i'm afraid to tell you what i did today. because if my family reads this, they will surely have the same reaction my youngest sister, andrea, had. which was hysterical fits of laughter. not the good, dang you're witty kind but the mocking, laughing AT you kind. but i'm willing to take one for the team, so here goes:
after a short coma, i woke up late and made my way onto the back porch for some fresh, backyard-picked oranges and the kind of cereal that only grandparents are allowed to buy. the kind that sends you to the little boys room every 5 minutes for the rest of the day. 80 degrees. no humidity. no deadlines or to-do lists. basically, the ultimate morning. especially considering i was raised to believe humidity was a fact of life. this, friends, is just NOT TRUE. my mother vehemently argues that she likes her heat with a whopping dollop of sludge and sweat. but, let's be honest here, mom, the "glistening" cleavage only looks sexy when it's not accompanied by pit stains and, as i believed meaghan calls it: swass. which is short for sweaty "butt".
visiting the city a month ago was the gateway drug. i think now, after two whole days, it's safe to say i'm hooked. turns out, after 22 years of jungle-living, my natural hairstyle is NOT in fact an afro! however, i think i had learned to work with the 'fro, and am now back to square one. which is to say, clueless about how to handle the mane. which further exacerbates the issue of no friends.
anyway, after breaking the fast, i strapped on my tennies and did the unthinkable: i mowed the "grass." NOTE: i must clarify, because this summer my family actually all gathered round to watch me ride the tractor, due to my less than stellar driving abilities. there may have been cameras and crying and serious injuries to 100-foot oak trees. riding mowers are NOT as easy as they look, people. and backwards in circles at full speed is something that should not be attempted at home. especially if you're not wearing a sports bra. but, family, let me tell you: I MOWED IT. mowed it GOOD. every little strand. if that's what they're called. and "grass" is to be put in quotations because i'm not sure about the whole west coast vegetation thang, it's all very prehistoric and jumanji looking, like it probably comes alive at night and would grab you by the ankle.
later, my hostess with the most-ess and i went over to costco to retrieve a special birthday
surprise from my parents. and surprised i was. and celebrate we did! Pat the Hostess and I located the beast and then proceded to load up, in true Costco style, with TANKS of tequila, triple sec, pina colada mix, margarita mix, rum, and all the fixin's (including
this). this thing is a MAMMOTH; if you'll note in the picture, the blender part is only about 1/3 of the size of the actual machine. i might have to charge the thing rent. however, i know my parents' rationale, and that is that i have no friends and at least i'll get the invite because i bring the party. thanks, 'rents.
then, headed home for a Test Run...After circling the free samples like ravenous vultures, of course. in retrospect, it seems questionable to anxiously wait in line 6 minutes only to get an 1/8th of a nuked corndog, but i have my full support behind any establishment that sells 400 packs of cream puffs and 8 pound blocks of cheddar. oh, america, you are too wonderful.
VERDICT: day two was emotionally stable enough that i could rest in Los Altos instead of scurrying all the way into SF Proper to emotionally eat/shop. baby steps, baby steps. i'm so incredibly grateful to Hostess Pat the opportunity to get to know her and to veg. Los Altos was gloriously converted to Margaritaville, and trashy country music reigned supreme. tomorrow morning we're going to see the opening day of "Mamma Mia!" and she promises we'll dance in the aisles. i may just have to bring the new appliance with us.
