Desperate Housewives

I have to admit this out loud as a Diva Public Service Announcement or an endorsement of some kind at the very least.

Desperate Housewives is one of the greatest shows on television.

Now, I was all prepared to hate this program, you must realize. While the August promos were running, I had stepped upon my soapbox condemning this particular soap. I thought it preposterous and even a little insulting before the opening credits ever ran.

But after the first episode, I was hooked. It was entertaining, and silly even. I recognized so many of those characters from around my neighborhood, and so did my friends--maybe even a little in ourselves. We laughed amongst ourselves over the parody, the comedy and the dramatic tragedy of it all.

But then last week, I wept. Yes, actual tears rolled down my face at the scene where Lynnette breaks down and admits she is not the perfect mother. She and her friends share an honest moment admitting that none of us is perfect, that we are all only doing the best we can, and it can be overwhelming at times.

And I’m not even ashamed to admit that I was so touched my this network production.

I recommend a viewing immediately.

Sailing

I must have BADD. Blog Attention Deficit Disorder.

I can’t seem to get into a rhythm for this poor neglected blog. But then, I suppose that is representative of my life lately too. No rhythm.

With the holidays here, any hope of a schedule is a pipe dream now anyway, but I was hoping for a little less drifting in the final weeks of 2004. Not that I’m complaining, mind you. I really do love Christmas and all it brings. I’m that strange soul who actually loves to decorate, wrap, bake, entertain…The shopping I could do without, but a necessary evil I suppose. I want to be able to enjoy this month like I do every year, yet I just can’t seem to focus.

I just hope this distraction doesn’t end up to be a detraction.

Know what I mean?

Good Night, Moon

The weather finally broke here. It now means that we can finally turn off the air conditioner and open the windows like most normal Americans.

At night, this means the bedroom door is wide open, and we sleep to the lullabys of bullfrogs and the moonlight dancing through palm fronds.

I sleep and dream so soundly like this; when I wake in the morning I am reminded why they call it paradise.

The Awakening

By sleep-over standards, our first went well.

Eight boys were sensory over-loaded on unhealthy snacks and multimedia entertainment; and severely deprived of sleep and proper hygiene procedures. A beautiful balance for a newly-nine year old.

After pizza and cake, we loaded the monsters into 2 cars and made our way to the movie theater. After an obscene amount of money at the ticket counter and an even more obscene amount paid at the snack counter, we made our way inside and occupied an entire row for The Incredibles.

It was early still; retarded local ads for realtors and car dealerships attempted to enthrall the boys while we opened candy, mapped out the seating arrangements and cleaned up the first 5 spills. During the excruciating set-up, the family of 3 behind us gasped, “Are they all yours?”

If I was anywhere near my game, I would have pointed out to her that of the 9 children seated, I would have had to have produced septuplets, as they were all the same age. But I wasn’t, so I merely smiled and replied, “Tonight they are.”

We made it back home around 11, which I thought would be ideal, as they would probably not last that much longer, perhaps falling away during the movie marathon we had lined up.

Again, not on my game.

They made it to 4:42 a.m, they reported gleefully at 7:45. We know, we replied, our crusted over eyes revealing this truth.

So we pumped them up with more sugar in the gluttonous form of Dunkin’ Donuts and sent them on their way.

Yes, it was a success by sleep-over standards

The Most Romantic Thing Ever

I’m not the world’s most obvious romantic. I don’t really wear jewelry. I don’t get bent out of shape on Valentine’s Day or anniversaries. I don’t go ga-ga over Godiva or loopy over lingerie.

But on each of my children’s birthdays, I am the lucky recipient of the most amazing gesture from my partner in cynicism and life. I receive flowers with the card simply stated, “Thank you for our baby.”


It takes my breath away. Every time.

'D' is for...

Dumbfounded. Disillusioned. Dismayed. Disturbed. Disgusted.

Duh.

Dubya.

Election Day

We arrived at the precinct at about 10 this morning. It was a time I had deemed in my mind as not too early and not too late for the least amount of waiting time.

I was wrong.

But I don’t mind it all, and neither did the several dozen people waiting with me. 40 minutes in line on a beautiful Fall morning is a small price to pay for a day I’ve been waiting 4 years for. I’m not sure if Matty and Amy appreciated my same patriotic patience, but they held up just fine.
So now, we will celebrate Stevie’s 9th birthday while glued to the television set watching the returns.

(Even though mine is 6 months away, I bet you can guess what I’ll be wishing for on that candle.)

Happy Halloween

It will be a Happy Halloween if...


Another Halloween epic over. We made it through this ever-elongating holiday with only 17 cavities and one possible case of juvenile diabetes.

Trick-or-Treating went well; Matty made it about 10 houses ( and 0 houses with the Hulk mask) before declaring he was done. Amy and Stevie held out for the long haul, but it was too hot for the furry, adorable lady bug costume, so she was Minnie Mouse for the night. Stevie’s Marshall Faulk costume only ended up costing around $700, so I guess we made out OK.

I did out-do myself on the pumpkins, though. In addition to this little gem, I also carved a fabulous Lightning jack-o-lantern complete with a puck coming from it’s mouth. I’m thinking of changing careers.

But perhaps my crowning Halloween moment (pun intended) was my costume, created at the last possible moment before the party. I was Miss Florida 2004. I attached shingles, plywood and trash to my dress and stuck branches in my hurricane-blown hair. It was a little funny. Sean’s tourist costume was a hit, too, with the exception of the red face paint he used for the sunburned effect which has stained every piece of fabric in our home a flamingo pink….