I’m In Kelley’s Breakroom Today!!

I’m honored to be featured on one of my favorite blogs today!!  Kelley’s Breakroom is a place where you can take a break from the serious, heavy world we live in and have a laugh- even for a minute. I think the world could use a few more Kelley’s. 

The flattery I’m seeing over there today makes me think she likes me. She really likes me! So do me a favor and don’t tell her about any of my flaws. It would just crush her. 

Click HERE for a quick trip to Kelley’s Breakroom and read my story. You won’t be sorry. 

Pants On the Ground

Luke (3 yrs old) seems to be going through a stripper phase.  I can turn my back for one minute only to find that he has completely disrobed in record time. I try to choose my battles wisely so I only make an issue of it if we have company coming over. However, there is just no preparing for a random knock at the door.
Case in point, Daniel, the handsome exterminator, came by a couple of days ago to call on me (or treat our house for bugs, whatever). Luke walked up and said, “Hi,” to which he responded, “Well, look who’s got pants on!”

Winnie the Poo (No, I didn’t misspell it)

I took Luke to see Winnie the Pooh yesterday with some friends. Thankfully, it was short because I hate Winnie the Pooh with everything that I have. I could give you a descriptive breakdown of each character and their tragic flaws, but suffice it to say I could punch every one of them in the face and not feel bad about it. There’s nothing worse than a whiner. Take a Prozac already, Eeyore because I don’t want to hear it. As for the most pointless character award, that goes to Piglet. I won’t ruin the ending for you, not because I’m a nice person, but because you should have to sit through the same shit I did.

You get my drift. I dislike the whole idea of Winnie the Pooh, but I sacrificed for my kid because he loves that bear (and because I knew it was only one hour and nine minutes long). Despite my role as martyr, I found a way to amuse myself.
We couldn’t see a movie without popcorn, so I approached the counter and was greeted by a neatly dressed metrosexual gentleman. I ordered our snacks, and whipped out my wallet to pay. “Sorry about all these ones,” I said. “I’m an exotic dancer.” His eyes shifted from the cash register to me, then to Luke, and back to the register. His uninterested silence had called my bluff. “Not really,” I said feeling dejected. “I just had a yard sale.” I suddenly felt like Baby in Dirty Dancing after announcing to Patrick Swayze that she had “carried a watermelon”. He finally opened his mouth to say, “Mmmkay, thanks.”
So I get it. My joke wasn’t appropriate for the orientation of the audience, and maybe my joke wasn’t funny at all, but it had taken my mind off of what was to come for the next hour and nine minutes of my life. I took solace in that. The extra buttered popcorn didn’t hurt either.  

Thanksgiving Run Down

Thanksgiving is upon us and the turkey is almost ready. It has been soaked in brine, injected, and rubbed. The only thing left to do is make love to it, but for the life of me, I can’t tell the top from the bottom.

If you’re like me, then you have three or four families to celebrate this holiday with. We had one such celebration this past weekend with my folks in Alabama. It was wonderful as always and reminded us of years past when we were all together. However, this year was very different. My baby sister is all grown up now, and within the last year has a new job and a new house to be thankful for.

I listened to her talk about her brand new world with pride. “I met my next door neighbor. She introduced herself as Jen, then mentioned that she goes by Diamond at work.”

I jumped in. “Well, that’s a lovely story, Leigh. Thank you for sharing that. You know, the world needs strippers just as much as lawyers.” I saw Brantley open his mouth and before he could get it out, “No, we cannot talk about something else. Stop trying to change my family.”

By that time, Leigh had moved on to a work related story. She is a nurse in a trauma/burn unit and has to encounter horrific things every day. She was telling one of these horrific and detailed stories at the table, but to my satisfaction she ended it on an up note. “If you can move your arms, I’m not washing your who-ha or brushing your teeth,” she said. Brantley got up and took Luke into another room where I heard him say, “Daddy, I wanna brush my teef.” Luckily, they were too far away to hear her recount accidentally activating a comatose patient’s penile implant, and then having to call the doctor and tell him that she had just given her patient an erection.

Ah, the sweet moments spent with family. I hope your Thanksgiving is equally magical. Happy turkey day!!

the Gardener

It was a clear October day. A perfect seventy-eight degrees in sunny Destin, Florida. We were just getting out of the pool and drying off when up walks the gardener. We remember her from our past visits because she LOVES to talk.

“What a sweet baby. How old is he?” she asks.

“Thank you. He’s four months.”

“Well he’s certainly a cutie. I’m about to be a first time grandmother.”

“Oh, how exciting. Congratulations.”

Now the conversation would’ve been fine if it had ended here, but it didn’t.

“Yeah, my son got his girlfriend pregnant.”

I can feel the tension beginning to mount and somehow I know it’s about to go south. I hear the back door and look over to see Brantley escaping into the house. He has left me holding the bag…and his son.

She reaches down and grabs Luke hand. All I can think about while she plays with him is that she hasn’t washed her hands. She begins talking to him sweetly. It’s baby talk and she leans over into his face. He likes her and smiles back. Ok, maybe I was wrong. This isn’t bad at all.

“Peek a boo. Peek a boo!” she says.

Her baby talk continues. “The girl my son got pregnant was a stripper. She tried to have an abortion and we said, no you can’t. No you can’t. Peek a boo.”

I jump up. “Nap time! It’s way past his nap time and I’ve got to get him in bed before he gets fussy. Good luck with the grandbaby. Ok, bye.”

I walk inside and see Brantley sitting at the kitchen table. He’s having a leisurely popsicle and watching tv. “She’s weird” he says.

“How would you know? You left us to the wolves out there. I want you to know that she was talking to your son about abortions.”

“Was she for or against?”

“That’s not the point, Brantley. One day, years from now, Luke will be in therapy recounting a repressed memory of a woman with dirty hands talking about strippers and abortions.”

Then through his blue popsicle stained teeth, Brantley imparts me with wisdom. “He’s going to find out about it at some point, Lori. We can’t keep him in a bubble. And we’ll probably ALL be in therapy one day.”

“That is perhaps the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard!…except for the part about therapy. I think I need some right now!”