18 May 2007

5 degrees

I decided to go for a drive to clear my head. The kids were making me a bit crazy today so the quiet was a welcome change. I stopped to get some gas and on the way home, grabbed snacks and breakfast makings for tomorrow. It's a mistake to go ravenous to the grocery because I spent $40 more than I wanted to. By the time I got home the kids were soundly tucked in bed and hubby was painting at his desk. A quiet evening behind a book was just what the doctor ordered.

or in other words............

I lit out on Boo and the babes cause I be needing some chilaxin time. My cribs got me trippin so I hopped my ride, fo' shizzle, tippin in my 'lac, lovin' my sprewell's tricked to 22". Shellin' for gas and grabbed eats for the week. I get back in the 'lac got home to my Mack. Fo' Rizzle, my dizzle. Peace out! Word.

or perhaps a little like this....

I was persuaded by my beloved to change my vantage and acquire some greatly needed fresh air. The vexation that mounted within me was solely that emotion incurred by four sedulously exuberant children enduring the restraint of palatable free movement in an uncommonly small dwelling. Our children had a predilection for such exuberance, and were uncommonly more taxing than days previous. This lent to my deep gratitude for today's lack of banter, of which I was typically subjected to on a daily occurrence. My travels afforded me new perspective and tranquil elucidation. I blissfully welcomed the absence of verbose children as I stopped at market to restock my meager pantry. Leaving with impecunious wallet albeit, with trunk contents that any chef would appreciate and relish, I arrived at my residence without much ado. Much to my delight, I discovered my darlings slumbering peacefully. Alas, my love and I could partake in the utter sweetness of quiet to pursue our hobbies. Mine would include the examination in due length of a literary masterpiece by the one and only Jane Austen. Notwithstanding the plethora of book acquisitions from which to choose, who would dare fixate on a sole publication? Dare, not I.

or in better words......

Dude, like the kids were, like wiggin' on my melon! Hubby gave me a shout out to like, totally bail and cruise. I got jonesin' for some munchies, like so, 7-11 here I come for some grindage. SAH-WEET! I pulled a cheater five and mastercashed it, cause I bought so much I tanked the bank, dude. I like hot-dogged it home in the Jeep to find the offspring were countin' barrel rolls, dude, like selling Buicks...like freakin crashed, man. Excellent! So the Kahuna and I chilled in front of the tube. Wicked awesome.

or maybe, possibly it went like this:

I didn't care if I looked like a transient. I was going to get some quiet time or die trying. Hubby got home and asked if I wanted to get out. Like THE ALCATRAZ BIRDMAN, I did. With delusions of sanity, I bolted for the van. Spilling out Taco Bell wrappers, I opened the driver's door as I think to myself what is on the to-do list for tomorrow. Clean van. Mop ceiling. Paint Entire house. Pick up 1.4 million legos. The gas light goes on but it's hard to tell because pretty much all of them are on. Resisting the urge to leave the van running down at the airport, I tanked up the van and ran into the store. Nothing like grocery shopping by myself to buy luxuries like toilet paper and milk. I was sure Mr. Coffee would be posting our children for sale on eBay soon enough. How nice of him to let me out alone. I smiled knowingly at the screaming child in the store because frankly, it wasn't mine. I got home, opened the ice cream and checked on the kids. Kids are asleep? The man has some unusual powers or a big roll of duct tape. I pulled out my latest read and dug in. Silence is almost as good as ice cream. Almost.

20 March 2007


On Friday, I had a little change in the usual schedule. I went to the airport early and then rented a car and drove and drove and drove...Badoozer has visited me twice, so it really was my turn. The rental was red, sporty and came with two complimentary speeding tickets. Okay, not true. Maybe they would have if there was a lawman around...or anyone around for that matter. You're looking at rush hour and I was driving the speed limit..plus a little more. What does the 9 and the zero mean?

I drove around Badoozer in my little sports car for the weekend, which was nice except when you're stopping at imaginary stop signs in the middle of the road. It's also really bad when your passenger flashes the nice policeman while trying to dazzle him with her wits. I think she was asking directions to the rave while our heads went into auto-bob to Van Halen. The policeman was nice, though. He said something about Badoozer smelling good, needing a phone number and a mumbled about bribe money. I'm just thankful we had bail. Apparently Badoozer only likes firemen.

You can't make this stuff up. Oh, wait. I might have embellished just a skiff.

On another note, when there are three lanes on the road, one is left, one is right and one is the middle. Wouldn't you agree? Well, back up the Chevy Cobalt buddy, because in Mayberry, apparently there is a TURN lane and a right and left lane.

Me: "Which way?"

Badoozer: "You want to be in the left lane"

"COOL! It's like having a human GPS!", I think to myself as I roll into the left lane.

Badoozer: "Where are you going?!! Left lane! Left lane! Left LANE!!"

Traffic starts, I'm confused and I'm now blasting through the intersection apparently going in the opposite direction of our destination. I've driven all over the US, big cities, small towns, highways and byways. I can handle traffic, road rage, even reloading. This town was just a hard nut to crack with their fancy multiple lanes.

Me: "I AM going left!!"

Badoozer: "NOT the turn lane!"

Me: "It is the left lane!"

Badoozer: "That's a turn lane, not a left lane! Where are you going!?"

Apparently she meant the other other left lane. I start to circle the wagons like the whitest ever Chief Joseph as we argue proper lane names. This turns into hysterical laughing and making fun of the people we see along the way. Eventually, we ended up eating really good Italian food.

Two words. Strom. Boli. Three more words. Greek. Sal. Ad. We ate too much and nearly sploded on the way home.

As you can see, there are builders putting together the townhouses next door to her mansion that she likes to call her 'little townhouse'. Seriously, Donald Trump has smaller houses. It's really spacious. Aside from parking angst, I'd love a place like that.

Parking is a problem, though. On any given weekday, they turn her cul-de-sac into a military base gone Olympic obstacle course complete with roofing nails, flatbed trucks and gravel piles. They then proceed by packing exactly 67 vehicles between the start of her drive and the honey bucket you can see in the picture (that's a Terlit, ya'll) I almost jumped into their paving rig and started clearing the way flat but Badoozer pulled a 7 inch knife and negotiated with them. The woman has skills. What can I say?

There was also an incident involving her MAC. May it rest in peace. Pieces?

Driving back kept me from watching the Super Bowl. I did manage to catch a glimpse of Prince singing in the rain at half-time. I'm bothered at the lack of complaint about his head gear. Did anyone else notice he was wearing an Aunt Jemima do-rag? For crying in my breakfast, was he setting his hair because I thought he might whip out a stack of pancakes and start pouring. Purple Rain better be boysenberry.

-Bee likes pancakes