shower curtain. I'm real shy about seeing other people's bits and parts.
My friend, okay her name is Ann - Ann Fann - it really is! Shut up about how funny that is. What's even funnier is her full name, including maiden name, is Ann Little Fann. Doesn't she sound like an Indian Princess? Well, while Ann's all lathering up in the shower, she yells to me, "Just look in the bottle on the vanity. Do you see the pill all marked with bars?"
I think to myself, Yes, I think I do and dump the contents out.
"Break off one bar of the pill. You'll relax," said Ann.
So, I pick one part of the pill out of the jar that has already been broken off - I think. It looks like what I'm supposed to be looking for. I popped it off in my mouthreally fast because I was really anxious.
Then Ann yells through the fog, "Wait until you start to board the plane before you take that or you will be OUT!"
Oops, too late for me!
So I said "Thanks" and left. I got in the car with Super Steve and left for the airport. I waited for the calming effects to take place. About 30 minutes down the road, I started to get a little nervous... Did I even take the right pill? Was I going to pass out and then what? Was I Alice in Wonderland waiting to get bigger or smaller.
I confessed to Super Steve that I went to Ann's house for Xanax and warned him to watch me. I waited and waited but the only crazy side effect of my acid trip was that I thought I heard constant Anna Nicole updates on CNN. Surely that was just the drug because for a prestigious news channel to only be concerned about Anna Nicole Smith's five possible baby daddys and untimely death would mean I was trippin' hard core - right? Other than that -no other side effects. No tiredness. No sluggishness. Just a constant drone of Anna Nicole Smith coverage.
I would rather have passed out but through the placebo effect of Zanex I arrived in Phoenix unharmed and without a hangover! I just had the strangest dream of the Bahamas.
I flew to Phoenix last Friday and boy, are my arms tired, plus, my nerves are shot!!!! I hate to fly but the trip was so, so fun. Did you know that fat people aren't allowed in the Phoenix/Scottsdale area? They let me in on a special visa. I felt very special and very large!
On the way to Jackson to get to the airport, I was feeling quite anxious, so I remembered I had a friend who had Xanax. I called her and she said, "Sure I'd love to be your drug pusher come right over. "
When I got there, her husband said she was in the shower but it was all right to go on back. Not anxious to see my friend all nekkid, I hesitated but she assured me her nekkidness was all hidden behind the shower curtain. I'm real shy about seeing other people's bits and parts.
My friend, okay her name is Ann - Ann Fann - it really is! Shut up about how funny that is. What's even funnier is her full name, including maiden name, is Ann Little Fann. Doesn't she sound like an Indian Princess? Well, while Ann's all lathering up in the shower, she yells to me, "Just look in the bottle on the vanity. Do you see the pill all marked with bars?"
I think to myself, Yes, I think I do and dump the contents out.
"Break off one bar of the pill. You'll relax," said Ann.
So, I pick one part of the pill out of the jar that has already been broken off - I think. It looks like what I'm supposed to be looking for. I popped it off in my mouthreally fast because I was really anxious.
Then Ann yells through the fog, "Wait until you start to board the plane before you take that or you will be OUT!"
Oops, too late for me!
So I said "Thanks" and left. I got in the car with Super Steve and left for the airport. I waited for the calming effects to take place. About 30 minutes down the road, I started to get a little nervous... Did I even take the right pill? Was I going to pass out and then what? Was I Alice in Wonderland waiting to get bigger or smaller.
I confessed to Super Steve that I went to Ann's house for Xanax and warned him to watch me. I waited and waited but the only crazy side effect of my acid trip was that I thought I heard constant Anna Nicole updates on CNN. Surely that was just the drug because for a prestigious news channel to only be concerned about Anna Nicole Smith's five possible baby daddys and untimely death would mean I was trippin' hard core - right? Other than that -no other side effects. No tiredness. No sluggishness. Just a constant drone of Anna Nicole Smith coverage.
I would rather have passed out but through the placebo effect of Zanex I arrived in Phoenix unharmed and without a hangover! I just had the strangest dream of the Bahamas.
Thursday, February 8, 2007
Cavitt Said
My son, Cavitt, is days away from turning 5. If you know this child or if you don't, he is the personification of CHEERFUL. He wakes up in the morning declaring, THIS IS THE BEST DAY EVER!!! He once told me I was the starriest star of the most beautifullest mommies. That was the same day I said, "What is it that you want? I'll get it for you," as I melted into a puddle on the floor from sweetness overload.
No, he's not always happy, happy, happy. He whines, stomps his feet, yells LOUDLY, he's kind of a slacker for a 4 year old but even with all that, his usual operating mode is quite simply - HAPPY. He's also very naturally very funny! He's like my little wind up toy that I just sit back and watch. I am endlessly entertained by him which is so ironic since I really disliked him for the first 4 months of his life. I had post-partum depression and that is a post for later. I promise to talk about it but first I want to relay three exchanges I've had with Cavitt recently that have tickled me!
#1
(Scene: Lucy, Cavitt and me drive by Little Red School House Park.)
Lucy: Mollie said there used to be a school there but it burned
Me: Yeah, It was there when I was little.
Cavitt: What kind of school was it?
Me: It was a school for, uh, mentally challenged; retarded children
Cavitt: But it burned??
Me: Yes.
Cavitt: Did you go to school there, mama?
#2
Me: Go with Daddy to Dollar Tree because I need to rest
Cavitt: You don't feel good, do you, mama?
Me: No, I feel kind of sick.
Cavitt: Do you have chicken pops?
Me: No, why do you ask if I have chicken pox?
Cavitt: Because of all those red dots on your face.
#3
Cavitt: Mama, Can you sing Oprah?
Me: What?
Cavitt: Can you sing Oprah?
Me: What's that?
Cavitt: You know, (does his best warbley falsetto voice) Oprah, like grown -ups sing!!!!
No, he's not always happy, happy, happy. He whines, stomps his feet, yells LOUDLY, he's kind of a slacker for a 4 year old but even with all that, his usual operating mode is quite simply - HAPPY. He's also very naturally very funny! He's like my little wind up toy that I just sit back and watch. I am endlessly entertained by him which is so ironic since I really disliked him for the first 4 months of his life. I had post-partum depression and that is a post for later. I promise to talk about it but first I want to relay three exchanges I've had with Cavitt recently that have tickled me!
#1
(Scene: Lucy, Cavitt and me drive by Little Red School House Park.)
Lucy: Mollie said there used to be a school there but it burned
Me: Yeah, It was there when I was little.
Cavitt: What kind of school was it?
Me: It was a school for, uh, mentally challenged; retarded children
Cavitt: But it burned??
Me: Yes.
Cavitt: Did you go to school there, mama?
#2
Me: Go with Daddy to Dollar Tree because I need to rest
Cavitt: You don't feel good, do you, mama?
Me: No, I feel kind of sick.
Cavitt: Do you have chicken pops?
Me: No, why do you ask if I have chicken pox?
Cavitt: Because of all those red dots on your face.
#3
Cavitt: Mama, Can you sing Oprah?
Me: What?
Cavitt: Can you sing Oprah?
Me: What's that?
Cavitt: You know, (does his best warbley falsetto voice) Oprah, like grown -ups sing!!!!
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