I know we’ve all felt this way.  Don’t lie to me.  Don’t lie to yourself.  It doesn’t mean we love them less, it just means we realize they are really annoying people.

It’s a good thing they’re cute – that’s all I have to say.

Happy Mother’s Day.

The latest Sookie Stackhouse novel came out today.  That’s the 10th in the series.  If you are unfamiliar, these are the novels the wildly successful HBO series, True Blood, is based on.

I’m dying to dig a little cave in the backyard, stock it with some yummy trail mix and iced tea, and hide in there until I’ve read it cover to cover.  Ava is already panting with impatience, waiting for me to give it up, and my mom right after her. 

Anyway – hold tight.  I’ll post something good after my little trip to Bon Temps, LA.

So The Bandit turned five years old today.  I can’t hardly believe it. 

He and I went to the store and picked up the booster seats to switch out with his giant car seat.  I am so thrilled to see that monstrosity go.  I hate the car seats.  But that isn’t the point of this post.

I took the booster out of the box and he asked, “What’s that?”

“It’s your new booster seat just like Sassy’s.”

“I don’t want a booster seat,” he told me, his brow all furrowed up in angst.

“You don’t?  Why?”  I’m flabbergasted.

“Because I love my car seat and it loves me.”

“I thought you’d love the booster.  It’s a big boy seat.” 

“But I love my car seat.”

“Will you try this for me?  Just try it and I think you’ll come around.”

I pulled the giant seat from the car and set it in the driveway next to the car.

“Bye old car seat.” He patted it forlornly.

“Alright, dude, climb in and see what you think.”

He looked up at me, his face most serious.  “I’ll try it but I won’t like it.”

Eventually he came around, but for a while there I thought he was going to take that damn car seat off to college with him.

I have a wine refrigerator in the laundry room.  It sits there and quietly hums, keeping my white and sparkling wine at the optimum temperature.  It is often stacked with baskets of clean laundry or nearly hidden by mounds of dirty piles of it on the floor.  

The reason I mention this is that my husband and I think it might be possessed.  Or perhaps we are haunted by a sommelier.  Either way, it’s odd.

Every time I turn around the light is on.  There is a little switch in the top left corner and no matter how often I put the switch in the off position, by the next time I pass the laundry room, the tinted glow of the light bulb will be illuminated through the glass door.

Now some might suggest that this is The Bandit’s doing.  I’m sure it’s possible.  But that begs the question, “Just exactly how many times a day must that boy go into the laundry room?”  I almost want to set up a nanny-cam to do a accurate accounting.  The boy or the ghost, who ever it is, never messes with the bottles.  There are never bottles missing or new bottles that are unaccounted for.  It’s only the light switch. 

On.  Off.  On.  Off. 

I’ll admit it’s probably the boy, but I find the idea of a haunted sommelier so much more romantic and interesting, don’t you?  I can almost see him dressed in his black suit, white linen towel over his forearm, an impressive leather bound book in his other hand.  He’ll have a Tastevin around his neck and a very gentle and unpretentious French accent.  I’ve decided to name him Guillaume (because Pierre was too cliche).

I don’t know why Guillaume is being punished in the after life.  I can’t imagine it’s very satisfying recommending wines that go with Doritos or beef jerky.

However, I do know that a nice Merlot is the way to go with a Double Chocolate Fudge Cupcake.

Today is Thursday.  That means soccer practice for The Bandit.  Today was also VERY windy.  How windy was it?  It was sooo windy that when I was driving a golf cart at work today, a gust of wind actually stopped it in its tracks!  The golf cart and I just sort of paused there with my foot flat on the accelerator, hesitating, and then the gust died down and we moved forward again.  That’s pretty freakin’ windy.

So after that incident, I called My Honey to see if the practice had been cancelled due to the wind.  He didn’t think so.  I suggested he tie anchors or something to the kid’s feet to keep him on the ground.

So now on the eve of a day off from work, when I should be finishing the scene with Francesca and Thomas at the opera – it’s a very pivotal scene – I’m instead writing inanities to you, eating Godiva chocolate, and watching my lover, Christian Bale, as Batman.  Every time I watch it, I miss Heath.  So as a balm I will watch A Knight’s Tale but then I end up missing him even more.

Many of you have asked when my books will be available.  The answer is I DON’T KNOW and it’s killing me.  There was a hold up when they let my editor go and we had to start from scratch again.  ARRRRRRGGGGG!!!!!  I promise, nay vow, to let you all know the very instant it becomes available.  I assure you that this will be the case.  There is nothing I want more (except Ben & Jerry’s Wavy Gravy ice cream but the snots discontinued it) than for you to be able to buy my books.

So, batten down the hatches, put on fuzzy socks, and tune into Batman.  I’ll just keep writing away over here.  Eventually you’ll get to read something. 

I promise.

I work with a bunch of young men.  Young, young men.  They are all in their early twenties.  Tonight was very slow at work and it was a lovely, balmy evening with a full moon, so I headed outside to do some stuff that needed to be done out there.  Because it was such a fantastic night, I did one of the guys work, too.  No big deal – besides I enjoyed being outside for a while.

When I got back in, I overheard the following: “Jeez, Andrew, you’re gonna let an old lady do your work for you?”

Holy crap!  When in God’s name did I become the “old lady”?  I fear that I many vomit.  It is technically true that I could be his mother – but still. 

My Honey, bless him, offered to go beat him up for me.  I may take him up on it.  He’s pretty tough, for an old guy.

I’m wondering if I’ll be allowed a special dispensation on the horizontal

"No" to horizontal stripes!

stripes on my prison jumpsuit.  If I must wear one, horizontal stripes are completely out of the question.  Vertical will work because they are slimming.  Also, I’m

Orange...bad!

gonna have to say no on the orange, too.  And just to make sure I can do it, I’ve been practicing the shuffley “perp” walk with the manacles.

Why am I planning my prison wardrobe?  Because The Bandit is bound and determined to have me there.  His behavior is another example of how boys and girls are different.  Or at least, how my boy and girl are different.  Sassy never had this phase.  I’m calling it the “Shoplifting Phase”. 

He and I were at the craft store the other day.  He was frustrated because I wouldn’t buy him anything.  I didn’t realize how frustrated he was until I noticed how strangely he was walking.  Upon further investigation I found an entire box of Crayons shoved down his pants. 

And in another example of petty larceny, My Honey discovered he’d used the five-finger discount to obtain a bunch of plastic animals from the party supply store.

Of course, we’ve had all the talks at various intensities and volumes, and he acts contrite – just like all the best sociopaths do.  Nevertheless….

I really, really don’t like horizontal strips.

I am officially a paid author.  Today I received my very first check paying me for words I have written.

(heeheeheehee)

The examiner.com paid me $25.67.  Isn’t that an adorable amount?

Every little bit of validation helps!

I’ll post something there tonight – hop on over and make me another couple of cents, will ya?

I didn’t post on Friday.  I’m sorry about it.  As you know, I try to post something everyday – at least Monday through Friday.  There are some of you that are sorely disappointed when I don’t.  I have an excuse – take it or leave it. 

You remember that I’ve been a single mom this week with My Honey out of town.  It seemed that everywhere I had to go this week, I had to get there driving Mach 10. 

Drop the kids off at school, race to see my dad (who’s at the rehab hospital again), race to work (that’s where things slowed down to turtle speed), then leave work and race across town to get to Sassy before her after school program was over and pick up the Bandit before I had to pay the penalty of 1.00 per minute for being late.  On Thursday, I had to do all the things above PLUS get to soccer practice that was cancelled.  Of course, I never got home to get the message because who has time for that?

By the time Friday came around, I was pooped.  I conned the kids into getting into their pajamas at 7:30 and snuggling in my bed.  I slept for 12 hours.  Shhhhhhhh…..do you hear angels weeping?  It was glorious.  12 splendid hours of sleep. 

Today, I took the kids to the zoo.  We’re zoo members so we go fairly often.  I

A tiger doing an impression of me from Friday night

 thought it would be a great day for the zoo – the weather was warm but not hot.  Instead, it was an interesting day at the zoo.  The polor bears and monkies were all AWOL.  An ostrich was terrorizing the zebras, however the baby zebra was having a fantastic time running through the sprinklers.  A South American bear was yanking the bushes and trees into his enclosure by sticking his hairy arm as far out of the bars as possible and grasping at anything he could reach.

But the most interesting thing of all, and a topic that has provided me hours of enjoyment explaining to my 5 & 7 year old, was the very randy giraffe that simply would not leave the lady giraffe alone.  I am far from being a prude (please note my genre of choice) but I’d really rather not go into the ENORMOUS implement dangling between his legs, if you know what I mean.  No matter where she wandered, he was right behind.  Literally. 

I love the zoo and all, but sometimes I’d really wish they’d make them wear pants.

Unfortunately, the job I want would send me to work in my pajamas or oldest sweat pants – the REALLY comfortable ones.