Back to General Silliness…

My husband, the Dear Mr. Demonic, went out of town yesterday. I think he’ll be back today. He’d better be back before the symphony tonight, as we have a date.

I use the opportunity for an empty house to do things I don’t usually do. You know what they say… “when the cat’s away, the mice will play…” Well, I’m guilty as charged.

I used to do crazy stuff while he was away, like paint the bathroom or buy unfinished furniture and finish it. I don’t mind painting small bathrooms, and I really needed that little cupboard that I stained cherry to match my kitchen table. Ah, but that was years ago. My current take on the painting situation is that they have professionals that can do that, and much quicker too. As I get older, I find that I “need” less junk. I used that cupboard to store linens, and now I have decided to give my tablecloths and place mats to the Goodwill. The cupboard followed suit.

My initial plan last night was to knock off a couple thousand words on my novel. I really want to get to the end so I can start editing in earnest. Oh, but how plans can get waylaid…

First, my daughter, the Ms. MiniD, called from California. This call was nice; bubbly, full of news. She was positive, for a change. Of course, she was positive that she needed money, which was one of the purposes of the call. (The major purpose, if you want my opinion.) But it was not all “Mommmmeeeee, I love you Mommy!” which is normally how a call begins if she wants something. (Oh, she wanted banana bread too. I guess that chocolate zucchini cake didn’t sit well with her, although her roommates chowed it down.)

Ms. MiniD also thanked me profusely for sending her David Beckham poster. It’s a monster of a poster from Pottery Barn Teens, and she loves the Becks (or whatever they call him). Then she went into a long launching of how she needs to get a job, and how she hasn’t filled up the gas tank in her car since I left there three weeks ago. I was amazed at her resolve to let her tank go down to fumes before filling up again. Luckily, in California, there is no hint of hurricanes, so their gas prices will stay the same – high. Ours has already gone up 30 cents in anticipation of a storm that hasn’t arrived yet, and we live in the freakin’ Tundra!

I didn’t want to cut my daughter short. After all, I don’t get many happy phone calls from her, so I let her talk about her roommates, her classes, the food at the school, etc. This was a nice bonding experience, but the call cut into my precious computer time.

After the phone call, I got up to stretch my legs and get a glass of wine, when POW! the muscle in my neck (on the right side) spasmed. I had been fearing this happening for a while. It’s happened before, and I can tell when it will happen again. I have to blame my current condition on carrying a huge purse. My doctor says I should stay away from heavy purses, and usually I do. I started carrying this massive tote on my trip to the Left Coast four weeks ago, you know, to have everything handy just in case. After I got home, I neglected to change purses.

Wine and Advil go great together, but the pain was too intense for a long sit-down with the computer. I managed to write a book review that I needed to get out, and that was it. The situation called for another glass of wine, a ThermaCare wrap, and digging the heating pad out of the junk drawer. After a night of sleeping with a rolled up hand towel under my neck, I feel a little better. Not much, but a little.

As for the general silliness, my internet ex-boyfriend (MIB) and still-friend and I participated in some real whacko nuttiness on the instant message the other day. Our conversation took a turn to the weird and funky. We decided to collaborate on a sci-fi fantasy novel set in space. As he is the bona fide scientist, he will provide expertise on the technical aspects, and I will concentrate on the interpersonal. The funny thing is that we live thousands of miles apart and have never met. We plan on never meeting until after the book is published. Maybe not even then.

My Daughter Made Me Cry Today

Killing her is not an option, but a thought. Retail therapy is the only cure.

Ms. MiniDemonic Smitten By Southern California, Not So For Mama

A Brief Update

It didn’t take long for Ms. MiniDemonic to become smitten with southern California, or SoCal as the trendy say. It could have been the minute we walked off the plane in LA and stepped out into a clear and flawlessly warm night. or it could have been when we got out of the car the following day at The College of Her Choice and instantly got a snootful of jasmine and verbena and a full view of the Pacific Ocean.

In the ensuing days, full of sunshine and blue sky, sand, palm trees and somewhat conspicuous consumption, Ms. Mini D has proclaimed her fascination with the far westerly state has moved from puppy love to full-blown obsession.

I like it here too, but I prefer the city by the bay, San Francisco. For one thing, it’s not as hot there. I like sun, but heat is another thing altogether. I love how downtown San Francisco smells like flowers, but the aroma is a hint of fragrance, not an assault on the nasal cavities. O’Reilly was right. San Francisco, with it’s diverse cultures and people, is more like another country rather than another city in the same state. The worst thing: it appears to be more crowded down here. The appearance could be because it IS indeed more crowded down here, or it could be becauce the freeway system is massive and never ending. The nice thing about San Francisco is that all of the action and most of the people are kept together  in a small space for the sheer lack of anywhere to go. If you jam almost a million people on a peninsula that is about seven miles square, there can be no massive freeway system.

It doesn’t matter to Ms. Mini D. Just as I and her older brother feel an affinity for the City, I can see that her true love is SoCal. I’ve enjoyed watching her as she falls deeper and deeper under the spell. It’s an emotion that’s happened to me. The enchantment she feels, while not tempered with any amount of common sense, is a good thing. It just might be her first real love.

Of course, now it’s time to bring out the common sense from the bag of tricks, or else that tall, thin guy back at home is going to think we are both crazy. An eighteen-year-old basing a life-long move on true love with a geographical location is not going to win over Mr. Demonic. She will have to arm herself with budgets and sensible arguments if she’s going to win this debate and begin her move in August.

We are working on that.

Aging Really Sucked Last Night

During a break in Forced Family Fun Night yesterday, my daughter loudly proclaimed who she was voting for (Barack Obama) and who she would never vote for (Hillary Clinton).

Not thinking, I replied, “You can’t vote for anyone yet!”

Both she and my husband yelled in unison, “She/I can, TOO!”

I had conveniently forgotten that she turns 18 in July.

How I could forget that happening is totally crazy. We’ve been filling out college applications online for the last month. I’ve been shelling out application fees with the credit card so much that I now have memorized the number and the security code.

My baby is almost an adult!

She will be trying to establish residency in California soon after her birthday. This means a drivers’ license and registering to vote, using her brother’s address. If she completes these tasks soon after her birthday, she should be allowed to vote in November.

This is unfathomable to me. It seems like just yesterday, she was learning to talk and be potty trained. It was just yesterday that she fell on her chin while learning to ride a bike (the only skin on her head not covered by protective helmet). It had to be just ten minutes ago that she learned how to drive.

I like that my birdie is ready to fly out of the nest, but it still comes as a shock to realize it will be so soon.

After realizing my misspoken words, I retreated, silently, into a box of Godiva. Chocolate is the only cure for old age.