Rambling Sunday nonsense

I should probably make a personal rule not to blog while under the influence, but then I would probably never blog...Besides, it would go against my one woman campaign to bring drinking housewives back in vogue. (If Sean leaves a McPudding legacy, then this can be mine.)

That said, what a weekend, my dear, obscure friends. I am approaching that 6 week mark when the the world is supposed to suddenly right itself again, and I just spent 2 days testing the theory.

I had some big plans to complete about 30 home projects in various states of completion. That albatross of a back bathroom needed to be sanded, painted and reassembled; and our yard looks like that pollution scene from the old PSA commercial from the 70's where the Indian on the horse begins to weep. Tonto is parked at my mailbox.

Anyway, in between all of this, there is the usual feeding, changing, bathing, entertaining and caring for the kids, which takes up more time than I ever allot. But last night I broke away for a girl's night out. We went out to dinner to a restaurant at the beach, and if you think that 14 Catholic school Moms talked about anything wholesome and decent, well, you must have been drinking as much as we were. A sample of the evening's topics:

1) How I found out my best childhood friend was a lesbian.

2) Who are swingers in the neighborhood--categories for old swingers and young ones.

3) Who needs therapy for ironing their pillowcases. (And you do, btw.)

4) Where are the most exotic places you've lost your children?

5) Why phen-phen should have never been removed from the market.

The rest is just too explicit to reveal in this blog.


Sunday rolled around, and we started off so productively...Sean sanded that bathroom so that it was as smooth as Jessie's bottom and cleaned the Lanai as I worked on the front yard. I even went to the gym for the first time in a year and reacquainted myself with the treadmill. It missed me.

I stopped at the grocery store on the way home to pick up dinner fixings and a bottle of wine, and the cashier said this:

Cashier: Can I see some I.D. for the wine, please?

Me: What language are you speaking?

Cashier: English. May I see some I.D. please?

Me: Of course!!! Let me find it...(Searching madly through my purse, hoping she won't change her mind for about 20 minutes under Target receipts, bubblegum wrappers, hair ties and lipstick tubes.)

I thrust that license at her so proudly, and then almost kissed her on the mouth. But instead, I ran home and we drank that bottle of wine in the hot tub for the next 6.5 hours and I actually got a sunburn in a non-maternity bathing suit where the remainder of the incision glue must have come off by now, and I swear that I almost felt human again, singular in body, mind and liver; a perfect way to celebrate my 6 week milestone.