Being a Tramp

I spent the entire summer between 8th and 9th grade at Erica Herren's house jumping on her trampoline. I got so good at full twists and flips that we started spraying water on the trampoline to up the difficulty. Trampolining was my calling, or at least one of them that didn't have a college course for it. Damn the system!!

I've always had a soft spot in my heard for the tramp. About five years ago after five or so beers I caught a glimpse of a tramp in a neighbor's backyard and headed over to reclaim a piece of my childhood. Only problem was I was bigger, slower and drunker than when I'd mastered the tramp. The experience was cut short when I went flying from the trampoline and knew I was either going to hit the ground or come down with a spring between my legs. Despite my altered mind, I made a promise to myself that I would never again jump on a trampoline.

But then I was visiting Lexington this month and saw a sticker that says, "Do one thing everyday that scares you," and I adopted that as the lead on my to do list. When Heather said, "We bought a trampoline, wanna jump?," I responded with my old mindset, "No, it's dark and they're dangerous." Thank god for peer pressure.

Gio, a workmate who is younger and spryer than me, and Heather, who has to be since she has two boys, went careening for the trampoline and I refused to be the sissy left behind. Plus, Heather's trampoline has the protective net fence that keeps you from coming down on the springs or flying off the side. A few cautious jumps into it, and I was, at worst, a novice again. We were shooting up like rockets, enjoying the sense of weightlessness that only a tramp can give, playing "Crack the Egg" and "Knee Sit Knee." We were remembering how great it is to play, how fun it is to fall.





We were also discovering some of the ways we've aged. Gio didn't have the problem, but Heather and I peed a little everytime we got a good jump. Heather had the excuse of having two babies, but I couldn't play that card. I also had to collapse at some points to keep my heart from exploding my head since it was beating so fast. A trampoline is just about the best, most fun workout ever! It even tones your bladder!

The Difference a Decade Makes

I really liked high school. I really liked calculus homework and physics labs and anatomy dissections. I hated anything social studies oriented though, and the one general ed class I was in, U.S. History with an incredibly large Ms. Freeman, felt like a grooming ground for future criminals. Honestly, I haven't been as smart as I was in high school since I graduated from it.

The daily brain exercise wasn't all of its appeal. I liked my friends. I liked playing sports. I liked going to parties at strange houses. I liked riding down country roads with a carload of awesome people listening to everything from the Indigo Girls to Rage Against the Machine. I liked being brave enough to tempt trouble but always being smart enough to get out of it. I liked being sober and being able to laugh so hard I almost peed my pants at the same time.

My high school years weren't the best of my life, but they were a pretty fantastic start to it. Which is why, when I found out about a 10-year reunion a few months ago there wasn't a question in my mind that I'd be there, hopefully with some of my best friends from then who are still my best friends now. This past weekend I got to step back into high school with all the attitude of a slightly buzzed adult, and, despite a few mean remarks that I want to regret but really can't since they were based in truth and very funny, it was just like I hoped it would be.

My favorite people to see were Jason Meenach (who I've stayed in touch with accidentally through Shakespeare in the Park and the efforts of Sarah Smiley), Joelle Bryman (who was one of the coolest chicks I've never been able to be as good of friends with as I should be), Chris Ramsdale (who desperately needed to be proved wrong for thinking I was a lesbain all those years), and Tyra Connor (who is as funny today as she was in Mrs. Wheaton's English class when we were discussing the subtle sex in Romeo & Juliet). I also liked seeing Amy Leinbach, Allison Salyer, Brad Lacy, Paige Harlow and Nicole Drewitz again, mostly because they always made me seem cooler than I am. And finally, I got to meet some of the husbands and wives, although it still feels like we're too young to be married and breeding.

I wish I could remember more from high school so I would know who I missed seeing, but all those memories are getting updated with fresh ones from the real best years of my life. By the time I make it to my 20-year reunion, I'll probably only remember the people who have carved out a place in my heart since our first meeting at Tates Creek -- Ruble, Sarah and Kristin. Those were the people that make these days matter a little more.
(Sarah came in disguise as a black man named Will for some odd reason.)

Bon Jour, Buster...

Leigh is cute. She does very cute things. Buster is her cat. He is very old. Leigh does very cute things to Buster. Except when she pulls out his hair. That is sad and not cute.

Since Buster is old, he gets cold a lot. Since Leigh loves Buster, she tries to make him warmer. Buster used to have a Santa cape that made him think he was hot shit. More like a pimp than Santa. Leigh let someone else use the Santa cape so when Buster got cold the other day, Leigh had to improvise. She found a sock and cut the toe off. She put Buster's head through the new hole and was left with an extra piece of round fabric. Leigh decided to accessorize.

Introducing Monsieur Buster. He feasts on paté and likes to eat cigars. In his younger days he probably drank scotch.

Buster thinks he is very sexy as a Frenchman. But not everyone agrees. Leigh's husband, Nash, had this to say about Buster's new clothes.

"Why'd you make Buster a Jew, Leigh?"

Nash is cute, too. He says very cute things.

(Thanks to Leigh, Nash, Buster, Avo and Kona for letting me shack. I'd like to discuss me moving in permanently.)

Kids Are the Darnedest Things

I've been around babes lately. And yes, while their faces a cherubic and their smiles melt your insides, I have decided that they are demons in disguise. Clever, brilliant, well-disguised demons, but demons nonetheless.

Take the first babe I ever claimed auntie to, Chase Alexander. Chase will be three in December. He already knows all his letters and all types of tractor equipment. He has been to more tractor pulls in his short life than I have in my long one, and no one looks cuter than him in a tobogan. He also knows how to make his self-proclaimed Aunt Amber give in to his reign of terror... by dumping every single one of his toy bins on top of himself, of course. I fall for anything willing to be that naughty.
While on a quick visit to his mom's house (my lifetime partner Heather), I had the chance to play with Chase until his naptime. Granted, playing with him sometimes makes me feel like an idiot since when I pick up a tractor and say, "Go tractor, go," he usually corrects me with, "That's a combine." Just before his nap I told Chase to pick out a book for me to read to him. I'd asked him earlier if he was in school and he'd said yes, so I asked him what he was learning, and he sighed as big a sigh as a three-year-old is capable of and answered, "God." When it was time to pick a book, Chase told me in no uncertain terms that he did not want "the one about God." I found this immensely amusing, but only because I know Heather and John are not religious zealots with the goal of brainwashing their kids. Chase is just a demon, see.

Baby Cole, Chase's 5-month-old brother who I welcomed to the world as soon as he arrived in it was also there for my visit. When I left him he was loose and smooshy, but now he's full of bouncies and smiles and happy. He even had a little angel kiss birthmark on his face, which definitely throws you off when searching for the demon that's sure to surface in time.
By far the most manipulative babe is my blood nephew Benjamin Ace. BAM has managed to get five women hanging on his every gurgle and has successfully interrupted our typically cooperative existence. He has turned my mom, his GG, into a baby hog. He pukes on us, pees on us, and poops on us, and yet we still hang around him inches from his every move and are collectively at his beck and call. He's already turned us into a cult and he can't even speak. Hopefully by the time Shannon and Charles's expectation gets here in May, I'll have found a way to conquer the demons inside. Or I'll have rationalized falling completely under their spell.

Hangin' at the Pumpkin Patch

Betsy turns 19 on October 19, and to celebrate, the dollface wanted to go to a pumpkin patch. Can I just say greatest idea ever? Soaking up the pumpkin orange and the scarlet leaves and the muddy air was just the dose of fall I was craving. We picked the best pumpkins in the patch, Betsy scored a baby pumpkin to put outside her dorm door, and then Daddy went in to pay, as usual. When we got home Betsy admitted that all the years before when Mom and Dad had taken her to the pumpkin patch to pick a pumpkin she never realized they had to pay for the pumpkin. Older and wiser!

On the way home Mom and I picked up some pizza from Pazzo's to really bring home the P-theme that was developing from the day. We got home, argued over who got to hold Ben (who was also celebrating his one-month birthday), stuffed our faces and then capped the meal with pumpkin pie. Betsy landed a black iPod, three jars of pickles, an Amber ring from Amber, and a Chi flat iron. I, sadly and despite numerous attempts, didn't manage to clepto any of her loot.

We knew the party was about to rage out of control when Seth brought out his Math homework and Matt started shouting at his laptop about football. I had a positively perfect Sunday in Lexington, and hope Betsy's 19th is her sweetest year yet. She really is turning into one of the most beautiful women I've ever met.

A Couple of Closet Cases

I don't know what happened. Venus and Ms. Kitty went from being well-adjusted, like-to-be-around-their-parents types and turned into teenagers as soon as we were comfortable enough to call California home. Venus was, admittedly, sort of forced into her alienation at first, since when we were moving in I had to contain her and the quickest, least necessary place was a sizeable closet in the entryway. I had no idea she'd claim that as her room. But as it turns out, that's where she most likes to be, laying on a ducky fleece and rubbing her butt on my boots. It's totally natural to me and Mack, since we've given up hope of having anything well adjusted coming out of our influence, but to visitors, I can only imagine how abusive it must look. The weird thing is, she just likes being in there. Put her outside, she whines. Bring her inside, she runs to the closet. She's allowed to lay on the tile anywhere in the house, but she'd rather give up all that square footage of hard, clay surface for two square feet of carpet. Closet diva.I had reconciled her closet tendencies and gave her complete ownership of them until yesterday. I walked into the garage/storage room to bring some food to her closet cave when I turned around and saw Ms. Kitty adopting a similar behavior pattern. Only Ms. Kitty has claimed the dryer as her private quarters. I guess I can be grateful they're just pets and as such they won't ever be able to take a gun to school or start huffing spray paint in an attempt to drown out the abuse they endured at the hand of their parents. Even so, I'm starting to see a pattern. If Mack ends up shacking in a closet, like Shannon did when I was 11 and we shared a room, I'm committing myself and protecting other lives from whatever it is about me that forces people into dark, cramped places. Sheesh.

Beach Bummin'

The final episode in the tale of Liz's visit. Watch out!

To Do List

This is the list of things I must accomplish Oct. 12-16, while I am back in Kentucky, in no particular order:
-- Kiss my new nephew to death.
-- Squeeze my little sisters into unconsciousness.
-- Have my lips licked off by the Little monster.
-- Stare into my mom's endlessly soulful eyes until she passes out.
-- Sneak into my dad's closet to read all the cute notes and secret pictures he keeps in there that reveal the inner workings of his awesomeness.
-- Somehow finagle the Camry out of the parents so I can have a car to drive around.
-- Walk in the Arboretum with Leigh, Kona and Avo for like six hours.
-- Spend a Saturday at Keeneland enjoying the fall weather and day drinking.
-- Round up my favorite girls, Ruble, Kristin & Sarah (although Sarah will have to be rounded up with the phone), and march our way into our 10-year reunion being even cooler than we were 10 years ago.
-- Close my Central Bank account.
-- Smell Heather's two baby boys in Louisville at some point; do "the craw" to Chase even though he hates it and it probably gives him nightmares.
-- Eat blueberry pancakes made by my parents who still spoil me even though I'm pushing 30.

I'm also heading home for work related items... so I get to be in Lexington and Cincinnati Oct. 16-22, too. During that time, I've got to, in no particular order:
-- Interview 20+ of Kentucky and Cincinnati's most inspiring women (Jen and my mom included!)
-- Keep finagling the car out of the parents so I can drive around.
-- Try not to miss Mack so desperately I become a weepy, desperate glob of sad.
-- Try not to fall apart when it's time to leave all the things I love behind.

The Endorsement Series (Part 5 in a Series)

The British call them biscuits. We call them cookies. My favorite breed is the peanut butter kind, and down the road at Tulley's Coffee Shop they have mega peanut butter cookies with a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup smooshed into the center. Now that's just cruel. Even crueler though is that the last time I went to the grocery store to satisfy my cookie monster tendencies I discovered that every cookie in the cookie aisle was bogged down with the Trans Fats. You know, those indigestible preservative fats that come from shortening and hydrogenated oils that have been banned in other first-world countries. Needless to say, I try to avoid them. Usually it's easy to do, since my diet mostly consists of potato chips, apples, diet 7-Up and the occasional TF-free Payday bar that Mack shares with me, but in the case of cookies, I was lost.

Lost that is, until I turned down the health food aisle and discovered "Pa" Newman and his Newman's Own Organics Champion Chip Cookies. While not the same league of cookie as the sinful Tulley's PB Masterpiece, the Champion holds its own in the small cookie competition. Reminiscent of Famous Amos, Newman's cookies are ingeniously bite-sized so polishing off the bag doesn't take much effort or self-awareness. Plus, they're made with TF-free organic palm fruit oil, so I can die of obesity instead of high blood pressure.

I've always liked Cool Hand Luke's Fig Newman's and a year ago discovered the thrill that is his raspberry vinaigrette dressing, but now with the Trans Fat revolution kicking the carb conflict to the curb, I'm throwing all my money to the Newmans. (Try Pop's Corn -- the ONLY microwave popcorn safe from TF!) Their food is genuine, pure goodness. That the company has given more than $200 million to charities since 1982, well, that's just icing on the cake!

Because You Need a Laugh

Fan. Tast. Ic.

Hollywood Forever

Since entertaining is my forte (duh), I loaded myself into the F150 monster truck and retrieved Liz from her pal Darrylynn for a day in Hollywood. Hollywood is where Betsy offered up her nostril and where Liz and I stumbled upon an afternoon film festival for National Geographic. After one short film that totally sucked about a girl trying to be a horse, we watched two other films, one on a New Zealand woman learning about love from her two Aborigine grandmothers, who hadn't seen a white person until the 1960's, and one about the lower castes of gypsies in India that fill the roles of musicians, blacksmiths, dancers, traders, snakecharmers and all other facets of culture that make India as special as it is. It was one of those beautiful surprises that comes with a big city and a willingness to look at things that might seem totally out of your element.

Afterward, we headed to the Hollywood Forever Cemetery, which my mom and Leiah had seen a documentary on that must have made it 1000 times more interesting that it really was so they emphatically encouraged me to check it out. Turns out, Liz and I are really bad at knowing who the famous people were/are, so we basically walked around the museum and marveled at how many Jews are buried there. We did find some interesting graves though, without a doubt.




On a more personal note, I had a supernatural encounter with a hummingbird that I totally associated with my Grandpa Scott since he always seemed to have a hummingbird buzzing around him whenever we spent time together on the porch at his house.

The quietest part of the whole place was a Buddhist section, which had colorful tile monuments and statues and, thankfully, absolutely no literature on becoming Buddhist. I'd never seen how Buddhists honored their dead, but I really liked what I saw.



We also had run ins with the geese who like to bite butts while we were discovering a grave that felt vaguely familiar to both of us and with a photographer who likes to put aspiring actresses in positions that aren't appropriate for a cemetery and likes to overcharge them for headshots. At least Liz was pretty the whole time.



It was a great day, ending in a card game with tequila consequences and a hookah as the centerpiece.

The Guest List, Page 1

Part of the excitement of moving away is having guests. No one ever flew to Lexington to stay with me, so the only visitors I got, aside from Amy Louise and the nice boys who always escorted her in the hopes that she would love them, were day visitors... usually lured there with the promise of good food and lots to drink. Times have changed, so now when people visit it's for days at a time... oh, and there's nothing in the refrigerator and the only thing to drink besides water or fat free organic milk is sitting in the cooler up at the corner liquor store. Fortunately, my friends have always been understanding of how bad I am at being a friend.

My first guest got here on Wednesday, and I am privileged to have shared her 28th birthday in my new town. Liz, dear elijah, Maples has come to El-A to brighten my life with her beaming smile and to show me my world with a fresh pair of green eyes.

The best part of Liz is how she looks at things, how simple stuff that I write off as dumb or not worth looking at she greets with a hearty laugh and a camera. With Liz the walk down the street is as interesting as the over-anticipated destination, sometimes even better. You never know what's going to catch her eye, what's going to make her snicker, what's going to get her stopping in the middle of the street to pull out her camera and take a picture. You never know what her keen view of the world is going to open up to you.

Her sense of wonder isn't all that makes her my #1 guest. She's also got the most incredible arsenal of knowledge about just about everything. I didn't think anyone could go toe to toe with Mack for the title of Most Knowledgeable in the Universe until the other night at dinner, when Liz had this to share. (Sorry it's so dark, and no, I have no idea what she is talking about since I was in my chip/salsa/salt ritual eating zone out mode.)

It's been great having Liz here, and I'm so proud of her for taking the bus all over town and impressed that the girl has more friends in El-A than I do and I live here. What can I say, she's Elijah, and she's a dear.

Thanks for visiting me, Liz. I love you!

(** Betsy and Seth were my actual first guests, but since they rode out here with me, they were sort of hosts too, so I can't count them until they come back. Just want to make sure the Guest List rules are understood... Up Next: RUBLE in October!!)

All Hail the Chief

I know everyone has seen this, talked about it, picked a side, heightened their hatred and disregard for the other, blah, blah, blah. I saw it and read the transcripts and while simultaneously falling all over again for my naughty, beloved Bill, the first man I ever elected into office, I also fell into disgust over the arrogance and condescending attitude of journalism today.
New rule: NO ONE WITH THE LAST NAME WALLACE IS ALLOWED TO INTERVIEW ANYONE.

Last time I studied journalism, the goal of an interview wasn't to bully someone into your perspective but to tell the story, without opinion and speculation, with simple questions and genuine curiosity. What happened to our media? What's happening to my country, the one I learned optimism and possibility from as a kid, the one that gave me a patriotic feeling at the polls, the one that made me feel like I mattered in this ridiculous world? Is a sly fox really trying to ruin it as I sit here? I think it's time the media had a watchdog.

A Chronic Case of Baby Fever

No, not to have a baby, just to talk about the baby and share pictures of the baby and hear stories about how the baby pooped on my mom and "it squirted out like a fountain." It's all just too adorable. Here's a video of the baby, and his beautiful momma and very gentle daddy.

Way to go Betsy on the footage and Daddy on the compilation. I'd be lost without you!

Criminal Minds

Of all the illegal things Mack and I do on a daily basis, that it was Venus and Ms. Kitty who went to the slammer first is just hilarious.

On Wednesday, as Venus traipsed to the alley's end to take a dump in the neighbor's yard, she was reported to the police, who promptly arrived and picked her up. As they were leaving the notice on our door, they decided to take Ms. Kitty from the porch mat to really drive home the lesson, which was... I'm not really sure.
I think they each did about 20 minutes because the pound is open until 7 on Wednesdays. Otherwise, they would have done more jail time than either of their parents, which is really sad considering their crime was roaming free.

The Pitts Vs. The Messers

At the end of May, I saw the most beautiful infant I've seen in my life. No wonder. It was the spawn of Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt. It was the product of People's Most Beautiful Man and Most Beautiful Woman. It was a critical chapter in the human genome project, a subconscious quest to make the most heavenly creature on Earth.

At the end of September, my mind is changed. I'd admit to bias, since the impetus for my change of heart does have some of my genetic make up, but I'm really not so I'm not admitting to it. Normally I think babies are kind of ugly early on. Their features are too big for their faces and they've always got gooey eyes that I don't trust. Plus, they seem to come with some weird problems like rashes from breast milk splashing on their faces or those bright red birthmarks that, let's face it, aren't exactly soothing. I'll give them credit for two things that make them better than puppies: the way they smell, which makes me want to eat them, and their little tiny hands and feet and fingernails, which are just such perfect miniatures they can't be real. Okay, and I like it that they smile when they have gas.

On his fifth day of life, my little nephew Ben has trumped Shiloh. Eat it, Jolie-Pitts. He is more beautiful at five days than she was at two months, and you can also tell that he is smarter, more thoughtful, has a better sense of humor, understands right and wrong, and will be the most perfect human being on the planet. I'm sure you'll agree:




My Darling Angel Nephew Ben










Poor Trumped Shiloh

The Endorsement Series (Part 4 in a Series)

Sadly, I do not ever stand like this in my panties. Nor do I wear high heels with my bathing suit. However, while Victoria's Secret has failed miserably at capturing realistic poses, they have succeeded immensely in creating the perfect panty. From the Angels collection comes the "feather luxe" bikini. Mind you, there is also a "feather luxe" boyshort, which typically ends up in the same place the "feather luxe" thong starts out, and a "feather luxe" Brazilian, which is a little too exotic for my typical privates. Aside from all the other panty perks of staying out of my butt and not falling apart in the first two wears, these panties come with the bonus feature of looking good on. They've sort of got a couture vintage look, but their tried-and-true cotton is so comfortable I seriously sometimes forget I have panties on. Even to the point where I start to freak out a little before I realize, wait, you have underwear on, you just can't feel them because the engineers of Victoria's Secret have finally produced the greatest pair of panties ever. My favorite part is that the lace around the leg keeps me from getting the thigh bulge that other underwear so flatteringly lend me. At $10 apiece, they ought to feel like a little piece of heaven, and they do.

Introducing Benjamin Ace Messer

He's here. BAM arrived Sept. 15, at 5:28 pm EST, weighing 6 lbs., 11 oz. and stretching to a beautiful 21 inches. Leiah and Ben are doing great. Turns out he looks like Matt, but he did get the Scott stubbornness!

No one on the guesses from March was even close to 9/15, so let's look at times. Here's a recap. Phil said 11:59 pm, Jana said 3:23 am, Heidi said 11:23 am, Leiah said 1:34 pm, I said 3:19 pm and Mom said 4:45 pm. So that makes Mom the winner, and proves once and for all that mothers really do know best.

Today Is B-Day!

After roughly 14 days of morning calls to check on the status of Leiah's pregnancy, today, the day Ben is on his way, finally got here. She's in the hospital as we speak, having contractions in the middle of conversations with her very annoying big sister who wants to jump through the phone and rub her head and get her water and deal with the agony of childbirth from the comfortable distance of a camera lens. She's already been through so much and now she's at the hardest part... and the part with the biggest reward.

Nine months ago Leiah called me to say she was pregnant. I had no idea she was even involved with Matt, an on-again, off-again guy who I didn't exactly think very highly of... for good reason, really... so to find out that she was back with him and to find out that she was pregnant and to find out that she, a waitress without health insurance or the ability to pay her own rent, was going to have the baby sort of blew my mind. It was probably the most volatile situation I've been in with Leiah, really trumping even the times Shannon and I would make horrible, terrifying distorted faces with a see-through nightgown and threaten Leiah with "the guards" if she didn't do what we said. I made comments that shock me even today. I can't believe what I was capable of saying when actually put in a position where I was unmovingly convinced she was making the biggest mistake of her life. From my perspective, I couldn't believe she would put an innocent baby in the position of suffering from the same father loss we shared. We know how bad it feels for parents to split up, for families to completely break apart, for dads to start new lives that don't have a place for anything from their old ones, for your biology to reject you. We know how deeply painful and destructive that can be, and here she was, setting someone else up for that pain. I said what I said to stop that from happening, and I'm forever sorry for saying what I said with such hate and short-sightedness behind it. I'm still glad I posed the questions and scenarios though, if for no other reason than it hopefully made Leiah think about the reality of sloppy sex... that a human being with a life in your hands can come out of it. Leiah was the calmest I've ever seen her in the midst of an emotional situation, and that showed me she was really at peace with her decision. Jennifer, who I will always be thankful for for having the courage to question my reaction with just the right degree of confusion and disdain, and Kristin, who I will always be thankful for for sharing her own experiences to put mine in perspective, reminded me that no matter what my family is the most important thing in my life. That means loving them, supporting them, embracing them, accepting them even when it's harder to love them than to ignore them.

Nine months is such a short time, but these last nine months have felt like years. Leiah has matured into a responsible, grounded, level-headed woman. Matt has shown so much more dimension than I initially gave him credit for. The two of them have committed to Ben by getting engaged, sharing a home and starting a life together for their family. No one knows what the future will bring, but now that Ben is here (or will be in a matter of hours!!) the center of our universe has shifted. I'm so proud of Leiah and Matt for accepting this challenge, I'm so grateful to Leiah for growing my nephew, I'm so nervous and excited and terrified and thrilled at how our family will change with Ben in it. Right now though, I'm so curious to see if he'll have the Scott smirk from the get-go or if that's something that'll show up after he's honed the Scott stubbornness.

Happy B-Day Ben, Leiah and Matt!

West Coast, ya'll

Last weekend, Mack's mom and dad lured us out of our Labor Day loserfest and took us on an impromptu coastal tour. I've driven along California's gorgeous coast before, but only north of San Francisco. Turns out the coast is gorgeous all along it. We went to Hermosa Beach, Redondo Beach, Manhattan Beach and ultimately ended up at Point Vincente Park, which is beautiful and a great lookout point for when the whales migrate in the winter. All in a day's drive.

Nine Down, NONE TO GO!!

Any day now I will be an aunt. I've never been an aunt before. The other day a girl at work asked me if I was an aunt yet, and I had no idea what she was talking about. I thought for sure she was losing her mind or making some reference to the ants that had invaded the Triscuits in the cabinets of the break room... until she pointed out to me that I did have a sister due to have a baby boy any day now. I gotta get used to adding aunt to my title. I've been slow to even start calling Mack my fiance, even though he's really already my husband. I still talk about him like he's my boyfriend sometimes. All these titles to keep up with. Aunt, wife, daughter, sister, friend, senior editor... I guess it's all better than Grandma!!

Come on Benjamin Ace!! We're ready already!! Give us the baby!!

Four Little Fish

This post is dedicated to my dad for two reasons...

1. I have never been in a place where everywhere I go I think, my god, my dad would love this, so hopefully this will make him realize that fact as well.
2. He tries so hard to be a good fisherman every chance he gets, although the fish never, ever cooperate. I think I've finally found a place where even his weak skills will make him feel like a fisherman.

Hermosa Beach Pier, Sept. 4, 2006, Labor Day

Confessions of an 80s Something: Biker Shorts, Not Just for Bikers Anymore

Biker shorts came into my life at about the same time I was going into Maxwell's to read the dirty keychains and Spencer's to look at the cards with fat women in lingerie and really feeling like I was getting away with something. Basically the point in my life where I spent all my time at the mall and all my money on decorative soaps from Crabtree & Evelyn. I was totally rad.

It happened on accident really. I'd been longing for a bout with the bikers for some time, but, since I was a chubby kid, I never had mustered enough courage for them. Sure, I had the courage to drop pennies off the balcony of the food court to determine who below was Jewish (in my defense, I thought it was a legitimate test of faith, like a commandment "Waste not, want not," and not a statement about their stereotyped frugality), but facing the world with lycra sealing my thighs was not something I could do. I opted for leggings.

My mom helped me stay hip to fashion despite my assignment to the Huskies section by pairing my leggings with one of those long, decorative dress shirts. By decorative dress shirts, I mean, random color pairings in a geometrical vomit on a cloak of cotton that went to the mid-thigh. I think you were supposed to use the shirt side-tie clip with these shirts, but I needed the length to cover my chunky butt. Leiah was the queen of the side-tie clip because she's had a great ass since diapers. My premiere shirt was yellow, that god awful yellow that gives you a headache, is usually confined to socks and was born out of the 80's quest for tacky, with black polka dots on it. I was so sexy heads would spin, and I was only 8 years old. Those Jews would certainly skip over the pennies I dropped when they caught a glimpse of me in my new threads.

Or if they caught a glimpse of my first run in with the biker shorts. Having found a fashion that didn't restrict my body anymore, I was waiting outside of the Baskin Robbins counter when a man in his grey hair days came into the mall and stepped into the Baskin Robbins line wearing white biker shorts and no top. It's quite possible he had a top on, but since my young mind couldn't get over the ass hair I could see through his white biker shorts, I failed to remember if he had a shirt on. As he turned to walk toward the ice cream cone pick-up station, I got the frontal. It was my first and closest exposure to male genitalia in my life, and I was horrified. All balled up and lumpy, like a dying rat wadded up and tucked in his crotch. The vision was enough to make me barf, but when he actually set his manhood on the counter while waiting for the girl to give him his cone... gag me with a credit card and put me on lay-away. I backed away, either because my mom really was there telling me he was a pervert and to get away from him or because her good judgment had become a permanent voice in my head.

I retreated to the safety of Maxwell's, but now the keychain sporting "Grody to the Max" had newfound meaning.

Next up... a secret relationship with Strawberry Shortcake.

Confessions of an 80s Something (Part 1 in a Series)

My darling friend Amy sent me a forward today. Normally her forwards feature pictures of hot cowboys or links to bible study classes I must take before the end of the world, but today she really outdid herself. She sent me the following list, and now you're all in for it. I have stories about almost every single one of these things, and since I lack focus in my time of employment, I am going to relieve my memory through story telling inspired by this:

You Know You Grew Up In The 80's or Early 90's If:

1. You've ever ended a sentence with the word SIKE.
2. You watched the Pound Puppies.
3. You can sing the rap to the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air and can do the Carlton
4. Girls wore biker shorts under their skirts and felt stylishly sexy.
5. You yearned to be a member of the Baby-sitters club and tried to start a club of your own.
6. You owned those lil' Strawberry Shortcake pals scented dolls.
7. You know that "WOAH" comes from Joey on Blossom
8. Two words: Hammer Pants
9. If you ever watched "Fraggle Rock"
10. You had plastic streamers on your handle bars... and spokey-dokes or playing cards on your spokes for that incredible sound effect
11. You can sing the entire theme song to "Duck Tales" (Woo ooh!)
12. It was actually worth getting up early on a Saturday to watch cartoons.
13. You wore a ponytail on the side of your head.
14. You saw the original Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles on the big screen..and still know the turtles names.
15. You got super-excited when it was Oregon Trail day in computer class at school.
16. You made your mom buy one of those clips that would hold your shirt in a knot on the side.
17. You played the game "MASH" (Mansion, Apartment, Shelter, House)
18. You wore stonewashed Jordache jean jackets and were proud of it.
19. L.A. Gear....need I say more?
20. You wanted to change your name to "JEM" in Kindergarten. (She's Truly Outrageous.)
21. You remember reading Tales of a fourth grade nothing and all The Ramona books.
22. You know the profound meaning of "WAX ON, WAX OFF"
23. You wanted to be a Goonie.
24. You ever wore fluorescent clothing. (some of us...head-to-toe)
25. You can remember what Michael Jackson looked like before his nose fell off and his cheeks shifted.
26. You have ever pondered why Smurfette was the only female smurf.
27. You took lunch boxes to school... and traded Garbage Pailkids in the schoolyard.
28. You remember the CRAZE, then the BANNING of slap bracelets.
29. You still get the urge to say "NOT" after every sentence.
30. You remember Hypercolor t-shirts.
31. Barbie and the Rockers was your favorite band.
32. You thought She-ra (Princess of Power!) and He-Man should hook up.
33. You thought your childhood friends would never leave because you exchanged handmade friendship bracelets.
34. You ever owned a pair of Jelly-Shoes.
35. After you saw Pee-Wee's Big Adventure you kept saying "I know you are, but what am I?"
36. You remember "I've fallen and I can't get up"
37. You remember going to the skating rink before there were inline skates.
38. You ever got seriously injured on a Slip and Slide.
39. You have ever played with a Skip-It.
40. You had or attended a birthday party at McDonalds.
41. You've gone through this nodding your head in agreement.
42. You remember Popples.
43. Don't worry, be happy
44. You wore like, EIGHT pairs of socks over tights with high top Reeboks.
45. You wore socks scrunched down (and sometimes still do... getting yelled at by younger hip members of the family)
46. You remember boom boxes and walking around with one on your shoulder like you were all that.
47. You remember watching both Gremlins movies.
48. You know what it meant to say "Care Bear Stare!!"
49 You remember watching Rainbow Bright and & My Little Pony Tales
50. You thought Doogie Howser/Samantha Micelli was hot.
51. You remember Alf, the lil furry brown alien from Melmac.
52. You remember New Kids on the Block when they were cool...and don't even flinch when people refer to them as "NKOTB"
53. You knew all the characters names and their life stories on "Saved By The Bell," The ORIGINAL class.
54. You know all the words to Bon Jovi - SHOT THROUGH THE HEART.
55. You just sang those words to yourself.
56. You remember watching Magic vs. Bird.
57. Homemade Levi shorts... (the shorter the better)
58. You remember when mullets were cool!
59. You had a mullet!
60. You still sing "We are the World"
61. You tight rolled your jeans.
62. You owned a bannana clip.
63. You remember "Where's the Beef?"
64. You used to (and probably still do) say "What you talkin' 'bout Willis?"
65. You had big hair and you knew how to use it.
66. You're still singing shot through the heart in your head, aren't you!

Check back tomorrow for a detailed account of my experience with biker shorts. Sexy.