Yesterday I happened to run into my funny friend, Father Steve. We got to chatting and were talking about unfortunate coincidences of dates. For example, I noted that on my birthday I got a "card" from my doctor that said, "Its your anniversary - it's time for a colonoscopy!"

He noted that, "Yeah, one lady [presumably another parishioner] was complaining to me, 'It's my birthday and I got my period.' "

(insert sound of needle scratching across a record.)

I have zero issues with talk of bodily functions (as evidenced by the lurid tales of my GI tract)  but somehow, hearing a man referring to a complaint about Aunt Flo  BOTHERED me. I was aghast. Ok, granted, I brought up the colonoscopy joke but still...b*tching about periods is, to me, for the exclusive realm of women.

Secondly, I'm sure the woman he referred to (although not by name) wouldn't appreciate her cycles being broadcast to other parishioners.

I know guys complain ABOUT us, as in, "Ugh, she's being a real pain in the a** 'cause she's on her period."

But not try to empathize. Eww, again, that is just, somehow bothersome, and I'm not exactly sure why.

But then, this particular gent has been known to try to empathize with us women before (click and scroll to May 18th 2007 entry).

This stream of thought occurred to me as I was commenting on another blogger's entry today, as well as reading a recent entry from his wife.

My daughter has been exposed to a LOT of cussing/swearing/and general rated-R words in her lifetime. Most of them have been perpetrated by ME. Whoops. But, as I stated above, context is everything.

I don't say, "You are a piece of sh*t!"

I say, "Awww sh*t!"

I don't say, "Damn you, child!"

I say, "Awww dammit!"

I don't say, "I'm going to go f*** your dad right now, so you need to go in the other room and shut your door."

I say, "Awww F***!"

I have a short fuse and often the firecrackers that erupt are expletives directed at no one or nothing in particular. Just venting.

Yeah, I am  the same "religious" gal who goes to Mass each week, sometimes more often, takes scripture classes, and visits invalids and people in nursing homes to pray. I have actually tried to confess this bad habit a few times, and the priest dismisses it as no big thing. To be honest, I've heard some salty language, again in the same "venting" type of context, from my pastor! We're all human.

Along those lines, a few months ago, on a rainy Saturday afternoon, I flipped through our DVD selections and realized I had a GREAT choice for my 8-year old and I to watch together. The last time I saw it was on network tv, so I recall there was some mild language use, based on the (obvious) dubs like "Shoot!"

I had no recollection of something like 3 F's and 1 M-F in the movie. But, again, each was literally just a "venting" curse, not a directed, or used-in-the-context-of-its meaning naughty word. The only truly worrisome line was one guy saying, "I once knew a hooker named Minnie Mizzola." But it went right over her head.

After I heard the first "F" I peeked at the box. Whoops! It was rated R!!! But we were already pretty far into the film and my daughter was howling with delight at the car chase scenes, explosions, and great musical numbers. And of course there is NO blood, no sex; just lots of memorable lines and locations, especially to a Chicago-born kid like her. In fact, I think The Blues Brothers should be required viewing for all Chicagoland residents at some point in their lives.

Once the film ended, my daughter looked at me and exclaimed, "THAT WAS THE BEST MOVIE EVER!!!!!"

Now she's busy quoting Jake, Elwood and the gang to all of her friends every chance she gets (with no swears, of course.)

I just have to think up a good story to explain to other parents why their kids are begging to see a 1980's rated-R movie. Dammit!

A few weeks ago, my daughter brought home a packet of info from the PTA. It explains an annual service, sponsored by the PTA, that is provided for parents by a third party. This third party assembles into a kit all of the required school supplies for a student in a given grade (supply lists vary per year.) When the student arrives on the first day of school, if he/she bought (or, that is, his/her parent bought) a kit, it is sitting on their desk in their classroom.

I have been using this service the past few years because it is quite convenient and always seemed like a bargain. It was usually around $20 or so for all of the supplies, plus they throw in some personalized stickers, envelopes for lunch money, etc.

This year, as I browsed the list for third graders, I read the price: $40.72!!!!

WTF?

Are these kids getting Mont Blanc crayons? Cross pen & Pencil sets?

I'll probably write the check anyway, so as to avoid the lines and disappointment of sold-out items at my local Office Depot.

I am pleased to report that the contractor's bid on our recreational project was entirely out-of-control outrageous, more than double what we thought we might pay. I am RELIEVED that our potential project is off the docket.

Now, next week, another contractor who gave us a very REASONABLE bid is doing work on our Illinois property. After 10 years of living here, we are finally installing...

...an asphalt driveway!

Um, yeah, we've had a gravel drive all that time, which was fine until this recent extended winter when the excessive precipiation turned what was compressed stone into grey clay/mud - or rather, all of the mud and gravel dust oozed up to the top and of course made a huge mess when anyone walked into the house. Also, our improvise slab of walkway into the house literally cracked under pressure - from the insane wintry conditions it endured this year. So we are putting in nice, tidy blacktop from the apron to the door.

I need to remind my husband that we *still* need to get a snowblower to CLEAR our lovely new drive (which is 100 ft long - kind of tough to shovel that much!) when we get pummeled again next winter. It sucks to think about snowblowers in May...but per Abby's recent post, you never know when the snow will surprise you.

Today I served 1/2 of my sentence to  traffic safety school for that offense awhile back where I was speeding while driving holy communion to an invalid.

Anyway...

I wish I could have taken mug shots of each classmate and then posted comments about them.

I think the best moment was when we had a discussion of the senses we use to drive safely.

The instructor called on a fellow named Ken who replied, "Well, vision, of course."

"Very good," said the instructor. "What other senses are important for driving?"

He called on a young blonde woman named Laura to answer.

"Um, smell?" she replied.

I am SO glad I share the road with these people. *sigh*

This past weekend, my family went up to the cabin as a group for the first time this season. It was wonderful.

However...

We are thinking of diving into a project (big clue there) that would enhance the recreational nature of the property...and yet, as much as I want it, I really have a nagging apprehension about it in the back of my mind. I will have to see what the contractor comes back with as far as an estimate. I'm worried that it will be AFFORDABLE and thus just my "intuitive" cloudiness will be the reason we halt the endeavor.

I'm looking for clarity...and waiting for an email from the contractor that hopefully will provide it.

I was browsing political commentaries today, when I happened upon this 2005 pic of columnist Arianna Huffington. Is it me, or should she have worn a more stagelight-proof bra?? And possibly better deodorant? Maybe this has already been discussed  years ago across internetland, but its new to me, so I'm going to dish about it.

You can see nipple!  Luckily for her, she has a slamming figure, so she can get away with it. What appears to be a pit-stain might just be a shadow, but weigh in with your own comments.

Today I went shopping for summer clothes...and it bordered on feeling like a chore.

I was so glad that my husband was home from work today (he took me out for a long lunch for my birthday) so that he could watch the kiddo while I went up the road to a local shopping center. There is a larger chain store, a sort of discount yet "upscale" department store that I have never browsed and so I ventured there and was pleased with the selection and the prices. However, I was not pleased with how many of the items looked ON me once I got into the dressing room.

*sigh*

I suppose the good part of this, is that I end up buying only things that truly fit well, are comfortable, and make me feel confident. I have gotten quite fussy over the years in regards to fit and flattery of any given clothing item. As noted, the upside to the challenege of finding anything I like is that it keeps me on budget. The downside is that I find myself washing the same few items I do like over and over again so that I'll have SOMETHING to cover me to leave the house!

Add to my conundrum that I have figure flaws (as does virtually everyone) and I'm short (5'2") so many items are often out of proportion and the amont of tailoring that clothes off-the-rack need gets to be frustrating. I can hem pants (which I do.) I've even put darts into a pair of jeans that gapped in the waist. I have stitched closed some suplice necklines that were too generous in the cleavage department.

But I draw the line at hemming T-shirts. Yeah, tees. I tried this once on some modal tunic tees that were so long on me, they looked like nightgowns. The result was sloppy. Luckily they were inexpensive to begin with, so I didn't mind the "experiment."

So many cute tops that have wonderful "strategic" neck/waistline embellishments or "gimmicks" like knots, pleats, pintucks, etc, so as to camoflage the tummy area...but every single one I tried on today was so LONG. I also found ZERO tank tops with any kind cut that flattered. And can I just say: enough with the cropped cutesty-retro swing jackets already!!!



Suprisingly, I did find some shorts that fit nicely, although, as I was trying them on, the communicated a very important message to me: start using self-tanning lotion STAT!!!!

Since my supply of stealthily-obtained IBS meds has run out again, I thought I'd try once again to do without. My stomach has become increasingly bloated, my lower GI tract is cramping/siezing up again and none of my other "remedy" options seem to work. However, I was still feeling a bit uneasy about obtaining the necessary meds for wellness through the overseas pharmacy I have used in the past. Not that I have had problems with the company - their service has been stellar. I just question the morality of obtaining this medication (even though my doc says its totally legit) through the loophole of an overseas supplier (the particular med has been suspended for sales in the US indefinately.)

At mass yesterday, I sat in the pew, my lower GI feeling full and painful. I prayed after communion for some direction. Then they announced our recessional hymn: "Go."

I turned to my husband and whispered, "I think that must be the theme song for people with IBS!" As in , "I wish I could just GO! (me before meds)" "Ooh, I feel better 'cause I gotta GO.(me on meds)" "Oh dear, I better find a bathroom quick cause I gotta REALLy GO! (people with the OTHER form of IBS)"

To me, that unusual hymn selection was a pretty clear validation. I ordered the meds after we got home!

The reception was well-attended but as I guessed: no little cups of wine :( It was a district-wide show, ad we have a rather large district (7 elemenatry and 2 middle schools), so this was a neat honor for her.

Here is the kiddo posing beneath her piece, which is the Picasso-esque number that was done in cray-pas AND multiple pieces of paper. It is in the uppermost left corner on the brown background  as you are looking at it.