Friday, May 28, 2010

Pretend Wife Dating Tip.

Pretend Wife is now out in paperback and here is a little dating tip --

Some corsages are edible. (Haven't we all seen a guy eat a corsage?) But just don't trust a guy who eats a corsage that's still pinned to the dress you're wearing. Worse, if he eats the corsage off of your best friend's dress. Beware!

True-ishness #1

The Pretend Wife just came out in paperback -- and some of it's true-ish.

#1 -- At a freshman orientation ice breaker in college, we were put in groups, told to give orders to someone in the group to break the ice with someone from another group. The example? "I like your shoes." I told the guy, "Pick her that girl there, spin her around like a soldier home from war."

And he did it -- like a professional at pick-her-up and spin-her, as if he'd been preparing his whole life for this moment.

And they dated all through college ... In the novel, she picked the wrong girl for him.

Sunday, May 23, 2010

Baby Said ...

So the baby wakes up from his nap. He's still a little unsteady and teary-eyed. He lifts his hands and says, "Yook at my hands!"

I assume he's upset from having smacked them in a fall on the sidewalk -- though I don't remember a recent fall. "What's wrong with your hands?" I ask.

In the saddest, most urgent voice of all time, he says, "They don't have chocolate in them!"

Ex-Communicated Nun -- Sister McBride: Don't Confess

This is an NPR commentary by Julianna Baggott on the Sister Margaret McBride and the Catholic Church and mercy.

Conversation with a Wet Collie

So our collie (a rescue from Alabama) is in the bathtub. He's wet. (Note to self: A wet collie always smells worse than a dry collie no matter how awful the dry collie smells.) The bath is over. He's too scared to jump out of the tub.

"Listen. Your kind has run miles to alert us of kids in wells. Your kind has pulled people from burning buildings. You can do this. You have to do this! For collie kind!"

The collie -- all shrunken and puny flat-furred as he is -- looks at me, his eyes wide, and seems to say, "I'm just me. I'm just doing the best I can."

And I get it. We are each individuals. So, yes, I reach in and pick up his sopping and heave him from the tub.

And then came the blow dryer ... true terror.

Friday, May 14, 2010

Things I said to my Mother Today.

1. One of the kids has strep throat so we all had to get swabbed. My mother, on the hypochondrial side of life, took us to get swabbed all the time. This morning, I did an impersonation of my childhood for her: gagging noises. She apologized. I said, "Yeah, but I don't have a weakened heart due to undiagnosed strep!" "So true!"

2. My three-year-old son is a girl today, pretending to be his old babysitter. "It's a two pocketbook morning."

3. My husband headed out of town last weekend for a soccer tournie. My mom asked where he went. "Where he always goes," I said, but it dawned on me that I don't know where this is. So I asked him, "Where do you always go?" And he said Orlando. And I said, "Yeah, but if I tell the cops 'Orlando,' they might want more info." "The cops?" "Yeah, when they only find one of your legs in a swamp or something." Accepting this as a reasonable scenario, he said, "It's called Buena Vista, I think." I said, "No, that's where George Costanza's parents wanted to buy a condo next to the Seinfelds."

4. My mother asked how we survived without my husband. (In our household, Dave is the stay at home person who does everything ... I mean: I still have to stare at the dryer for a long time to figure out how to turn it on.) I said, "Well, it's like suburban survivor. Like the electricity's gone out and we only have sticks for tools, but all that's really expected of us is to survive. So it's not too bad."