Unprepared

Okay, when how did it suddenly become Dec 14 and I not notice it?

I should be:  decorating the house, putting up our tree, baking, shopping, wrapping, planning for Nolan's birthday...

AACK!  I feel the panicky fingers of Dec 24th reaching in to grab me.  I will not admit defeat yet. Hey, I managed to make some tamales by myself (well Mr W helped a little bit) on Sunday, I think I can handle baking some cookies.  Wrapping presents.  Shopping.  Hustle and bustle added on to the regular day to day activities. 

I think I can, I think I can, I think I can...and if I can't well, there's always the after-Christmas sales, right ;-) ?

 

Follow your nose

My Dad and I were attacking the Christmas list for all the grandkids yesterday, and surprise, surprise, I managed to get Mr W something too.

I had to make a run to get some girly stuff in Dillard's and randomly parked so I could just run in and out.  We walked in and boom!  I was right in the middle of the men's fragrance island, taking a big deep breath and fighting the urge to run my nose along the edge of the counter until I found my favorite.  It was a tiny bit embarassing to get so excited about the wonderful smells there in front of my Dad, but I got over it.

For me, there are few things on this earth that are as nice to be around as a guy that smells good.  My girlfriends and I have dubbed this "the Scalzi effect." 

Years ago, I used to work (with a couple of my close friends) in an Urgent Care.  We always had a few residents moonlighting in our clinic.  Some of them had that smarmy, "I'm a doctor, worship me" air about them, that slimy, overconfident-with-the-ladies way of impressing no one yet thinking they could bed anyone attitude that still draws shudders when we hear their names.  And some of them were so genuinely nice that we were sad when they finished their schooling and moved on from us.  And then there was Dr. Scalzi, who was not only friendly, and easy on the eyes, but nice.  He flirted with all of us, he regaled us with interesting stories from the ER to pass our slow times, dressed well, and smelled good.  Really, really good.  We always knew when he was around because usually, you could smell where he was (and it wasn't like he overdid the fragrance, it was just a lingering kind of thing, not offensive or overpowering at all.)  It's just one of those things we collectively remember about him when the conversation turns to our old job. 

Unfortunately for me, Mr. W is not a cologne wearing kind of guy.  He has some short circuit in his olfactory process that doesn't allow him to distinguish one cologne or perfume from the next, he just can tell if someone's wearing it.  So I stopped asking him to wear it, and when I wear it, it's for me (and the enjoyment or horror of those around me, haha.)  And that's ok, you know, whatever.  But sometimes, I can't help but be a little irritated that he can smell just fine at work:"I smelled the odor of an alcoholic substance" or "I smelled the odor of burnt marijuana" is what he writes in his reports, yet perfume is a problem?  OOO-Kay.

I know I've mentioned it before, but scent is one of those primal things, that pheremone curtsy that makes your stomach flip-flop when it hits you just right.  The thing that makes you want to burrow gently into the neck right where it meets the shoulder and graze over the collarbone lightly with your lips as you breathe it in...(excuse me for a minute, I need to collect myself.)

Who really, doesn't like it when someone smells good?  Good gracious, there wouldn't be half the toiletries in our bathrooms if we didn't all dig it, right?  

I should say, however, that this is limited to the tasteful displays of scent.  No over-the-top, in-your-face clouds, please.  It's not sexy to breathe it in and sneeze for the next two hours because someone overdid it.

When someone does it right, it should be acknowledged.  Tell them they smell good, it might make their day.  I love doing that, I just have to make sure I'm a safe distance away, LOL.  Wouldn't want to be, um, inappropriate, and grab at what I shouldn't! (OY!  Maybe Mr. W was right! *blush* I prefer to think of it not as 'oversexed' but 'healthy libido'.  The healthy libido of a 16-yr old boy, but healthy nonetheless.  My friends say it's my advancing age, that womanly-hitting-her-stride thing. Whatever.  I'll take it.) 

So I did make some stops and smell all the lovely samples along the counter.  And two sister fragrances really knocked my socks off.  They smelled nice, and had a little unexpected spicy kind of kick. (Spark and Spark-Seduction haha who comes up with these names?)  I decided that perhaps Mr. W might indulge me if I said 'please' so I got him some as a Christmas present, heehee, for both of us.  A gift that keeps on giving, should it work out (hopefully he'll like it too) and he plays his cards right.

Which isn't bad, considering the last time he gave me a gift that kept on giving, we named him Ryan.

A gift from Jay-Z??

I've received an early Christmas present, from an unlikely source. Actually, it probably will brighten up more faces than my own. Believe it or not, rapper Jay-Z had a comment today in the paper, on whether he prefers skinny model types or a woman with curves (it was from an article in this month's InStyle).  He is quoted as saying:

"I've dated both.  I've got to say, I like a woman with a body.  Don't starve yourself.  That's not cute."

Anyone smiling yet?  Or are there only knit brows out there?

Hey, keep in mind that this is the man that dates the bootylicious, lovely Beyonce.  And while ahem, I don't claim to have curves that even approach that level of bootyliciousness, it is so nice to see, in print, in a mainstream magazine, a comment like that.  A small victory for all the women out there that are closer to the fuller end of the spectrum as opposed to the skinny end of the stick.  Perhaps some girl out there struggling with her self image would see something like that and think, hey, maybe having (what's the phrase?) a little extra 'junk in the trunk' is not so bad. 

Of course, who knows who might be on the cover of this month's InStyle (I haven't seen it).  It could be the pretty Renee Zellweger, who's gained and lost for the Bridget Jones movies (she's said "I have no problem shedding weight.  My problem is gaining it.").  Or whatever skeletal It girl is the current favorite.  At any rate, I'll take that comment, Jay-Z, and keep it in a safe place. 

I'll resist printing up posters and planting them all over women's restrooms across the city.

My other early gift came from another celeb.  Hey, it's Friday, I admit the guilty pleasure of reading the YES section of the Az Republic, which is sometimes, my girly girl fix for the week on the cheap...  Salma Hayek, bless her beautiful little Mexican self, had this quote:

"I think the smartest women are the most intimidating to men."

I let loose a whoop that had the kids looking at me funny when I read that one.  I only got a minor eyeroll from Mr W when I read that out loud to him and began to rant.  I told him that I really think that that statement is true, to a certain extent.  I think that had it not been for Mr W, I probably would never have had a date in high school, because I wasn't exactly someone any of the boys my age wanted to take on.  They'd heard my big mouth for years, and I am sure that they were not about to deal with that.  Honestly, only one person, not my guy, ever really told me that he thought my bookishness was a sexy bonus, and well, I had my guy, so I wasn't interested.  ONE.  Only one!  The others satisfied themselves making comments to piss me off and get me to rave on, or asking me to set them up with my friends.  I had a giggly exchange with Mr W about this, too, b/c I said to him, after I told him I wouldn't have had a date, that my nerdiness didn't matter to him, b/c it just didn't; as he wasn't interested in my mind at the time.  He denied this at first, but when pressed said he'd give none of his secrets up to me.  (And since he's older than I am, he did not have the benefit of listening to my opinionated preteen self like the boys my age...)  The conversation took a turn for the worse when somehow, it came to him saying that although he may not have had my mind foremost on his list at the time, that I have since surpassed him on this front, and basically, he was telling me that I am the one who doesn't have his mind foremost on my list.  Yup, he stood there, looking awfully cute in that uniform, and told me that I was, um, oversexed.  Really.  I swear. And the problem would be ?????

(Just gotta love that uniform thing, the best part of my day is when he's getting ready for work, and I admit, I do have a weakness for it.  I smile to myself everytime I see even a random officer, it's been well documented, he knows, my friends know, I know I am not alone on this one, so there.  I'll tell you all about it some other time...) 

But back to the thought, I think that it's true, some men are intimidated by smart women.  However, now that I'm older, I realize that the guys that are intimidated by smart women are(were) not necessarily the best choices anyway.  They should like you because they like you, the whole package, not just the frills.  So it's probably ok that the dreamy guy in the locker next to yours that didn't want to talk to you because you could spell 'cajones' didn't. 

Besides, I hear he married the captain of the cheerleading squad and they are living happily in a trailer park in Laveen with the child they conceived on Prom night.  (see?  big mouth, I couldn't resist..)

Now, smart MEN on the other hand...hmmm.  I will take this time to smile politely, keep my mouth shut, and stay out of trouble. 

 But they may bring it on, anytime.  Rrrrrrrrrr.

Road rage

Mood: annoyed and irritated

I love the smell of asphalt in the afternoon...NOT.

Afterschool today, I had to run out to the store for a quick errand.  It was one of my quickest trips ever, considering little miss was on the verge of a tantrum even the wee car cart couldn't appease. 

I was feeling pretty smug about getting in and out so quickly when I was brought crashing back down to earth by road work.  My route home was blocked.  Ordinarily, I take these things in stride, as long as no one's crying and the CD player still works.  But my patience is worn thin by all the road work on the streets surrounding our neighborhood. 

Everywhere you look, there are signs and detours, and more signs telling you where you can't go, usually exactly in the spot you want to get to.  Today, it seemed to take me longer to get home than I took inside the store.  UGH.  It is particularly annoying because I'm usually running a few minutes late as it is. 

Don't get me wrong, I realize you have to make allowances for time.  But you try getting four kids, all on the same page, all out the door on time.  All the time.  Forever.  "Get your shoes on...brush your teeth...do you have your backpack?...oops forgot the keys....get in the car...didn't I just tell you to put on your shoes?..."  It's endless, and inevitably even my best plans are laid to waste because someone forgets something.  Something vital, or not, but something gets left behind.  Lunches.  Clarinets.  Gi belts.  Jackets.  Library books (now overdue).  

Getting everything in the car and everyone situated, particularly if we are going for a while, probably takes more time and planning than the attack on Normandy (and I mean no disrespect in saying that). 

So a little glitch, like extra road work, really makes my day.  I try not to swear at the winter visitors, who drive like crap as it is, and now are faced with the challenge of a new route (you know how the oldies like to change their routine).  I try not to break too many traffic laws, because my oldest takes a particular delight in sharing my traffic transgressions with his policeman Daddy.  "Today, Mommy ran a red light.  And she said not to say anything."  "Didn't you say you're not supposed to drive through the parking lot to get around that roadblock on the corner?  See, Mom I told you that's what Dad said."  Or he'll just make siren sounds when he knows I've done something wrong.  Little sh**.  Doesn't he realize that I'M the person he'll need to get through if he'd like to drive before he graduates high school?  That MY vehicle is probably the one he'll want to borrow some day?  We'll see about that.

It doesn't matter, in the grand scheme of things, I guess, to even get so worked up about this at all.  Because once we're all buckled in, and the garage door is closed, the next thing I'm certain to hear is:

"Mommy, I need to use the bathroom."

 

My competition

Today is a cold, rainy, overcast day.  Perfect weather for snuggling up next to that special someone and well, losing track of time. 

I'm out running a quick errand, and the little one knocks out.  So I hurry home, thinking if I time it right, I can snuggle up to Mr W and have some quality time.  Or so I thought.

He greeted me at the door--good sign, I'm thinking, until I notice that look in his eye.  Was it desire?  Oh, hell no, it was 'I'm sleepy'.  That's okay, I think, I certainly can handle that little hitch.  Carefully, carefully, I place the little one down so she doesn't wake up...and follow Mr W down the hall, intent on my mission.

So I snuggle up next to him.  What's better than the feeling of a warm body next to you on a day like this?  Well, apparently, sleep.  Sleeeep! Nevermind that everyone's at school, and the little one is down for the count.  Or that I have made my intentions clear.  No, no, he needs to sleep. I stuck around for a while, thinking he'd see things my way, but no.  Pretty soon, he's breathing like he's on his way...out.  And there I am, all dressed up and no where to go.  I'm about to take a more aggressive stance when...you guessed it, I hear a voice calling for me from the living room.  Game, nap, match over.

She's a sneaky mistress, Sleep.  I realize that she's important to him, so I let her come around as much as possible.  But today, she was truly more tempting than I was.  And while I am a patient girl, I am not pleased about that at all.  Usually we work hand in hand, I get my time, and she takes over right away.  That is the way it should be.  I can only hope that I am sneaking into whatever dream he may be having.  Ha, ha I'll move in on her turf.

He better not think about coming around later because I'll ....cave.  I always cave...fold like a bad hand...give up the good fight....surrender the goods.

 

Yawn.  I'm getting a little...sleepy.  ;)