NEW RELEASES
Has never heard the words, Don’t Panic
Our trip to Disneyland is still seven weeks away. Seven long, long weeks. That has not stopped The Bandit from hauling a suitcase out of the hall closet and dumping all his clothes in it.
He was trying to get me to help him pack last night. At this point, I’m just hoping he’s still alive to go at all.
Yesterday, when My Honey and the kids got home from school and work, the boy asked if he could have a snack. His father asked him to define a snack. They agreed on some SmartFood popcorn and my husband went off to take a shower.
When he walked back into the living room, the boy had eaten ALL the Smartfood, a half carton of blackberries, a package of PopTarts – and the piece de resistance – an ice cream sandwich the boy threw behind the couch so he wouldn’t get caught. He actually threw a 1/2 eaten ice cream sandwich behind the couch.
Behind the couch. Cause that seems like the best possible solution, huh? I worry that the boy isn’t good in an emergency.
When confronted he denied it, of course, even though My Honey actually SAW him do it.
I hope he lasts the next seven weeks. He’s finally tall enough to ride the big rides.
This, my friends, is why we need a cat at work
I’m back at work today, gimping around like I’m 97 years old. Although, it is fun to talk about in front of Ava because she gets all nauseous.
On Tuesdays I work the late shift at work. Yes, Bank of No Forks has a late shift. It is exactly as ridiculous as you think it is. The late shift equates to 11-8pm, but we all voted and we come in at 12pm and don’t take a lunch. I love the coming in late part because I get up with the kids and get them ready for school. I actually drive them there in my pajamas. Yes, I’m that mom. The minute I get home, I throw my keys on the bench and walk directly back to bed. I do not pass go. I do not collect $200. I do not talk to the cat. I literally fall back into bed and get up again around 10:45. It’s beautiful.
The late shift is great when you’re me because the phone rings exactly zero times from 6-8 and there are no customers either. That means I can get tons of work done on my manuscripts or whatever other writery stuff needs to get done.
Except today.
People from corporate have been here all week and will be again tomorrow. That means no cat. It also means I can’t unpack my personal computer to work on stuff here either.
I thought there’d be no problem though once he left. Surely, the man would leave at 5 o’clock like a normal corporate person, right? Yeah, no. Ava left. I’d like that noted. It wasn’t even 5:30 when she sprinted for the door. Ava here: in my defense, I had to run to a pharmacy that was closing by 6:00PM and I really thought the corporate person would go running out the second I left the parking lot – corporate people are like that. Oh, and it was actually 5:34PM when I left.
At least he finally stopped talking to me. That was AWFUL. I make it a point to avoid corporate people like they have leprosy. I’m not a suck up and can never keep my mouth shut when things bother me and, believe me, there are bountiful things for me to complain about at Bank of No Forks. Ava again: the corporate person mentioned a restaurant he was planning on eating at based on a friend’s recommendation. The restaurant used to be fine but has gone seriously down hill in recent years. Amy mentioned this to the corporate person and he didnt seem to care and insisted he was going with his friend’s recommendation. Amy said “Fine, eat there.” The look on her face said “You’re an idiot.”
There is no way I can get my own laptop open on my desk without him noticing. For Zeus’s sake I couldn’t even read the paper today.
I’d like it noted that at the writing of this blog, it’s 7:44 and he’s still here. Sitting directly across from me. He’s not even on the phone, just working on his computer like he can’t do that in the hotel.
I’m telling you that I’m leaving at 8PM on the dot. I will turn the lights off and lock the door even if his ass is still sitting at that desk. He may have to wash up in the kitchen and pee in the sink cause I’m the only one with a key.
Ava: this entire two hours consisted of Amy texting me every five minutes to let me know he was s t i l l there. Thank goodness she doesn’t carry . . .
ARRRRGGGGGGG!
This little piggy . . .
Amylynn is having a foot issue. It’s been so bad, she went to the doctor to complain about it. She was immediately sent out for x-rays. The x-rays were immediately sent to the podiatrist. Amylynn dutifully made an appointment with the 95 year old nurse there, who kept saying “Oh Dear” every time Amylynn tried to give her information to make the appointment. ***Note from Amylynn – my head finally exploded and I faxed her a copy of my insurance card because we’d already been on the phone for 15 minutes – to make an appointment, for Zeus’s sake. It only got worse. I showed up with the X-rays. She took them and said, “Oh, X-rays” then promptly lost them on the five second journey from the lobby to the examination room, then professed to have no idea what I was talking about. Then, while I was reading a magazine with my foot up in the air, she kept sneaking into the room and reading the magazine over my shoulder. Weird. And annoying. Mostly annoying. She kept asking me what the doctor was going to do. How the hell should I know? Honest to God, it was mind boggling.
Anyway, today was the day. Amylynn was kind enough to text me a picture of the 95 year old so I could laugh. Things didn’t go well right from the start. First, she had a fever of 100.4. Back story: Amylynn asked me to go with her. (Full disclosure – she generally goes with me on all of my appointments because she’s a great sister unlike me.) I refused because IT’S A DOCTORS OFFICE for god’s sake and we all know I don’t visit doctor’s offices because sick people go there. I actually almost said yes because she almost had me convinced that sick people don’t go to foot doctors. Only people with non-contagious foot ailments go to foot doctors – she insisted. Fever? I guess sick people go to the foot doctor after all Amylynn! And clearly, you sat next to one of them . . . ***Amylynn again – I have no idea why I had a fever. None at all. I DO NOT have Foot and Mouth disease.
I texted her – Ask the doctor about all of the loose feet that keep showing up in the lakes in Canada, I’ll bet he knows something.
Next, she comes back to the office with her foot all wrapped up with plaster and tells us the horrifying story of a needle in her foot and how the
That little ghosty thing is causing RIDICULOUS pain.
doctor said when the shot wore off she’d want to lie on the floor crying and she should just go with it. ***Guess who. That is indeed what he said. He was very funny for a 97 year old podiatrist. While he was stabbing my foot with the 12 inch needle he strongly suggested that I breathe. When I asked how come my left foot didn’t hurt but it’s X-ray was just as bad he shushed me and whispered that I shouldn’t say things like that out loud because the universe can hear me. He’s my kind of doctor.
Just the thought made me nauseous, really. The only thing that got me through that moment was Amy saying the doctor wants her to wear orthopedic shoes for, like, the rest of her life! That made me laugh. Amy has a shoe fascination and some very cute footwear. I immediately jumped on the internet to see what was available and then laughed some more – Amylynn is not ever going to wear any of those shoes, ever.
In the end, I just made her go home early because I’m not good with crying people and I thought it best that she lay on the floor at home when the pain started so that her lovely husband could deal with that instead of me. ***One more – I came home with a sorta casty thing on my foot I have to leave on for a week. Between it and the SHOT of DEATH, I’m a very unhappy camper.
Sadly, I don’t think she ever did ask the doctor about Canada . . . ***Me again – I did ask him. He looked at me weird and then refused to prescribe pain meds. Thanks a lot, Ava.
Wow! I think he’s really thought about this, huh?
We just booked our summer Disneyland vacation. Let that be the theme for today.
March 15
Spring is here. Tra la la la. We do love us some spring because we hate being cold and spring in the desert is 90 degrees. Oddly, spring seems to make us a bit cranky, though. Can you blame us? Honestly, how many times a day can we be expected to tolerate being told we can’t have something before we just turn mean. “No, you cannot have the mountain lion cub” or “No, stop touching that bear cub” or “No,stop kissing the baby elephant” or “Put that baby panda down.” It’s almost like our husbands don’t even want us to be happy.
guess which is the fake one
Fortunately, funny stuff happens all the time. Need proof? Here you go.
1. Father phony. As you’ve probably already learned, they elected a pope in record time. Next, we thought we’d have the Cardinals descend on Congress. Let’s have them take a look at the sequester nonsense. That’s not the funny part. What was funny was the guy who showed up at the Vatican wearing a black fedora, a too short black choir robe, and a bright purple winter scarf and pretended to be a delegate. He got really far, milling around with the real priests 
and having his picture taken before someone checked his ID. We have proof this was not us. First of all, we’d never wear a choir robe that was too short. Second, we’ve never been able to pull off a prank of this magnitude without giggling.
2. Advice column letters. We’ve shared some of these with you before, but this one is a classic. Prepare yourself. This was sent to a career advice column. I just turned 31, and I’m having a difficult time finding a career path. My mom says I should look into nursing, but I can’t see myself being a nurse. Another idea my mom presented is becoming a mechanic. I like cars, but I’d rather drive them than fix them. My true dream is to be an actor. But the entertainment 
industry is very competitive, and my folks suggest that I have a backup plan. My mom told me that if I don’t engage in something soon, then I have to move you. I could use some advise. – Tyler. Every time we try to address this letter, we become damn near hysterical with laughter. All we can say with any coherent clarity is, “Are you shitting me?”
3. Princess Lilian. Nothing funny here but we’re including it because of the romance! This adorable lady died and we just learned of her and her love story in her obituary. It’s a lovely, lovely story – possibly better even than King Edward and Wallis Simpson. She met Swedish Prince Bertil in 1943 and they fell in love. But just like Wallis Simpson, she was divorced making a wedding impossible. Nevertheless, they dedicated their lives to each other. Finally, after 33 years together they 
were allowed to marry and were together until 1997 when Prince Pertil died. Apparently, the Swedes were adoring of their princess and she was a funny, intelligent woman. Sigh.
4. The fellows at our mailbox. The Quill Sisters have a postal box at a UPS store. We adore those guys. They always know who we are when we come in. In fact, they always yell, “Hey! It’s number #188.” It’s so rare to get decent customer service anymore, and the fact that they are always nice is a big deal. Also, they don’t back away and cast looks of horror at us when we come in with the Amy and Ava Show.
5. Amylynn’s foot. She’s been gimping along for weeks now, complaining about her foot. Her doc sent her for X-rays and we thought we’d share. These are life size. She has ridiculously small feet. It might explain why she’s falling down all the time.
If you call Bank of No Forks and only Australians answer the phone you’ll know why
We went out to dinner last night. Nowhere special, just the world’s loudest restaurant. You know the kind – there’s sixty-five television screens AND piped in music AND five thousand people all talking at once. I like those places when you’re with your kids cause no one can hear you beating them in the booth.
I must have been in a bit of a mood – although I hadn’t felt that way before I walked into the place. The hostess however made me want to beat her down. I don’t know when customer service went out the window, but some bitches need slapping.
We were finally shown to a table and our waiter showed up promptly. He seemed a perfectly nice fellow when he introduced himself and took our drink orders with a soft Southern accent.
Our drinks came quickly as did salads and mozzarella sticks. Oddly, there seemed to be less of a Southern accent and more of a mid-Western one. I looked to My Honey, but he didn’t seem to notice anything odd.
Then came our dinners. Our waiter dropped them off and chatted us up – with an outrageous Australian accent.
Later, when Sassy sent her ranch dressing back due to a stray hair, he was very clearly unaccented in any way.
WTF? I pointed this out to my family who joined forces with me to see how many reasons we could make him come talk to us. Of course, I could have just asked him what the deal was but what would have been the fun in that? Isn’t is always much more fun to make up a story?
Do waiters get bored?Is he an aspiring actor? Is he able to soup up his tips by adopting accents? I can dig that concept, but it seemed like it would have been easier to keep the same accent per table. Or maybe per night. Like Wednesday could be Australian day. Tuesday could be Tennessee Williams day.
I don’t know. What do you guys think? What’s his deal?
Tra la la la la. Where are the spring lambs? We’d like a lamb.
Let it be noted that I washed out the Tupperware bowl
It’s so fabulous to have Jojo Kitty back at the office. While he was gone we all got so desperate we adopted a lizard one of the girls named Henry. Yes, Henry the Lizard. Don’t make fun of us – you don’t know how awful it was without the cat.
Now that Jojo is back, I did express some concern for the health and well being of dear Henry. Even though Jojo is a super-pampered indoor kitty, he’s a vicious hunting machine. His DNA is readily apparent the minute you see him stalking something.
Today it was Henry.
The poor cat was so exhausted he was barely able to beg during dinner. He didn’t nap all day long – he was too busy being obsessed over hunting that poor reptile. I spied Henry several times throughout the day as he darted under filing cabinets and behind desks. I often heard evidence of his movements from the squealing from my officemates. I’m 100% certain that in the beginning of the day his tail was longer than it was by the end of the day.
I finally couldn’t take the torture. Despite the shrieking from the rest of the ladies of the office, I managed to nab him with a Tupperware bowl and a piece of copier paper. I turned him loose in the sunny gravel of our front landscaping and exhorted him to find a nice girl lizard and heartily reproduce.
I was then glared at by Joe for the rest of the afternoon. It’s a cruel world, cat of mine.
Thoughts for today
Source: someecards.com via Alisa on Pinterest
Source: someecards.com via Alisa on Pinterest
Source: someecards.com via Alisa on Pinterest
I did not get pneumonia or frost bite, but I was worried there for a while
The Tucson Festival of Books was this weekend and we had a wonderful time.
Mostly.
Except for when we were freezing to death and wet and our feet hurt and we were hungry and lonely because our Sister abandoned us for a warm, dry seminar.
The night before we all went out to dinner and had a fabulous time with old friends and introduced a few more the the Amy & Ava Show. That’s really something you need to be prepared for. I’ll tell you one thing that was interesting – this time Ava led the show. I will say it was fun to set back and feed her lines and be the straight man for a change.
Later that night, I destroyed my closet looking for things to wear since I’d be signing books and participating on a workshop panel about Comedy in Romance. I couldn’t get Ava on the phone so I pestered my friend Theresa. We finally managed to come up with something Theresa thought would be warm enough for me and still be cute and comfortable – jeans, a burgundy tank and a cardigan.
What I should have been dressing for was survival. It was so cold and miserable – I can’t imagine a worse setting for trying to sell books. Every time I got someone in front of me, I was trying to sell them on me and my book through chattering teeth. 90% of the time we were cowering in a huddle for warmth with our books under plastic sheeting. At one point, some Festival support guys came around with chips and water and I asked them if they had any fire wood in their wheelbarrow. We had plenty of water dripping on us from the tent seams. What we didn’t have was warmth.
Still – Sunday was gorgeous. Ava petted every single dog at the Festival – and there were plenty. Some puppies even got kisses on the nose. One guy actually admitted that he was concerned she might try to steal his dog.
Anything was possible.
In the spirit of writing and absurdity – let me share the Google doodle from this weekend. Happy Birthday Douglas Adams – we’ll not panic.
