Yesterday at Sophie’s soccer game (a wicked 2-0 win with my kiddo in the goal the second half) it was hot. Like, really actually pretty hot and 75 degrees or something, and very sunny and gorgeous in that dazzling fall sort of way it gets around here that makes the houses cost a million dollars. And now today it’s winter. Rain, wind, cold, rain, and, at my house: pumpkin pie (from scratch, no canned stuff, bitches), Mexican hot chocolate, pajamas all day, jigsaw puzzles, and Ugg boots. Bless the rainy Sunday.
But, yesterday, when it was hot and sunny, I was pissed all day long because last week someone went into my van and STOLE my sunglasses. Strangely, they left the 1980s REM CDs, and the iPhone/Pod charger thingie, and the stuff for Goodwill, and the seventy thousand reusable grocery sacks, and my twenty year old prescription Giorgio Armani glasses with the clip on sunglasses (oh, yes, clip.on.), but they took the sunglasses that Scuba bought me in Lahaina in 2009 to replace my five dollar Walgreens Carmella Soprano shades that I bought for the trip and holy sweet baby bacon am I pissed. (Holy sweet baby bacon? I have no idea, dude.)
I just grabbed my iPhone and emailed myself a photo of those glasses, the Carmella ones, because really:
No, I absolutely did not cap my teeth. I don’t know, it’s some weird iPhone distortion and Hawaiian sun mixture going on there, but you probably did not even notice my hollywood teeth until I brought it up, because you were so fixated on my UGLY UGLY sunglasses. After a couple of days of Scuba saying, Wow, baby, I can’t believe you forgot your track suit. And, Hey, do you know where Meadow is? he pulled me into a sunglass shop and got me these great new glasses:
Jenny took this in NYC
And my point is that except for the black Ray Ban Wayfarers my dad bought me in the 80s, these were the only sunglasses that I ever loved and some dumbass went into my van and stole them. Then they probably threw them away because they’re a little scratched, but HELLO, any sunglasses you rip off from a minivan are likely to be scratched. DUH. I don’t think they make them anymore, or at least the only ones I can find are ones with fancyass polarized lenses that cost twice what the original ones did. Anyway, thinking about it puts me into a rage and I’m usually thinking about it most when I am driving or watching the girls play soccer so both of those things have been extra fraught lately, and I know that’s not the proper use of fraught, but it’s fitting my mood.
Lemme calm down. Here’s some other things, things besides my daughter squirting liquid out her eye after snorting it up her nose (WTF? I never knew this was a thing the human body could do, but when I tell people about this – usually kind of urgently and with a fistfull of their shirtsleeve in my hand – someone always says, Oh my friend in high school could do that! so I guess that’s just one of those things I missed out on entirely.):
- Sophie told Scuba that cows make milk in their sarcophaguses. He asked her if she knew what that word meant, and she told him, correctly, and then added, And? it’s where cows make their milk.
- Sophie also told Scuba that she wants to work at Hooters when she grows up, so she can meet hot guys. (We had a little talk about that.)
- I was at Trader Joe’s and there was this dude in sandals and homemade pants and a tshirt fill of holes and some stringed instrument slung across his back and he was asking the guy who worked there a bunch of questions. And then, he saw some cookies, and he got all hepped up and said to the TJ’s employee, Do you have any cookies without POISON IN THEM? The TJ’s guy kinda looked at him, trying to see if he was joking, and the guy with the seventeen holes in his shirt was all, Um. Like, sweetened with fruit? And I totally laughed and (accidentally) snorted really loud because, well, because I was laughing at him, because if you want stuff like that, you have to make it or go to a specialty store, or learn to freaking bake and realize what you are asking for there, exactly, and I think he just wanted everyone around him to really understand his stance on sugar, but he needed to learn that WE DON’T CARE, so it was okay to laugh at him.
- Okay. Now I feel a little bit mean. Being mostly nice sucks.
The post title was lifted from this Be Good Tanya’s song. Because I have a terrible desire to travel right now and I seriously cannot. I can just daydream of packing a bag and driving someplace with Scuba in a shiny Airstream like this one. Check out the last couple of pictures to see the shiny, shiny, fold up bike (squee). Also? How bitchen is that kitchen?