Today my gorgeous big sister, Meghann, turns 30. She’s fit a lot of joy, love, experience, and accomplishment in her time on earth thus far (and she only had my help for the last 28 years!) I cannot wait to see what she does in the next 30!
Love you, Bun!
I’ve heard that writing can be a great way to express one’s feelings, so I thought it would be nice to share the history of a family member that Gas and I've really cherished over the last 7 years. Despite having lost a multitude of them over the years, I’ve determined that regardless of what people may tell you it’s always a traumatic experience.
The year was 2003. Gas and I had met only two years earlier and she had been wanting one for a long time. Her previous Jinksy was inherited by her brother. Needless to say, that didn’t work out so well for Jinksy. Having felt some grief over this himself, Gas’ dad started working behind the scenes to get his paws on a new one. Fortunately he had a client who was looking to pass their little darling on to one very special owner who could give her the care she needed. So after a short negotiation she was ours:
A 1991 Pontiac Grand Am LS.
Gas was thrilled. They went everywhere together. To the store, to my house, and even to Petco (to look at the puppies of course). She made the move from Arizona, to Utah, and even to California. She did misbehave on our drive back to Arizona, but you know what they say: You don’t always get the car you want, sometimes you get the car you need. For what other reason would we have spent 2 unscheduled days in Kanab (est. pop 5400) Utah? However, after a little adjustment she became our loyal friend again. Shipping her from Utah to California did make us all a bit nervous though.
A couple weeks ago on one fateful afternoon she was struck with a common illness for her breed and could not pass a smog test. We were faced with a decision. Do we keep spending money trying to keep her alive in what might be a helpless battle? Or do we “retire” her before things get worse?
The DMV conversation went about as expected:
Your humble blogger: “Is there anything that can be done?”
DMV representative: “No. (long silence with a grip of typing going on in the background) And by the way can I put you on hold just for shits and giggles. ”
Your humble blogger’s internal monologue: “It wasn’t like she had attacked anyone! When you are walking down the street who do you fear more: A 1991 Grand Am or a Prius? Those things can kill people! A 1991 Grand Am couldn’t kill a person if it tried. I mean really it couldn’t. And even if it did you’d have plenty of time to get out of the way.”'
DMV representative returns.
Your humble blogger: “This whole experience has made me feel very isolated and alone as though no one cares.”
Not one to put up a fight though we excepted our condition and headed over to the yard to said our goodbyes. We did become a bit worried after spying the sign:
“Pick-n-Pull”! "Cash for Clunkers" (how crass)?! Can we please show some respect. And the way they just pile them up there by the thousand:
After some time we discovered it really is for the best though. And her legacy will live on since we used our bounty to make some much needed improvements outside to our deck (more on that later):
Goodbye old friend.
1991 Pontiac Grand Am (1991-2010)
At Weezy’s birthday, when confronted with this:
I asked Nana Eileen to grab me the pack of wipes from my nightstand in the bedroom. She returned with this:
Innocent enough, right? Until she opened the box and all of this sprung forth:
For the record, this is not a dildo; it is temporal lobe thermometer:
And this is not various tubes of lube and sensual massage oil, it is various tubes of diaper rash cream. Hot, I know.
And these are condoms. I guess there is no baby-friendly excuse for these. In fact, I am pretty sure they are babies mortal enemies.
Why are these kept in the wipes container? Because of this:
Eloise has developed a fervent interest in re-organization and it is on her daily agenda to rearrange all of the items in and around my nightstand (she will literally drag things from other rooms and put them in my lotion box!) The wipes container is our way of baby-proofing our birth-control options!
To all you who snickered and sent us pointed looks at the party, we are flattered you would assume we’ve got such an adventurous sex life, but I hope this post clarifies any misconceptions.
Now I have to go “change a diaper” … and for the record that really means change a diaper.
PS: Just because its funny, I am going to share with you a little Brakes trivia. What's the largest volume of condoms Brakes has ever purchased at once? Any guesses?
Just under 1500. He bought them online. In bulk. Just after Weezy was born. Hmm. (Do you think he is ready for numero dos?) Here is part of his stash.
When they arrived in the mail, I opened the box, gave Brakes a smile and said, “My how ambitious of you!” Bless his frugal heart.
Some people are born to shop, eat chocolate, be wild, etc. (or so I read at a tee-shirt stand in Tijuana back in ‘’95… Okay, so I have never be to Tijuana. Certainly not in ‘’95, I was 12 at the time. I just thought it sounded tough and complemented my bad-ass title. Thoughts?) I was born to tablescape. As many of you may have guessed, I’ve dabbled in tablescape architecture a time or two before with an occasional cloth napkin. Perhaps even a pillar candle. On special occasions, I’ve even been known to jam a post-it into a pine cone and call it a place card. I realize now that those were just cheap imitations of the real art of tablescapery- Behold, my masterpiece:
I call it: Ladies who Lunch
This tablescape was inspired by my dear sister-in-law, Diana. Her best gals and I threw her a surprise ladies tea to celebrate her engagement. She is getting married in August to the love of her life! And I am so touched that she asked me to be her maid of honor! (I know I should officially by called matron of honor, but yikes! That sounds frightfully old and dour, so I think I will just stick to maid of honor, thank you very much!) I had so much planning her fancy tea party and leapin-lizards (I mean damn-it-all-to-hell! Bad-ass theme, you understand.) we are going to have fun at her Hen Party in May! I am planning on riding our fat hogs up and down the coast, hitting every biker bar between here and T-town (Tijuana, my second home) and stopping for some arson and vandalism along the way… AKA: we are partaking in a lovely wine festival followed by a day at the spa! Should be divine! Ta ta! I mean, perch and rotate, mother truckers!
Good to know that if Eloise were ever to become a star, she will handle the paparazzi and manhandling of celebrity with aplomb!
And how cute is Weezy’s friend, S? She is a brand new big sister! Congratulations, S, R, and B! We cannot wait to meet baby I!
I know, Dad, I promised to quit talking about my pachina on public forums, but I am sorry, I simply cannot resist. I love the attention; I am a middle child- you have only yourself to blame.
(http://community.thebump.com/cs/ks/blogs/birth_stories/archive/2009/11/25/mrs-wubbins.aspx)
I’ve been at it again- chatting about my nether regions to anyone who’ll listen. After scaring the crap out of a newly pregnant woman I met in line at Trader Joes (why does all my inappropriate social behavior happen at Trader Joes?) I made a resolution to get the pachina talk out of my system once and for all! I decided to rewrite my birth story and submit it to the bump. I figured, that if it got posted, I could go there and re-read it every time I got the itch to chat about ginas and hopefully that would meet my need and I could leave the poor pregnant public alone.
I submitted it right before we moved last November and I recently discovered it is going to be published in The Nest magazine! Apparently I am not the only one obsessed with my pachina, she is getting quite a fan-base. I am thinking about setting up a Facebook page and a Twitter account for her. She is currently interviewing publicists.
Dad, are you proud?
