* Here's one from 2007...*
On one channel recently, Oprah was introducing her new online program, better described as a journey, called “O Girl O Beautiful”. Its goal is to teach us to recognize our own value, bask in our one-of-a kind fantastic selves and essentially be happy with our being – inside and out. Acceptance. Self-Love. True Beauty. Very ‘You Go Girl’ stuff because after all, gosh darn it, we are awesome just the way we are!
Unless you are like me and that glorious, self empowering moment is cut short by a simple accidental flick of the channel down button on the remote. The View (sans Rosie), was showcasing the 2007 summer line-up of stylish new bathing suits and offering advice on which one to buy so you can, you guessed it, hide all your flaws. Big hips. No hips. Flabby arms. Wide thighs. Short legs. Junk in your trunk. Cripes. ‘O Girl O Bountiful’. One channel giveth, the other channel taketh away.
The models on the show cavorted around smiling and cheery as they showed off their jazzy beach attire. And without a doubt, one bathing suit captured the audiences’ hearts. This was clearly evident by the gasps of delight and awe-struck expressions when it hit the stage: The Miracle Suit.
Wouldn’t you love to meet the guy that named it the Miracle Suit? What’s the miracle? Is it a miracle there is a suit out there that will fit me? Is it an act of God that this suit manages to make me look good while being so close to naked? Are people going to point at me astonished and breathlessly exclaim, “Ali. You don’t even look like yourself in that suit! It’s a miracle!”
Imagine the disappointment for the viewing public when I load myself back into my jeans and long shirt and I return to my human form? I imagine the whispers, “Hmmm. Well, that miracle was fleeting”. The next thing you know, my Miracle Suit is forgotten and people are talking up the parting of the Red Sea thing or perhaps some interest is renewed in the 7 Wonders of the World. It doesn’t take much to get people talking about those blasted Pyramids.
No. I can’t have it. If man created the Miracle Suit, who am I to question its existence? I’ll wear the Suit shopping, pumping gas, when going to work, attending parent/teacher meetings – and I’ll wear it with high heels – the swim suit models all wear heels, carry sporty beach bags, put on floppy hats and hide behind designer shades. I mean, it’s a Miracle after all. And a miracle deserves some accessorizing.
Friday, June 19, 2009
Saturday, June 6, 2009
Anything but that!
When my mother-in-law appeared in my doorway, I dropped my head to avoid making eye contact.
I knew why she had popped over. She and my father-in-law were going to Portugal for a big whoop-it-up holiday.
“I have a favor to ask of you” she said.
Please let it be that she needs a kidney upon her return.
Or that she feels I’m genetically inferior to be her son’s life partner and wants me to pack my bags and leave quietly in the night.
Maybe she wants custody of the kids. She’s great at making pancakes shaped like the first letter of their names and she would be a whiz with the math homework.
“Do you mind, while we’re away…”
I backed away from the doorway. Buy you lottery tickets? Pick up your mail? Record Dancing with the Stars? Scrub your kitchen floor with a toothbrush?
“… look after my plants?”
No. No. No. Anything but that! I can’t do it. Come on, take the kids and raise them as your own. With God as my witness, I AM NOT CAPABLE OF LOOKING AFTER YOUR AWARD WINNING BOTANICAL GARDENS!
She set a date for a week later when I was to come over to walk through her foliage beautification routine. I could only hope my appendix would burst and I would be laid up in the hospital. No such luck.
We started indoors.
“This lovely likes to be watered from the bottom, never the top. With this one, you fill the water bottle and turn it upside down in the soil. I’ve started these flats from seeds. Be sure to tip the tray gently so the water trickles east to west. “ Omigosh, I’m in trouble.
“This seems a bit dry.” I offered as I felt the soil in a flower pot on the counter. “Should we water it now?” I asked.
She plunged a knowing finger into the soil and immediately crunched her eyebrows together in a concerned look.
“Oh, no, its fine. You wouldn’t want to over water it”.
OKAY. I DON’T KNOW WHAT I’M DOING. MY FLOWERS ARE PLASTIC! I’M THE WRONG PERSON FOR THIS JOB!
We headed outdoors to her newly purchased crowd of trees that she won’t have time to plant before she leaves. My job was to keep them alive in pots.
“Is there some warranty on these? Can I sign a waiver stating I’m not responsible if they band together and go on a hunger strike?”
She’s not amused.
“Watch the Weather Network. If there is a frost, you’ll have to burlap bag the shrubs out front. And if the weather gets nice and there’s no rain, you’ll have to move the hose around. We don’t have the automatic sprinkler system on yet.”
Oh, sure, have it on when you’re home.
You know how sunflowers always look towards the sun? Well, the second my in-laws left, her flowers looked towards the yellow pages for Competent Plant Sitters.
But guess what? Lucky, lucky me! My mother in law’s long time pal and gardener extraordinaire, Dandy Sandy, was relocating to our area and her new house wasn’t ready yet. She had to take up residence at the family homestead. “That’s too bad” is what I said -- yahoo is what I felt.
Dandy Sandy did it all. If there was a botanical homicide, it happened on her watch. I am innocent. Innocent, you hear!
And don’t think I’m an irresponsible big schlep. I picked up their mail while they were away and they get a lot of mail. Sure, I spilled coffee on some of it but it’s all still legible.
Their beloved son could have ended up with a green thumbed girl but would she have been so willing to hand over a kidney? I doubt it.
I knew why she had popped over. She and my father-in-law were going to Portugal for a big whoop-it-up holiday.
“I have a favor to ask of you” she said.
Please let it be that she needs a kidney upon her return.
Or that she feels I’m genetically inferior to be her son’s life partner and wants me to pack my bags and leave quietly in the night.
Maybe she wants custody of the kids. She’s great at making pancakes shaped like the first letter of their names and she would be a whiz with the math homework.
“Do you mind, while we’re away…”
I backed away from the doorway. Buy you lottery tickets? Pick up your mail? Record Dancing with the Stars? Scrub your kitchen floor with a toothbrush?
“… look after my plants?”
No. No. No. Anything but that! I can’t do it. Come on, take the kids and raise them as your own. With God as my witness, I AM NOT CAPABLE OF LOOKING AFTER YOUR AWARD WINNING BOTANICAL GARDENS!
She set a date for a week later when I was to come over to walk through her foliage beautification routine. I could only hope my appendix would burst and I would be laid up in the hospital. No such luck.
We started indoors.
“This lovely likes to be watered from the bottom, never the top. With this one, you fill the water bottle and turn it upside down in the soil. I’ve started these flats from seeds. Be sure to tip the tray gently so the water trickles east to west. “ Omigosh, I’m in trouble.
“This seems a bit dry.” I offered as I felt the soil in a flower pot on the counter. “Should we water it now?” I asked.
She plunged a knowing finger into the soil and immediately crunched her eyebrows together in a concerned look.
“Oh, no, its fine. You wouldn’t want to over water it”.
OKAY. I DON’T KNOW WHAT I’M DOING. MY FLOWERS ARE PLASTIC! I’M THE WRONG PERSON FOR THIS JOB!
We headed outdoors to her newly purchased crowd of trees that she won’t have time to plant before she leaves. My job was to keep them alive in pots.
“Is there some warranty on these? Can I sign a waiver stating I’m not responsible if they band together and go on a hunger strike?”
She’s not amused.
“Watch the Weather Network. If there is a frost, you’ll have to burlap bag the shrubs out front. And if the weather gets nice and there’s no rain, you’ll have to move the hose around. We don’t have the automatic sprinkler system on yet.”
Oh, sure, have it on when you’re home.
You know how sunflowers always look towards the sun? Well, the second my in-laws left, her flowers looked towards the yellow pages for Competent Plant Sitters.
But guess what? Lucky, lucky me! My mother in law’s long time pal and gardener extraordinaire, Dandy Sandy, was relocating to our area and her new house wasn’t ready yet. She had to take up residence at the family homestead. “That’s too bad” is what I said -- yahoo is what I felt.
Dandy Sandy did it all. If there was a botanical homicide, it happened on her watch. I am innocent. Innocent, you hear!
And don’t think I’m an irresponsible big schlep. I picked up their mail while they were away and they get a lot of mail. Sure, I spilled coffee on some of it but it’s all still legible.
Their beloved son could have ended up with a green thumbed girl but would she have been so willing to hand over a kidney? I doubt it.
Friday, June 5, 2009
No wonder we're out of dryer sheets
Thud.
I’ve successfully dragged my third overloaded laundry hamper filled with fresh from the dryer clothes up from the basement.
My son is oblivious to my domestic work out as he sits at the counter with his school books opened.
I’m sure he figures it’s the Spin Cycle Fairy that drags out the dirty clothes from under his bed or picks up the piles on the floor and then poof, magically returns them to his drawers clean and folded each week.
“Doing math homework?” I ask while wiping away dripping sweat and pushing my dishevelled hair behind my ear.
“Yup. This problem is killin’ me. If a train is going 100 km’s per hour and makes 3 stops per hour that last a total of 15 minutes, how long will it take to get to Split Lip, Ontario which is 647 km’s away? My brain isn’t warmed up enough to figure it out.”
“Hmm. Let me try and heat up your thinking.” I shove the hamper with the clean clothes behind one busting with dirty stuff that’s been waiting for its trip to Laundry Land.
“If 5 people live in a house and everyone wears a new pair of underwear every day, how many pairs of underwear would have to be washed after 7 days?
“Easy. 35”
“And if those same 5 people also wore a pair of socks each day and a new shirt – how many items would need to be washed?
“Another 70 so 105 things would have to be washed”
“Good. Let’s add one pair of pants each.
“We’re at 140.”
“Toss in 12 pairs of pajamas and let’s go for 5 sweatshirts per 7 days.”
“Okay …. Ah, carry the one …. 159”
“Four of the people play a soccer game and have a practice each week. So 8 pairs of soccer shorts, 8 jerseys, 8 socks. What are we at?”
“Plus 24 …. We’re at 183”
“10 towels, 4 pairs of sheets, 7 pillow cases, 5 tea towels”
“209 – Mom, this is getting ridiculous”
“And because the weather is so unpredictable right now, we have tons of days when people change from shorts to jeans, put on a long sleeve or a hoodie with track pants. Blankets and comforters need to get washed, baseball hats, jackets. I think we can safely add another 30 miscellaneous items weekly for these 5 people.”
“239”
“Now, how many items get taken out of a drawer, merely held up in the air, not selected for wear and put in the dirty laundry hamper instead of back in the drawer?”
“Mom. We’re done. I can’t figure it out in my head anymore”
“In a year, we’re talking about more than 12,000 items washed, folded and put away. Don’t say Laundry Chute, say ‘Shoot, Laundry.”
“Forget the laundry, Mom. I’d rather figure out how long it takes to get to Split Lip, Ontario”
“Me, too. Where can I buy a train ticket?”
I’ve successfully dragged my third overloaded laundry hamper filled with fresh from the dryer clothes up from the basement.
My son is oblivious to my domestic work out as he sits at the counter with his school books opened.
I’m sure he figures it’s the Spin Cycle Fairy that drags out the dirty clothes from under his bed or picks up the piles on the floor and then poof, magically returns them to his drawers clean and folded each week.
“Doing math homework?” I ask while wiping away dripping sweat and pushing my dishevelled hair behind my ear.
“Yup. This problem is killin’ me. If a train is going 100 km’s per hour and makes 3 stops per hour that last a total of 15 minutes, how long will it take to get to Split Lip, Ontario which is 647 km’s away? My brain isn’t warmed up enough to figure it out.”
“Hmm. Let me try and heat up your thinking.” I shove the hamper with the clean clothes behind one busting with dirty stuff that’s been waiting for its trip to Laundry Land.
“If 5 people live in a house and everyone wears a new pair of underwear every day, how many pairs of underwear would have to be washed after 7 days?
“Easy. 35”
“And if those same 5 people also wore a pair of socks each day and a new shirt – how many items would need to be washed?
“Another 70 so 105 things would have to be washed”
“Good. Let’s add one pair of pants each.
“We’re at 140.”
“Toss in 12 pairs of pajamas and let’s go for 5 sweatshirts per 7 days.”
“Okay …. Ah, carry the one …. 159”
“Four of the people play a soccer game and have a practice each week. So 8 pairs of soccer shorts, 8 jerseys, 8 socks. What are we at?”
“Plus 24 …. We’re at 183”
“10 towels, 4 pairs of sheets, 7 pillow cases, 5 tea towels”
“209 – Mom, this is getting ridiculous”
“And because the weather is so unpredictable right now, we have tons of days when people change from shorts to jeans, put on a long sleeve or a hoodie with track pants. Blankets and comforters need to get washed, baseball hats, jackets. I think we can safely add another 30 miscellaneous items weekly for these 5 people.”
“239”
“Now, how many items get taken out of a drawer, merely held up in the air, not selected for wear and put in the dirty laundry hamper instead of back in the drawer?”
“Mom. We’re done. I can’t figure it out in my head anymore”
“In a year, we’re talking about more than 12,000 items washed, folded and put away. Don’t say Laundry Chute, say ‘Shoot, Laundry.”
“Forget the laundry, Mom. I’d rather figure out how long it takes to get to Split Lip, Ontario”
“Me, too. Where can I buy a train ticket?”
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