In Like a Raging, Lunatic of A Lion

February has been pretty dull. Not a lot going on. March on the other hand? March is going to be nuts. INSANE. I am hosting a baby shower, have beloved friends visiting from Texas, and a wedding to attend in Arizona. That doesn't count that my Mom has the month off and we've planned a couple of excursions. Or that 2 old college friends want to get together for drinks. Or that it's my mother-in-law and sister-in-law's birthday. And there's something else too, but I'm not at liberty to write about it. Just know it's stressful. (and no, I'm not pregnant).

April showers, they bring nervous breakdowns.

Random Monday Thoughts

This time of year, the orange blossoms are in bloom. The scent, for some strange reason, is especially strong at night- and I love the smell. Reminds me of my parents' house, and my high school years, and when I first fell in love with my husband.

In unrelated news, Annie was diagnosed with scarlet fever. A couple of days of bed rest, some antibiotics, and she'll be good as new. After she goes back to school, I will need a couple of days of bed rest and some stiff drinks, and then all will be well.

We had a couple of people over last night to watch the Oscars. (and hopefully not go home with scarlet fever as a parting gift- woops!). We invited an old friend from high school that works in the industry, and was part of a team that won an Oscar way back when for sound editing on Braveheart. This was fun because he knew EVERYTHING that was going on last night. Every joke, every inside tidbit that completely went over my head. We plied him with carne asada, mojitos and sundaes and he educated us on what a DP does, who is well known in documentaries and why Blade Runner is the best film ever.

So if you don't live anywhere near an orange grove, imagine the scents of orange blossoms in bloom. There's really nothing like it. And if you can't- then come and visit!

Oh No.

My kid just threw up on my dog. This is going to be a spectacular day!

Bestest Thing Ever

Have you seen the show Mad Men yet? I rented this on a whim- heard a couple of people talking about it and thought it looked interesting. (especially since Doris Day is on our cable radio almost 24-7). Now? I'm obsessed. I love Don Draper. LOVE. I love the costumes, the attention to detail with the set designs, the witty dialogue and F. Scott Fitzgerald meets beatnik/post-war cocktail party repartee of the scripts. This is really, really good stuff.You have just enough time to get caught up before Season 3 airs some time this summer.

In other news, my Lucy saw a concrete truck pouring cement this morning and asked me, "Mommy? Why is that truck throwing up all over the sidewalk?" I should change my name to Mad Mom.

Lollyblogger's Gift Guide to Happiness

Men, this post is for you. Let me give you a word of advice. Gifts matter. They don't have to be expensive (a dozen roses is pretty pedestrian, really), but they do have to be thoughtful. And they do have to be on time. Only God has the power to move Valentines day to the 15th. Or Christmas to the 26th. Not that I speak from experience.

There are a couple of other points to consider. Gift wrapping scores you points. It kind of blows the whole shebang to casually beckon a birthday girl to the back of your car, pop your trunk and motion to a few shopping bags and say "Happy Birthday!". Or to come bustling into the kitchen on December 24th, and toss someone a Williams Sonoma bag and bluster out a "Happy Holidays." Not that I speak from experience or anything.

If you did happen to forget a holiday, like, well, let me think- your ten year wedding anniversary? It doesn't make the forgetfulness go away by refusing to open your spouse's card. By insisting that you will open the card on a later date when you would "really celebrate." This promised celebration will never occur, and the card that was written for you will sit, unopened, in the kitchen junk drawer for three more years. Until it is thrown away. Not that I know anything about this.

So, to recap-
1. Buy a gift.
2. Wrap a gift.
3. Be on time.

And your holidays will be much happier.
Love,
Lollyblogger

Glutton for Punishment

There are times that I'm hesitant to write about what's been going on because it makes me sound like a self indulgent princess. Which, if you know me well, I'm freely happy to admit. But if you do know me, you know that we've worked really, really hard to get to where we are right now. We haven't taken many vacations. Put birthdays on the back burner. I've been with my husband since I was sixteen, and I worked a ridiculously consuming job in New York City while he went to medical school. Then I shifted careers and did a software gig while he finished his residency. We picked up and moved to Texas for two years, and now are trying to settle into life in Orange County.

My point of this laborious history lesson is not to put you to sleep, but to explain that for the last thirteen years- we've been living in a state of transition. Working from one gig to the next, always wondering what our next step would be. I had hoped this transient state would diminish once we got settled here. I was wrong. I'm still wondering when I'll get to a place that feels like home. Maybe never? That's what happens when you grow up a military brat.

Now, for a total princess update. (barf bags ready?). I completely whonked out my back on Goofy's Roller Coaster at Toontown last week. It was humiliating. I lost a lot of mobility, and walked around with a heating pad or a frozen bag of peas around my shoulders. Nothing seemed to help. I finally went to one of those Massage-In-A-Box franchises in a fit of desperation. My massage therapist was a sixty year old guy, with a paunchy tummy and a thin head of hair.

But this guy had fingers of steel. He told me he was going to do some trigger point stuff, and warned me that I would initially feel pain, but that in the end it would all work out. I didn't even flinch. He was disappointed, and tried again. And again. At one point, I think he crawled up on the table and put his knee in my back. I yawned. He kept at it, and kept commenting about how tight my muscles were, and how I may not feel well for a couple of days. I was thinking to myself," Whatever. This is a complete waste of time."

Until it came time to get off the table. I was light headed, dizzy and nauseous. Mr. balding paunch tummy was standing outside the door, holding a glass of water and burst into a fit of giggles when he saw my face. My eyes were swollen and I muttered, "What the hell just happened in there?" When I got home, my muscles were tender, almost bruised. By the next morning, I could already tell that I was getting better.Two days later I can almost raise my arms high enough to put my crown back on. And on Monday? Monday I'm riding that stupid coaster again.

Ode to Trader Joes

I'm Just Not That Into It

Dear Hollywood,

I just got through watching "He's Just Not That Into You" and I have to say, I'm a little disappointed. Now Hollywood, you and me go way back. Remember Sixteen Candles, Say Anything or Something About Mary? Good stuff, Hollywood. Good times.

Now? Not so much. We have one extreme- the Sex in the City Carrie Bradshaw and superfriends, who denounce a relationship faster than you can flash a red Louboutin sole. Or Juno- so intent on proclaiming how "indie" the whole thing is that it feels like a forced Urban Outfitters ad. And tonight's fiasco----- which had no redeeming qualities whatsoever, and took longer to get through than Ghandi. And, rumor has it, because I sat next to someone who gets their hair done by the same person as Jennifer Aniston, that SHE is even humiliated to talk about it. Yes, it was that bad.

What gives? Why must women always be portrayed as needing a man so much (yes Carrie, even you). We are not a bunch of idiots that gather at our supposedly trendy jobs to hash over how much men like/dislike us. You cannot take women well into their 30's and make them act like seventh graders. It's grating. It's annoying, and most importantly, it's not real.

And how do you make this better? You give me the Shopaholic series, and now I have to see Becky Bloomwood blather on and hide a credit card in the freezer like a fucking moron. This Hollywood, is why I don't really go to the movies. I'd rather watch MadMen on Netflix.  At least Betty Draper is aware of her stereotype. Or, at least Don is.

Love,

Lollyblogger

Ariel Eats Flounder Rolls for Dinner

We went out for sushi again tonight. After having the brain child of convincing our children that Japanese food is the only kind of food mermaids eat, they are willing to give it a go. Tonight they happily ate miso soup as long as we called it kelp, and not seaweed. They slurped up udon noodles, ate shrimp dumplings, and macked on some teriyaki and tempura. Annie even ate a tuna roll and Lucy can now use chopsticks. (She can't seem to stop pooping in her diaper at night, but whatever). 

I wish Disney would pick their next princess from India. I'd like to break some naan family style.

Being Three

In the last few days, my three year old has done the following:

1. Cut her hair

2. Smeared diaper cream all over her room.

3. Gotten into the nail polish and "given" herself a manicure

4. Drawn on her pants with a ballpoint pen

5. Aged me beyond my years.

Useless Bits of Information

I'm tired today. Recovering from yesterday's Fat Fest. We went all out yesterday, on the fat-o-meter. First, we started the day by hosting some old friends for brunch. I made 2 praline french toast casseroles, a broccoli cheddar quiche, spinach artichoke dip, a crumb cake and assorted muffins. Luckily someone brought a fruit salad to offer something healthy.

After we recovered from that food coma, we went out for Japanese and completely porked out on sushi. I always think sushi sounds so light and healthy, until I splurge on tempura rolls and lobster popcorn rolls. Sigh. Anyhooo..... because I'm still digesting, I thought I'd post a list of stuff that has been floating my boat.

The first, is BIG LOVE, on HBO. Anybody else watching this? I've seen it for 3 weeks, and am completely hooked. It's about bigamy, and the Mormon church, and it is completely fascinating. (once you get past the pompadour hairdos).

The second- is the Mortons Steakhouse tri-tip from CostCo. I'm becoming much more of an "assembler" than a cook for dinners during the week. A friend introduced us to this time saver of a good eat and I can't get enough of it. It's in the fresh food stuff- near the cheese, and you pop it in the oven for an hour and then it's done. I heart this.

House Beautiful magazine. It's no secret that I'm drowning in ideas of things I need to do for the new digs. What can be an overwhelming experience is made almost fun with this nifty little mag. EVERY single issue has had something useful for me. I picked out my coffee table, paint colors, names of fabric- it's a gold mine. Plus, I sound very with it when I go to dinner parties and talk about how Belgian casual is the new in. (wait! When do I go to dinner parties?)

Kiehls eye makeup remover. I heart this. It's got cucumber in it, so when things get hot around here (and they have- in the 80's today!) I pop this beauty in the fridge. Not only does it remove your racoon eyes, but it feels indulgent too. It's great. Seriously.

Bloomingdales. I know, I know- I'm a late comer to this party. I lived in New York City for 4 years, and while I visited Bloomies a lot, I would never call myself a serious Bloomies shopper. It was always too loud, too confusing. Almost like you were going to a shopping party and didn't know who to talk to first. Then, I moved here and discovered Fashion Island- the mecca of all shopping. And lo and behold, I found the red tag racks at Bloomies. 50% OFF THE LOWEST PRICE! I got a cashmere sweater for $40 last week, folks. And yes, there were tears in my eyes at the wrap stand.

So there you have it- a brief list of things that are making my day a little brighter. It's not going to stimulate the economy or anything, but at least I won't have smudged eye makeup.

Puppy Love

Daddy: Do you know who I love?

Lucy: Who?

Daddy: You!!!

Lucy: Do you know who I love?

Daddy: Who?

Lucy: George.