Mixed Bag

You know you’re too busy when you get out of the shower and realize you’ve shaved the same leg… twice.  I apologize for the delay in posting this week’s blog, but it’s been nuts at work.  Unless you thought the digital transition had some really bizarre effect on your television set, you’ve probably noticed that I’m filling in for Demetria this week.  Don’t worry!  It’s not permanent.  She’ll be back on July 6th, and I’ll go back to providing the inane fodder on our website you’ve grown so accustomed to.

In the way of updates, I’m happy to report that I survived the week my niece was in town.  It’s not that I was scared, but having only one child myself, I was a little intimidated by the prospect of managing two for an entire week.  It was sort of like asking a player from the farm team to step up to the majors.  You think you can handle the pressure, but you’re never totally sure unless given the chance.  All in all, I thought it was a huge success… no trips to the E.R., lots of laughs, and no Joan Crawford moments on my part.  I guess I could have set the bar a little higher, but I was trying to shoot for something achievable.  No sense blowing my confidence.

My sister-in-law had already put me in an insurmountable hole.  When Dalton spent the week there, she took them to every museum in Indianapolis, a former President’s home, a minor league baseball game, and the pool every single afternoon.  How could I possibly compete with all that?  I thought about asking the Carnival Kia guy if he’d relocate his Ferris wheel to my front yard for the week, but I thought the neighbors might complain.  Plus, I figure when he says “don’t you leave… until you see me” he’s probably talking to customers… not newscasters trying to hijack carnival rides.

I have to say, I actually learned a lot the week my niece was here.  As it turns out a 7 year old is, in fact, capable of transporting a bowl of milk to the sink when finished with their cereal.  I nearly fell out in the floor when my niece did it… unprompted!  My own daughter had me convinced this was some rite of passage that should only occur after the age of say… 13.  I also noticed that not all children my daughter’s age are attached to you like an appendage.  Hannah entertained herself for hours on end without my help.  Sometimes I would go frantically searching for her throughout the house because she had been quiet for so long.  As for my own precious angel, she never got more than 20 feet away from my side.  I’m convinced she’ll be crawling into bed with us… woobie in hand… until the day she leaves for college.

On a totally separate note, I got another hate e-mail last week.  No condolences please.  I’m not looking for sympathy.  I share these strictly for your own personal entertainment and to give you some insight into the kind of people who may be standing next to you in the grocery.  This particular e-mail comes courtesy of one of my “concerned fans.”

Is it really healthy to put all of that hair color or proxide on your hair? We are wondering if you will loose your hair later in life. Don’t mean to be critical, just concerned.

Sincerely,
Your fans

Again, I’ve left the typos in for effect.  I thought about telling her I’m already bald, and these are just wigs in various lengths that I rotate.  About once a month, I’ll put on one with dark roots… just to make it look realistic.  Seriously though, what are people thinking?  Am I supposed to go to Vanderbilt and commission a study?  Does he or she want me to stop coloring my hair, shave my head… what?  

I’ve decided one day I’m just going to sing that India Arie song, “I am not my Hair”… on-air.  That’ll give viewers something legitimate to e-mail about.  I’m a terrible singer!  I became aware of this a couple of years ago when my husband gave me a karaoke machine for Christmas.  It’s amazing what a microphone does to highlight a bad singing voice. 

Lastly, I want to make a public apology to all of the people I nearly run over in the grocery store on a weekly basis.  I’m usually so pressed for time that I look like one of those people on a 70’s game show trying to load up their cart with free items on the clock.  As a result of this rash behavior I generally forget at least two items, forcing me to be in the grocery a minimum of four times a week.    

Last week I nearly slammed into this twenty something year old guy with my cart.  I thought at the rate of speed I was traveling, I was probably nothing more than a blur.  The guy probably doesn’t even watch the news, right?  No such luck.  He back tracked three aisles to ask if I was the “news lady”.  I reluctantly fessed up and admitted, this was as awkward for me as it was for him.  Honestly, I can’t believe I’m on t.v. either!  He said it was cool.  He just wanted to make sure because this was going to make for a great ”bar” story.  

I guess I should have been insulted, but I couldn’t help but laugh at the prospect.   Two years ago, I was minding my own business working for the state.  Today, I’m a “bar” story.  Life is a wild ride… is it not?  I hope you’re enjoying yours as much as I’m enjoying mine.