It seemed like a good plan.

I've had "convertible fever" for several months now. It started innocently enough when I became enchanted with a lovingly restored 1973 Mercedes convertible that Mr. Wonderful's brother had for sale. I'd pretty much gotten my mom into the idea of us buying it together and it living at her house so that we could share it. But then the impracticality of having (an even 50% share in) a two-seater while I've got a two year old sort of sank in, and we dropped it. But the idea of the convertible would not leave my brain. I constantly scoped out the ones I saw in traffic, trying to picture myself at the wheel. I started looking on Carmax and Autotrader.com, you know, just to see what was out there. Each beautiful spring day that passed, I would think, "Damn! Now THIS is convertible weather!!"

Finally, I'd had enough and started looking into renting a convertible for the weekend, just so I could get it out of my system. Memorial Day weekend was a bust. So was the weekend following. But then this past weekend, I got lucky. Orbitz.com hooked me up with the lowest cost convertible deal in town at Alamo out at the airport.

Mom had already planned on taking The Geej with her to Houston on Saturday to attend this big family shindig that I really wasn't that in to attending (more on that later). Plus, I needed to be at the house on Saturday to accept delivery of some furniture (more on that later too). So I booked the car, and soon after Mom and Geej headed toward Houston, I headed to the airport to get my car. I got to the rental counter, and the gal who was working there got on the phone to confirm my vehicle was there with the guy at the lot. I was fully expecting to get a PT Cruiser convertible because that's what they showed on their website and on the "Cars Available" sign at the counter. See, this was all part of my ultimate plan: I would rent something that I would never EVER buy--like a PT Cruiser--and I'd hate it so much that the convertible jones would be a thing of the past. Also, it was going to be hot as fuck this past weekend, so I figured I'd spend my whole time miserable and that would put yet another nail in my convertible coffin. But then this happened:
And this:
Oh. My. GOD!! I loved it!! I miss my Volkswagen, so being back in a VW felt like wearing a pair of comfy old shoes. And holy CRAP is this a cute car! It was like a Barbie car. Seriously, when they pointed me to this thing at the Alamo lot, I was like, "I am SO fucked." My plan was backfiring all over the place. I went and got Jaye, and we spent all Saturday afternoon riding around the picturesque hills of Austin, drinking our large Sonic iced teas, getting sunburned, and talking shit. It was paradise.

That evening, we went and picked up another friend of ours and drove up to the Arboretum to see a movie. Driving with the top down on a summer night is, seriously, better than therapy.

Meanwhile, in Houston, The Geej was also in paradise because she was getting to hang out with Dah and a real live human baby!! (He's the newest addition to our family; the first child of my cousin and his wife.)

The furniture I was having delivered? Geej's big girl bed:

Isn't that cute? It's a twin with a trundle. She knew it was coming, but when she walked in on Sunday afternoon and saw it (along with her room totally rearranged), she spazzed completely out. She was SO excited. It was hands down one of the cutest things I've ever seen. She kept making my mom come her bed over and over again. "Come yook, Dah! Yook at my bed!!" So awesome. Speaking of awesome, will you check out the girl in pigtails? It was the first time I fixed her hair like this, and I thought I was going to melt because she looked so damn precious.

Anyway, I hadn't told my mom what I was doing, so when she saw the bug in the garage, she wigged. "What did you DO?!" I let her think I'd traded my car in for about 2 minutes, then I told her the truth. I squeeeeeeeeeeezed Geej's carseat into the teeny backseat, and the three of us went for a spin. At first Geej was loving it. But when we got on MoPac and started going about 60mph, her love affair with the convertible ended, and by association, so did mine. "It's too windy! It's too hot! It's too noisy! I don't like this car! I want to go home!" was all I could hear from the backseat. So we turned around and started for home. The first red light we came to, I put up the car's top. It TOTALLY freaked her shit out. She was like, "Mommy! What IS that?!" I think I've got her convinced I'm magic.

We took the car back to the airport at the end of the day, and got into my dirty mom-mobile. Before we'd gone 1/2 a mile, Geej says, "Mommy, I like this car." Yeah, me too. But six months from now, I'm DEFINITELY going to have another convertible weekend. Damn, it was fun.

Updateafragalistic.

1) The Geej is going commando tonight. It's my first night of trying out the sleeping without the Pull-Up thing. She's dry 99.5% of the time in the mornings, so I figure we may as well try it out. I can't BELIEVE my baby is getting so big.


2) Speaking of, I had a nice Mother's Day. At first, The Geej was in a shitty mood--acting SO two, and pitching a fit at every turn. But then, I made her get back in her bed and tell me when she was ready to "Get up and be happy." And lo and behold, after a few minutes, she got up, and the rest of the day was bliss.


3) After a Saturday morning playdate with Mama Malcontent's young casanova, then Dah came to town, and I was suddenly free to go to Home Depot and do some more garden supply shopping. See, here's the thing: I thought a few weeks ago, "You know, I should really clean out that little bed around the oak in my back yard, and plant something." Well, nearly $300 and many dirty, sweaty hours later, I'm almost finished totally refurbishing my beds and building an entirely new bed to boot. I gardened my arse off on Saturday afternoon, and quickly discovered that I needed at least 3 more bags of mulch. And a new rake. And some other stuff. So even though I'm nearly done, I'm not totally done. When I am, I'll post pictures (but I don't have "before" shots, so prepare to be underwhelmed).


4) After gardening, I got ready for a Big Swanky Party!! Remember a few moons ago when I told ya'll I finally met the lady in town who shares my (fairly unusual) first and last names? Well, long story short, she was beginning a publishing venture that deals with local and sustainable foods, and I happen to work at a company who's got a HUGE focus in that arena, so she asked if I could connect her with some folks "inside" with whom she could build a business partnership. I did, and--next thing I know--I'm being invited to VIP events at mansions in Westlake. Wow.


5) Went to said VIP event that was hosted by Paula. Paula is the "Paula" from this. So there was plenty of that flowing throughout the evening. But you know what? There wasn't much food. And all I'd had to eat was a small Schlotsky's veggie sammich at like 11:30. Then I'd worked out in the hot sun for 3 hours. Then started drinking this:

PAULA’S LEMONADE
This one is so good, it sneaks up on you.

1 part Paula’s Texas Lemon Liqueur

1 part vodka

1 part club soda

Generous squeeze of fresh lemon juice

Mix ingredients and serve over ice.

That's from the website, and they even ADMIT that it sneaks up on you. Boy, did it ever. I was fine (really, I was), until I got into the shuttle to take me back to my car. Then WHOA--I was seriously fucked up. Thank god I had a more sober companion with me to help me out. She had to drive my car, pull over along MoPac to let me hurl, then help me inside once home so that I could curl up with my toilet and nice, cold ceramic bathroom tile. This was all before 10pm, mind you. See: THAT'S what happens when you don't get out much!!


6) Woke up this morning at 7:30. And you know what? I felt fine--absolutely fine. I didn't LOOK great, but I was totally okay. I think getting all that shit outta me, then getting a decent night's sleep certainly helped. Thank goodness I felt okay, b/c it was Mother's Day, my mom was here, and The Geej was being more than a handful.


7) Went shopping at Whole Foods and dropped $144 in 45 minutes.


8) Mom took me to pick up my car at my friend's house (embarassing), then The Geej, friend and I all went to lunch here. Holy crap, people, it was SO damn good! I'd heard and read good things about this place, but just hadn't gone yet. But after today's yumminess and lovely service, I'll be back. Plus, the table next to us ordered the ceviche, and it looked amazing. I wanna eat it. Soon. PLEASE try this place. They're in one of those mysterious "kiss of death" locations that seems like it's awesome, but whatever goes there always fails. They serve breakfast on the weekends, are kid-friendly, have outdoor seating, and a full bar. Go!! Now!! Save them (they were barely busy at during lunch time today)!


9) Came back home and took a righteous nap with The Geej and Earl.


10) Got up and finished planting the rest of my plants and spreading the rest of the mulch I had. And then we watered. I say "we" on purpose. You see, I recently purchased this for The Geej

I know! Isn't it cute?! The gloves say "Little Farmer" on them. Anyway, she's been "helping" me out with my whole Operation Flowerbeds project.


11) I've decided I hate Lindsay Lowhore more than I do Paris Hilton. But I still hate TobyFuckingKeith the most. He's releasing an album this week called "Big Dog Daddy." I can't WAIT to get it!!


12) Melatonin works. Good night!

"Math is hard."--Barbie and Karla May

I blame it on Mrs. Blankenship and House Bill 72.

I had always been good at math and been in gifted and talented or advanced classes as long as they'd been offering such a thing. That is, until I drank the deadly cocktail of 9th grade algebra + a shitty, impatient teacher. To cut her a wee bit of slack, she may not have been shitty or impatient if it hadn't been for the Texas legislature's recent passing of HB 72, better known as the "no pass, no play" bill (and the beginning of the "teach for the test" bullshit the Texas public school system can't rid itself of today). You see, besides making sure athletes had to have passing grades in order to take the field (which should've been happening all along, but hey, this is Texas, and we love our football!!), one of the things this bill did was determine these "essential elements" for every grade, every class. These were things that teachers HAD to cover in any given school year, and if they didn't (and couldn't prove through their templatized lesson plans and statewide test scores that they'd done so), they could lose their jobs and the funding for entire school districts could suffer.

Maybe I've got the facts wrong, but this is the way it was explained to me when I dared to fall behind in 9th grade algebra. There were concepts in algebra that I just could NOT get. This was very alarming and stressful to me, as I'd never EVER struggled--even slightly--in any other classes before. Except for P.E., but that's because I was a spaz.

But I digress...

I fell behind and would raise my hand to ask for a problem to be explained or re-explained, and Mrs. Blankenship wouldn't even try to hide her exasperation with me. "Come ON, Karla May. You're holding up the class. This is an essential element, and we've got to cover it today. This train has left the station, and the rest of us can't wait around on the caboose." That's right people: the bad permed bitch called me a "caboose" in front of the entire class. More than once. I was fourteen and mortified. She made me feel stupid. Really, really stupid. I finally just quit raising my hand, and cried through my homework every night. I struggled through the rest of the year, and barely managed a "B." I ended 9th grade absolutely math-o-phobic and wanting to disembowel Mrs. Blankenship and the entire state legislature.

The next year was geometry, which I was dreading. But at least it was "normal" math, not advanced math anymore. So now I was with other kids who might hate math and be just as dumb as me. Perhaps that meant I wouldn't be the only "caboose" in class. But something magical and totaly unexpected happened: I got geometry. Somehow the spatial relationships and proofs made perfect sense to me, and I sailed through class with an easy A. Fuck you, essential elements. Karla May was back, and confident. I loved geometry, and didn't feel like a huge dumbass anymore.

Then came Algebra II, and of course I found myself back in the conceptual Hell that I'd thought I'd left behind in 9th grade. And why? Because I'd never really learned Algebra I in any real way, plus I was scared shitless of it. So I spent yet another year crying through my homework and freaking the fuck out while the rest of my friends were mastering Trig and Calculus. My caboose ass somehow managed to squeak a "B" out of Algebra II, but just barely.

My senior year? I took "computer math," which was some BASIC programming on first generation Apple computers. The class was filled with potheads and jocks, and served as the last nail in the coffin of my one time love affair with math.

Fast forward to my (second) senior year in college. I met with my graduation counselor at the beginning of the school year to make sure I'd covered all of my graduation requirements--my "essential elements" if you will--and guess what: I lacked a math credit. Yep, it's just like those recurring nightmares you have where you've suddenly found out you have a test and realized you never went to the class. FUCK. ME. I was a fucking math-o-phobic English/Drama double major with a bad case of senior-itis. I could barely do the math required to balance my checkbook--even with a calculator. And now I was going to have to take a fucking MATH class to graduate when I hadn't taken math since 11th grade?! Jesus H. Christ. My counselor calmly advised me to take the misleadingly titled "Applicable Math for Liberal Arts Majors." I thought, "Oh awesome! I'm going to learn how to do my taxes and figure out how much I should invest in my 401(k)! Yipee!" But guess what kids--it was algebra. Straight up. And to put the mustard on top of this shit sandwich, it was taught by an Italian T.A. whose accent was so thick he sounded like one of the Mario brothers, and I couldn't understand a goddamned word he said. God it sucked. Again, I busted my ass to just try and pass the fucker. The only smart thing I did during this time was schedule to take the GRE because I figured, hey, I'd better take that thing when I was in the throes of a semester that included a math class because, as soon as that fucking semester was done, I planned on hitting "Erase" and forgetting everything I'd learned and/or bonging myself into oblivion.

But again, I digress...

Fast forward about 80 years to the present day: I STILL fucking hate math. Everyone who knows me knows this. Don't ever ask me to to figure out how to split a bill at a restaurant. I don't count change, so you could pretty much rob me blind, and I wouldn't know it. I haven't balanced my checkbook in over a decade, and I've still never done my own taxes.

Today, Jaye and our friend Jimmy and I were trying to figure out how to split the bill at lunch. For some reason, I was the one with the pen and paper trying to figure who owed what before tip after tax. Once again, I was in Mrs. Blankenship's class, afraid to raise my hand. But at least I wasn't the only one. It took the three of us about 20 minutes to figure it out, and we even had a calculator!! Our waiter actually asked if we'd been drinking because we all seemed so confused.

So congratulations, public education system. And fuck you, Mrs. Blankenship, wherever you are.

Has it really been four days since I kicked my own ass?

I'm still recovering from New Year's Eve. How sad is that? The hangover is long gone, but the bruises. The BRUISES, people!! If I didn't think I'd alienate and/or totally gross out most of you who take the time to read this silly blog, I swear I'd post pictures. The one on my butt is the most amazing. In a few short days, it's grown to the size of a small galaxy, complete with what look like vivid, spindly blue and purple fingers emanating from its center. Sexy.

My knee is better. I can almost walk like I'm not injured. However, I'm still not able to straighten it out completely. Again: Sexy.

And my newest ailment? TMJ. I've been waking up for at least six weeks now with aching, popping jaws and a bitch of a headache. I looked it up on this here Internet thing and, sure as shit, I've got me the TMJ. Symptoms list:

• Frequent aching/popping jaws and headaches? Check.
• Been grinding teeth for a long time? Check. I've worn a bite guard because of grinding problem since I was in my early twenties.
• Chew gum a lot? Oh yeah. Like a cow with her cud. Because it's classy, yo. But seriously: I chew gum like hardcore smokers smoke--frequently and with much pleasure.
• Stress? Yep.
• Insomnia caused because of aching jaws? You know it!

Sigh. I guess I can go ahead and start blowing through this year's medical deductible with a trip to an Ear/Nose/Throat doctor to get this thing officially diagnosed and hopefully get some relief.

See kids? Getting old is FUN!!

I have yet to lift a finger to take down any Christmas decor. I guess I've got to do it this weekend under penalty of law, huh? Really, I'm just kind of sick of looking at it. I'm ready to pack it away and forget about it until next December when I can (maybe) be charmed by it all over again.

Okay, I'll leave you with some randomalia for good measure:

• I find the smell of Play-Dough insanely comforting.
• I'm not buying the Jan/Michael thing on "The Office."
• I'm jonesing for the return/finale of "The Sopranos," but haven't been able to find out shit about when it's coming back on. Anyone care to clue me in?
• I may be going to a work conference thingie in Vegas ON MY BIRTHDAY! Hello, craps tables. I've missed you...
• I'm cooking up the best birthday surprises EVER for my mom. She drives me totally nuts, but she's so wonderful and has been so supportive of me through all of my BULLSHIT over the past year or so. She more than deserves it.
• My good buddy Michelle has been added to the blogroll over there on the right (Ruby Bird). Check her out. She's one of the coolest ladies in the land.

More. Soon. Freaks.

Ouch.

Here are all the locations on my body where I have bruises after the roller-skating/dancing/drink-a-thon last night:

• The top of my left foot
• The front/middle of my left thigh
• My right butt cheek
• The middle of my right forearm
• The heels of both of my hands

Yes. I had fun. Waaaaaaaaaaay too much fun, in fact. Don't believe me? Well, maybe the fact that my right knee got dislocated last night and is swollen to about twice its normal size will convince you. Lucky for me, this is the fourth time I've dislocated this sucker in the past decade, so I have a plethora of knee braces lying around to assist me.

And I think you'll be happy to know that our Iranian cab driver, Jaye, and I solved the problems of the Middle East last night during our ride home. So THAT'S fixed.

God, I want someone to take me out back and shoot me.

Oy.

I know this was a bad idea...

Today I ended up working from home because an el grande water main break at the major downtown intersection where my office is located meant that there'd be no peeing or pooing in our building all day long. My bladder is, more or less, the size of a grape, so that wasn't going to cut it for me. Anyway, I used the opportunity to run up to Petsmart around lunchtime and stock up on Earl provisions. He was just about out of everything, and clearly he's about to starve to death.Well, while I was back there in the kitty section, I had to swing by and glance at the potential feline adoptees, right? I always do that. You know, just cruise by and say hi. But this time, this very nice woman who volunteers for the rescue group where these cats come from started talking to me, and I told her about Ellen, and the next thing you know--boom--I'm meeting two of the kitties in the "getting to know you" room.

WTF?

First up was Sheila, a 4 year old female calico. So mellow and pudgy and sweet, with green, green eyes.

Second was Zoot, a 1 year old tuxedo male with a fun personality and lots of affection.

Damnit! They were both wonderful.

I left there and thought about them all afternoon. Finally I couldn't stand it anymore, and took The Geej up to meet the kitties to see if there was any kind of magical sign that one or the other of them should come home with us. When I got there, I learned that Zoot had ALREADY BEEN ADOPTED!! I guess that made part of the decision for us. But The Geej wasn't feeling all that hot today (she'd been running a fever earlier that I'd kept at bay by alternating ibuprofen and Tylenol), so she was a tad bit underwhelmed by the whole experience. Once again, Sheila was sweet and playful, and better yet, she was not at all afraid of the baby. My impulse was to scoop her up and take her home with us. But I didn't.

I decided to sleep on it, but now I can get that kitty out of my mind. I'm not sure how that big, fat mama's boy (pictured above) would deal with having a new little sister, but I can tell he's lonely without grumpy, old Ellen to torment.

God, what should I do?!

3 random photos

Random photo #1:

Taken Thursday morning. I'd just gotten The Geej dressed for school, and she looked so fuhdorable (new slang I'm trying to popularize that means "fucking adorable") that I had to take a picture. Okay, is it just me, or does she look like 14 in this picture?! Wow. There are some photos of her that I take where I can totally see into the future. This is one of them. She's such a stunner, and it's totally okay for me to say that because I had absolutely nothing to do with it.

Random photo #2:

This is one of my favorite pictures of my mom. It was unearthed from a box full of flood-damaged photos that we discovered after my grandmother died. There are a bunch of great snapshots from this particular day. The other little baby is my mom's cousin Butch. Yes, that was his given name. Anyway, they were apparently running around in their diapers and getting into all sorts of mischief. Eventually, they both got a bath in a washtub up on that porch. I know this, because there are some amazing snapshots of them going nuts with the water.

I had a similar one of me, about age 3, sitting on the front porch sporting a badass macrame vest that my hippie aunt had made for me. I'm tilting a can of Budweiser up to the sky, having a big ol' swig, and you can see my mom's hand reaching for it. I don't know what happened to that photo, but how great would it be to have both this one and that one side-by-side in a frame.

Random photo #3:

'Member the other day when I wrote about my new glasses? Well, here I am with them on.

Go ahead. Ask me any kind of brainy question. I'm sure I can answer it as long as I'm wearing these specs.