I copied this from Michelle over at smoochdog who copied it from her friend, Janet and so forth...

Anyway...

I liked this quiz and I somehow feel happy about the resulting analysis which basically states that I'm a grounded, down-to-earth, yet sophisticated gal. Nothing like a "complimentary" quiz!


    

Saturday night. Ah, Saturday night...

A woman I met from the church costume crew is getting married next week, but she is not a "typical" bride. This is her first marriage - and she is 53 years old!

Although I'm not "tight" with her I thought it was a shame that no one planned a shower or anything else special. So as a kindness,  I planned and executed a bachelorette party for her at the cantina of a local Mexican restaurant. They have karaoke on  Saturday night (built-in entertainment) and delicious margaritas so I sent out a broadcast email to all the ladies from the show cast and crew. Thankfully 4 ladies let me know they were coming, which, to be honest, seems like just the right amount to have a good time at a bar.

I sat alone at our reserved table with a gift bag printed with lots of nude studly dudes all over it, for what seemed an eternity. Thankfully after 25 minutes the gals began to show up and the party was underway. We had the requisite silly hat and a feather boa for the bachelorette, and I brought a gift bag filled with assorted "flavors" of lubricants and massage oils, and an XXL black lace thong - which is probably close to her actual size. Eeeeeewwwww! Anyway...

I started in with the margaritas while everyone else tamely sipped their beers. Thanks to my dear friend, Jose Cuervo, I played the role of "misbehavin' lady" to keep everyones' spirits high. And yet  the "church gals" were an even more raunchy bunch (in a "good way" if there is such a thing) WITHOUT liquor so needless to say, a good time was had by all.

As karaoke commenced, I got up to perform "Wanted Dead or Alive" by Bon Jovi, when some guys ahead of me handed the dj their selection: the same song! I balked. Chicago guy (think Bears Superfan but in a Cubs jersey)#1 says, "Ok, do you want to challenge?"

My druken bragadocio kicked in. "I'm from the East Coast, man. Jersey is in my blood. Hell, YEAH, I want to challenge!"

No doubt about it, I kicked major ass on MY rendition (or at least my drunken ears thought so.)

Later in the evening, one fellow who had been performing various 60's country-pop classics asked, "What's going on, are you having some sort of party?"

I explained the situation and he then got up, and asked the bride-to-be to sit up on stage with him. He began to seranade her with "Can't Help Falling In Love With You" by Elvis. And then, in the sweetest gesture I've seen in a bar in many years, EVERY GUY in the joint got up and joined in, the group crooning to her as if she were the belle of the ball. It was amazing.

Later, the country-pop guy was looking over the song list with me and began stroking my back. I was buzzed enough not to care and yet sober enough to inch away so as to get my point across without being rude.

The next day, I had a very similar "close talking"/shoulder rubbing experience, but with a fellow at Church so in a way it was even more inappropriate! Yet again I scooted away subtly to escape the flirtation. Finally, that evening, despite heaps of laundry to fold, my husband would NOT leave me alone! (If you know what I mean...)

It dawned on me this morning when I had a pain on my side and looked over my calendar that I must be ovulating! Isn't that ever so strange?! I guess its true - that all mammals "smell" a female "in heat" or whatever. Ha! Sorry guys, these eggs have flown the coop!

Despite a quasi-career in the world of "alternative" music, I have always loved the genre of 50's and 60's cocktail jazz. There is something tittillating to me about those uptempo and occasionaly steamy tunes that exude a level of sexiness in direct correlation to the number martinis or tom collins' imbibed through the evening.

When I'm in a "lounge" situation in Philly or Atlantic City, inevitably the crooner on deck is Frank Sinatra, mixed on occassion with some Dino for campy variety. It is not often that the foxy females of that era get their equal time on the restaurant or bar sound system.

Imagine my surprise and thrill of showing up to make a Communion-to-the-homebound housecall on Thursday, only to open the door and hear what sounded like a bachelor party in the basement. I didn't see him dancing, but the octogenarian I was visiting was jamming out to arguably one of the most hip songstresses of the 60's, Ms. Della Reese.

Apparently he was so engrossed in the moment that he didn't hear me come in. I asked, "Were you playing a record?" He noted that yes, awhile back he was at a record sale and saw the hard-to-find album and snatched it up for his collection immediately.

I was stunned. And impressed. And mad at myself for not considering that despite an aging body and declining health, a person could be a youthful hep-cat underneath the wrinkles and bald head.

After we spent time time praying and chatting, I left his home and offered my heartfelt valediction, "Rock on!"

I have never hidden my tendency toward boy-craziness Crushes through the years have been both diverse and bizarre. And yet latety a mysterious "stranger" seems to visit  in my dreams every now and then. He's not tall, or possessing movie-star looks but he does have dark hair - somewhere between straight and wavy. The best I can describe him is like a young Robert DeNiro, but with a naive quality that eminates through his eyes. All I can ever recall of this dream-dude is a warm, caring smile, and soft, gentle hands.

Tonight as I was driving my daughter home from school we were chatting about boys, and who she thinks is cute. It made me shudder for a moment when she said, "Well I don't know exactly who, but in my mind's eye he has dark hair. Not curly like dad's but dark."

Weird.

Even though our tiny cottage is already at capacity for furry family members, we took in a needy "orphan" - a castoff from a non-feline-loving neighbor. He was in terrible shape when we got him but after 10 days of convalescing in our warm home, with plenty of delicious kibble and home-made "kitten glop" available to him 'round the clock, our new guy has grown into and has started USING those uncut little fuzzy dice on his backend. Since I am not fond of cat urine sprayed about my home like some skunky version of Febreze, I took him to the vet today to be transformed via scalpel and anethesia into a darling, cuddly, neutered lil' dude.

He is a black cat who came to us in the nick of time, so it seemed. Thus, we named him Lucky.

I'll post a pic once his new collar arrives - it has shamrocks on it - the only shamrocks he's going to have from now on!!!

After 5:30 Mass last night, hubby treated the family to dinner at one of our fave local "upscale" restaurants.

I was in the mood for "residual sugar" with my salad, so I tried a glass of the 2005 Jekel Riesling (Moterrrey, CA). My uninformed, inarticulate, but enthusiastic review:  Yeah, baby, YEAH!

I'm going out today to nab a few bottles of it for my private stash.

We got more snow and slush today and over the weekend. And my child contracted yet another school-borne virus. This one causes fever and headaches. Apparently its all over the neighborhood. The fever over 102 and headache combo made me wary of meningitis so I called the pediatrician, who noted that they are "seeing alot of this right now" and all she can do is rest, take children's tylenol, and drink fluids. She seems ok except that her cheeks are flushed from the fever and she's a bit lethargic. Hopefully this will pass soon - as well as this wintry weather.

In Chicago, the Tuesday before Lent is known as "Paczki Day" (pronounced Poonshkie) - named for a Polish filled-donut of the same name. If Homer Simpson lived in Chicago (or other enclave of Polish culture) you can imagine him fantasize, "mmmmm, paczki."

Despite the local hype and tradition surrounding these bakery treats, jelly-or custard-filled donuts aren't my fave.

Instead of decadent pastries, my family will indulge in homemade margaritas, and a menu of various fried foods and unreal "custard" (really, incredible semi-soft ice cream - thicker than DQ) with assorted sundae toppings from CULVERS.

Tomorrow begins fasting and abstainence for Ash Wednesday and 6 weeks of no meat on Friday - which I love because I can put together a really easy meal of frozen cheese pizza or grilled cheese sandwiches & tomato soup and no one complains because it's Lent! Thank you, Jesus, for a pious excuse to be lazy in the kitchen!

Hubby shocked me by stating last night, "I'm giving up alcohol for lent." Now, this is a guy who used to be a professional beer critic, as well as a semi-professional beer consumer! After his proclamation, he paused, waiting for me to offer my lenten sacrifice.

"Um, I guess I could give up sex," I offered with a smile.

He replied with a wide grin, "Haven't you already?"

Last night I told my Hallmark-Holiday-challenged husband, "Happy V Day!"

He looked at me and asked, quizzically, "Vagina day?!"

I'm just now getting over a stomach virus.

The worst part now is the recurrent stomach cramping. Luckily the excrement-related symptoms seem to have passed (no pun intended.)

Ain't nuthin' like a diet of dry toast and gatorade...