Monthly Archives: January 2012
I’m constantly being reminded how boring my childhood was, especially in comparison to my daughter’s. It’s no wonder I spent endless hours in front of the tube watching Patty Duke re-runs.
Pepto-Bismo pink strawberry smoothie was gushing from the plastic pitcher I had just drop like oil from the Exxon Valdez. In a nanosecond I was catapulted from an ordinary mom doing a good deed to a female version of Captain Hazelwood. Not prone to drink before 3:00, how did I create this mess?
A month previously I allowed my daughter Savannah to strong-arm me into doing a cooking demonstration for her kindergarten class. It was cockiness on my part to agree, considering I rarely cook and had to provide all the ingredients – right down to every sliver of ice and measuring cup — and I’m not great with kids.
My strategy come demo day was to go with an idiot proof smoothie recipe: Plunk in some strawberries. Toss in a few cubes of ice. Throw in a little yogurt. Hit blend.
Plunk, toss, throw, blend…. Plunk, toss, throw, blend…Plunk, toss, throw, blend…
Feeling confident I was strutting back to Room 122 with two gallons of fresh smoothie when I suddenly lost my grip and a tidal wave of pink liquid went crashing onto floor. It was the exact moment a group of rowdy 4th graders were heading into the cafeteria, prompting a bevy of janitors, aids and teachers to rush to the scene with cleaning products.
Any bad feelings I had for creating this the Board of Education version of an environmental disaster was reinforced by the image of a pink Timberland boot footprints leading down the hall.
Tip: A Bloody Mary is a great drink to downplay any alcoholic tendencies. You can use the tomato juice to hide the vodka and the fact that you sometimes drink during the day by passing it off as a “health drink with kick.”
With her wholesome good looks and carefree parenting style that put the other ‘burb stiffs to shame, Shirley was like a sophisticated, older version of a hippie chick. While her fellow suburbanites were whipping up batches of oatmeal cookies, she was in the garage belting out rock and roll tunes with her kids. She even went so far as to help them paint a beat up old school bus psychedelic, don a body slimming black pantsuit and hit the road with them on tour. How’s that for love and support?
Here’s a trick from a veteran dater on how to land a second date. Never talk about yourself. You can be a world class luger. Doesn’t matter. Keep your trap shut and sit back and let the guy ramble on about his stock portfolio, SAT scores, asthma and rock collection. He’ll think you’re fascinating and be dying to talk to you again.