greetings from pukeland

We moved back to my hometown just in time to witness sports history, meaning the Phillies winning the World Series. My mom dragged my rebellious heels away from here in 1981, one year after their last win. Shiver.

My mother admits that she's so superstitious that she has to turn off the TV if the other team starts scoring. I asked her, "You mean you think you're so important to the outcome of the World Series that you actually believe it makes a difference if your, YOUR TV is on or off?"

Affirmative.

This interrogation somehow led to another admission of my mother's, that it's the wife's responsibility to hold onto her husband by being upbeat. Peppy even. I can't remember how the thread of convo actually wove its way from sports witchy mojo to marriage secrets of the fifties, but it did, and I'm a changed woman as a result. I'm going to skip right into the kitchen, make my man a Manhattan and whip up some cacciatore, all with a smile. Or not. In reality, the kids and the hubby are all puking their guts out and I am the lucky duck who gets to mouth-breathe while washing twelve-thousand sheets. Go Phils. I know how to celebrate. 

for freaking out loud

Did I mention that I loathe the Republican ticket this election? It's not like me to be so engaged. Usually I shudder a bit and then get back to my Us Weekly. I don't protest. I don't rally. I don't make a stink. This year though, I am a changed woman. For instance, I spend way too much time on Youtube watching Tina Fey and Sarah Palin, cackling with evil glee over all of it, which somehow leads to watching way too many clips of the bickering between the diabolical Elisabeth Hasselback and Joy Behar on The View. (Loved the ones with Bill Maher.) (I know I'm supposed to provide links here but I have a DVD of Mad Men downstairs burning a hole in the player and it's not getting any earlier.)

paint and preschool

Before. Hole in the ceiling. Shiny old white paint.

After. It's a more cohesive look, albeit not too dramatic a change. I like to keep the drama on the walls and out of my relationships, but for now, I'll settle for less, thank you. Tapestry beige trim. China White Walls. Dove White ceiling. Maybe one day I'll tackle a backsplash in something ceramic, richly, thickly glazed in gold or olive or something. Or, you know, knock out a wall and build a glassed in breakfast nook that leads out to a deck and wildflower garden oasis.