Monday, January 11, 2010
Busy Mama
I guess it's partly because of the holidays, but I've been crazy busy lately! I haven't even sat at my computer at home in months, except to load up SB's "adventure game", or to pull up videos of "Where Dreams Begin" on youtube. If you've never heard that song, and you're curious about what it is, don't bother searching for it. It will stay in your head for weeks, and even cause completely different Disney princess songs to pop into your heads. I woke up this morning jamming to some song from Mulan in my head that I didn't even know I knew.
So that's my lame excuse for not being devoted lately. Although with the hiatus I took back in the fall, I guess it's only to be expected. I have 164 photos and videos on my phone right now, many of which I'd like to share with you. So I need to get to blogging!
So what have I been up to? Mostly carting SB around to dance lessons, rehearsals and recitals. She was in the Nutcracker again last weekend. Freaking adorable, no doubt. But that's not what I want to talk about right now. A few weeks ago was parents' night at dance class, where we parents were allowed into the room to sit up front and witness first hand what we are paying for. Last year I got to see SB writhe around on the floor, make funny faces in the mirror, and perform the same dance, no matter what the lesson was. I was also lucky enough to catch Anna in the act, a dear child who made my own brat look like an angel.
This year, SB was great. Her body went through the right motions, but her face was a screwed up ball of grinning cheese that shouted "Look at me, Ma!" and had all the parents and the teacher cracking up. I had forgotten my camera, but luckily had my phone, and was able to catch this priceless moment of Emma (far right, if you couldn't tell) picking her nose. Then eating it. At least it wasn't my kid!!
So that's my lame excuse for not being devoted lately. Although with the hiatus I took back in the fall, I guess it's only to be expected. I have 164 photos and videos on my phone right now, many of which I'd like to share with you. So I need to get to blogging!
So what have I been up to? Mostly carting SB around to dance lessons, rehearsals and recitals. She was in the Nutcracker again last weekend. Freaking adorable, no doubt. But that's not what I want to talk about right now. A few weeks ago was parents' night at dance class, where we parents were allowed into the room to sit up front and witness first hand what we are paying for. Last year I got to see SB writhe around on the floor, make funny faces in the mirror, and perform the same dance, no matter what the lesson was. I was also lucky enough to catch Anna in the act, a dear child who made my own brat look like an angel.
This year, SB was great. Her body went through the right motions, but her face was a screwed up ball of grinning cheese that shouted "Look at me, Ma!" and had all the parents and the teacher cracking up. I had forgotten my camera, but luckily had my phone, and was able to catch this priceless moment of Emma (far right, if you couldn't tell) picking her nose. Then eating it. At least it wasn't my kid!!
Monday, December 14, 2009
Why My Mom Was Awesome.
Reason #1
We always got a real Christmas to decorate when I was younger, even
though with 2 cats and a dog, it was kind of dangerous. My cat, Chewy,
who was appropriately named by accident (Chewy was short for Chouette,
which meant cute in French) would constantly chew on the wires of the
lights. My brother's cat Tiger would bat at the ornaments until they
fell and usually broke. And the dog would invariably chase one of the
cats right into the tree at least a few times per season. It's a
miracle they all made it through each holiday season!
So it was no suprise when my mother decided against buying a Christmas
tree shortly after my brother and I had left for college. But since we
still came home for Christmas, mom didn't want to lose the feeling of
Christmas. An avid gardner, she had many plants strewn about her
house. Sheu found the next best thing to a dangerous traditional tree,
and thus began her holiday tradition of decorating the tropical banana
tree with ornaments and lights and putting the presents under it, just
beside its pot.
Merry christmas!
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Test
My new yoga socks. Hot? Yes. Do these socks make my ankles look big?
In Denial
So I guess I've been in denial for a while, but it's finally time for me to admit it. I'm getting old.
A few months ago I turned 31. By most people's standards, that's not too incredibly old. But it seems like in the past few months, my body's age has increased by at least a decade. I wake up every morning in pain with a stiff back. I've been nursing all kinds of minor injuries, like low back pain, muscle cramps, and now I have knee pain.
Knee pain? I'm not active enough yet to have knee pain. I only really started working out seriously about a month ago. I'm still running 3 miles at a pop, at best, a few days per week, and the exercise classes I teach/take aren't brutal enough to justify knee pain. I think I might have twisted something on Tuesday night in ballet...since I'm so hard core in class. But I can't think of what I could have done. Turnout occurs at the hip, and my hips are fine.
My feet even hurt, like I've been running on the treadmill at top speed barefoot. I've never had achy feet before. And I even got new shoes last month!!
I used to make fun of my coworker because he would hobble in every morning, complaining of back pain and sore legs, pop a few Pain Aids, and get on with his day, but this morning I found myself at the medicine cabinet at work, looking for the Pain Aid just to get through the morning!!
I took a quiz on Facebook a while back that was supposed to estimate your "real" age. Since Facebook quizzes are widely known for their accuracy, I was surprised to see that my "real" age was 0. Might explain me, mentally, but physically? Add a one and another zero in front.
I've really got it in my head that I'm a runner. Or I should be. So I'm having a hard time accepting that it might not be the best thing for my pathetic crumbling body. I'm trying a different path these days. This weekend I'm attending a workshop to become certified as a Yogafit instructor. Then in February I will attend a similar workshop to become certified to teach Pilates. Since I have zero time at home to practice these things, I thought teaching would not only make me more marketable, but allow me to get in some good workouts on the clock.
On a completely unrelated note, I brought Pearl in for her 4-month checkup this week. Apparently this beast of a child is 16 lbs 5 oz already, which puts her in the 90th percentile for both height and weight. I'm not sure where the Amazon woman gene comes from, but the doctor couldn't have been happier.
A few months ago I turned 31. By most people's standards, that's not too incredibly old. But it seems like in the past few months, my body's age has increased by at least a decade. I wake up every morning in pain with a stiff back. I've been nursing all kinds of minor injuries, like low back pain, muscle cramps, and now I have knee pain.
Knee pain? I'm not active enough yet to have knee pain. I only really started working out seriously about a month ago. I'm still running 3 miles at a pop, at best, a few days per week, and the exercise classes I teach/take aren't brutal enough to justify knee pain. I think I might have twisted something on Tuesday night in ballet...since I'm so hard core in class. But I can't think of what I could have done. Turnout occurs at the hip, and my hips are fine.
My feet even hurt, like I've been running on the treadmill at top speed barefoot. I've never had achy feet before. And I even got new shoes last month!!
I used to make fun of my coworker because he would hobble in every morning, complaining of back pain and sore legs, pop a few Pain Aids, and get on with his day, but this morning I found myself at the medicine cabinet at work, looking for the Pain Aid just to get through the morning!!
I took a quiz on Facebook a while back that was supposed to estimate your "real" age. Since Facebook quizzes are widely known for their accuracy, I was surprised to see that my "real" age was 0. Might explain me, mentally, but physically? Add a one and another zero in front.
I've really got it in my head that I'm a runner. Or I should be. So I'm having a hard time accepting that it might not be the best thing for my pathetic crumbling body. I'm trying a different path these days. This weekend I'm attending a workshop to become certified as a Yogafit instructor. Then in February I will attend a similar workshop to become certified to teach Pilates. Since I have zero time at home to practice these things, I thought teaching would not only make me more marketable, but allow me to get in some good workouts on the clock.
On a completely unrelated note, I brought Pearl in for her 4-month checkup this week. Apparently this beast of a child is 16 lbs 5 oz already, which puts her in the 90th percentile for both height and weight. I'm not sure where the Amazon woman gene comes from, but the doctor couldn't have been happier.
Thursday, December 3, 2009
Dance Star
I've had some really lousy luck the past few months, and my method of dealing with these heavy situations and emotions is to take full advantage of the effects of retail therapy. Since the idea of trying on clothes depresses me, I got a kickass cool phone with a data plan, GPS and unlimited texting, a new car with bluetooth and satellite radio (didn't have much of a choice with the car since I totaled my last one, but the addons were optional), and splurged on a couple of workout DVDs and some other stuff.
One of my splurges was to enroll my ungraceful self in ballet lessons.
Are you finished laughing yet? No? It's ok, I'll wait.
Now? Good. I took ballet for many years as a youth. We moved around a lot, but I pretty much took lessons on and off between moves from the time I was 3 until I was 16. At that point, I begged my mother to let me continue jazz and tap but drop ballet. I likened myself to the dancing hippos from Fantasia's Dance of the Hours.
But I chose to enroll in this class for several reasons:
Nuff said.
So I've gone twice so far. I'm doing pretty well in the class, but holy moly, let me tell you that those mirrors are HELLACIOUS. Now, I'm no hot mama quite yet, but I thought I was doing pretty well in the get back to a normal human female non-whale shape department. That confidence was completely shattered when I glanced in the mirrors in class. The person I saw staring back at me was a short, squat, butternut squash with a ponytail and legs. Short, stubby legs. That jiggled a lot.
The good thing is that I didn't have to look in the mirror long, because my barre was at the opposite end of the room and we do a lot of stuff facing the barre so my back was to the mirror. But then one of the last things we do are sautes (jumps) right in front of the mirror.
I almost cried. The butternut squash was made of Jell-o!! OMG. I have never seen anything so disgusting in my entire life. Well, maybe this. Actually, that's kind of what I looked like, only less scantily clad. Well actually, not really since I was in dance class. OK that's really video from my dance class.
Anyway.
So yeah. Now I'm really motivated to buckle down and lose the rest of my Pearl whale weight. I started the plan by consuming only half a panini at lunch today instead of a whole one! Not that it was by choice...but it's a start!
Here's hoping that by the time I go to the Grammies, I'm back to the normal flounder of a person I was before.
Hint, hint.
You know who you are.
Call me.
Peace out.
One of my splurges was to enroll my ungraceful self in ballet lessons.
Are you finished laughing yet? No? It's ok, I'll wait.
Now? Good. I took ballet for many years as a youth. We moved around a lot, but I pretty much took lessons on and off between moves from the time I was 3 until I was 16. At that point, I begged my mother to let me continue jazz and tap but drop ballet. I likened myself to the dancing hippos from Fantasia's Dance of the Hours.
But I chose to enroll in this class for several reasons:
- As a working mother of 2 young-uns, I need some alone time
- I could use some flexibility
- I could use some gracw and poise
- I'm in love with SB's dance teacher and she teaches the adult ballet class on the one evening that I could actually take it!
- Dancers are hot.
Nuff said.
So I've gone twice so far. I'm doing pretty well in the class, but holy moly, let me tell you that those mirrors are HELLACIOUS. Now, I'm no hot mama quite yet, but I thought I was doing pretty well in the get back to a normal human female non-whale shape department. That confidence was completely shattered when I glanced in the mirrors in class. The person I saw staring back at me was a short, squat, butternut squash with a ponytail and legs. Short, stubby legs. That jiggled a lot.
The good thing is that I didn't have to look in the mirror long, because my barre was at the opposite end of the room and we do a lot of stuff facing the barre so my back was to the mirror. But then one of the last things we do are sautes (jumps) right in front of the mirror.
I almost cried. The butternut squash was made of Jell-o!! OMG. I have never seen anything so disgusting in my entire life. Well, maybe this. Actually, that's kind of what I looked like, only less scantily clad. Well actually, not really since I was in dance class. OK that's really video from my dance class.
Anyway.
So yeah. Now I'm really motivated to buckle down and lose the rest of my Pearl whale weight. I started the plan by consuming only half a panini at lunch today instead of a whole one! Not that it was by choice...but it's a start!
Here's hoping that by the time I go to the Grammies, I'm back to the normal flounder of a person I was before.
Hint, hint.
You know who you are.
Call me.
Peace out.
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
Awkward...
On Sunday night, my husband got a really bad flare up of gout on his foot. It helps to soak the foot in epsom salt, and we were out, so he sent me to the Rite Aid around the corner to pick some up. Now it's impossible for me to go to Rite Aid and only get one thing, especially when those first few rows are filled with Christmas goodies. So of course on my way back to the first aid area I picked up a Cinderella toothbrush holder, a Barbie and the Three Musketeers book (for SB), a couple of Reese Christmas Trees (for TB- they're his favorite), and some Reese/Oreo-type cookies (we were out of treats for SB's lunch the next day). I grabbed a huge bag of the salt and headed to the checkout.
There was this guy standing there, kind of back from the line, but kind of in line at the same time. Rather than stand behind someone who was just waiting for a bus or cut in front of someone waiting in line, I asked if he was in line- he was not. As I was asking him, a woman came up and took her place in line in front of us. Since there were 2 cashiers working, I didn't care, I just took my place in the other line. No big deal.
My cashier finished first, and without even glancing in my direction, motioned for the lady in the line next to me to approach her. The other lady refused, saying she was in her own line and we had gotten there at the same time so I should go up. (How polite!!) During this entire exchange, I was just observing. No expression on my face whatsoever, except mild interest in what was going on. I hadn't made any movement towards the counter, I wasn't getting angry or even confused, though I should have been.
After hearing the other lady, my cashier looked at me and put her hands up in the air and said "I'm not trying to start anything, I just wanted whoever was next...it doesn't make any difference at all to me...don't get upset at me."
Like I was about to tell her off. Honestly? Technically that lady was there before me. Sure, she was in another line and it was a little weird for the cashier to try to get her to go first- I mean in my opinion, you choose the wrong line and you're just screwed. It's one of those things you just accept. I ALWAYS choose the wrong line. But I wouldn't have made a peep if the lady had in fact gone ahead of me in my own line.
So why the heck was this cashier acting like I had just read her the riot act? To make matters worse- and I don't know if she did this because she was trying to butter me up, or because she's just socially inept, but she made a point of commenting on every. single. item I was purchasing. "Oh, these look good...and these are sooooooo delicious" (about the cookies and Reese trees), "Someone was in here earlier and got the same thing but in Spiderman" (about the toothbrush holder), "Someone has a daughter who likes Barbie" (about the book- and how does she know it's my daughter? I could totally be a Barbie fan...who reads picture books that come with paper dolls), "Wow, this is a heavy bag! What do you need all this salt for? I'm not putting anything else in the bag with this"...and on and on.
Keep in mind this was RITE AID. Thank goodness I wasn't buying condoms or tampons or hemorrhoid cream! What would she have said then?!?!
There was this guy standing there, kind of back from the line, but kind of in line at the same time. Rather than stand behind someone who was just waiting for a bus or cut in front of someone waiting in line, I asked if he was in line- he was not. As I was asking him, a woman came up and took her place in line in front of us. Since there were 2 cashiers working, I didn't care, I just took my place in the other line. No big deal.
My cashier finished first, and without even glancing in my direction, motioned for the lady in the line next to me to approach her. The other lady refused, saying she was in her own line and we had gotten there at the same time so I should go up. (How polite!!) During this entire exchange, I was just observing. No expression on my face whatsoever, except mild interest in what was going on. I hadn't made any movement towards the counter, I wasn't getting angry or even confused, though I should have been.
After hearing the other lady, my cashier looked at me and put her hands up in the air and said "I'm not trying to start anything, I just wanted whoever was next...it doesn't make any difference at all to me...don't get upset at me."
Like I was about to tell her off. Honestly? Technically that lady was there before me. Sure, she was in another line and it was a little weird for the cashier to try to get her to go first- I mean in my opinion, you choose the wrong line and you're just screwed. It's one of those things you just accept. I ALWAYS choose the wrong line. But I wouldn't have made a peep if the lady had in fact gone ahead of me in my own line.
So why the heck was this cashier acting like I had just read her the riot act? To make matters worse- and I don't know if she did this because she was trying to butter me up, or because she's just socially inept, but she made a point of commenting on every. single. item I was purchasing. "Oh, these look good...and these are sooooooo delicious" (about the cookies and Reese trees), "Someone was in here earlier and got the same thing but in Spiderman" (about the toothbrush holder), "Someone has a daughter who likes Barbie" (about the book- and how does she know it's my daughter? I could totally be a Barbie fan...who reads picture books that come with paper dolls), "Wow, this is a heavy bag! What do you need all this salt for? I'm not putting anything else in the bag with this"...and on and on.
Keep in mind this was RITE AID. Thank goodness I wasn't buying condoms or tampons or hemorrhoid cream! What would she have said then?!?!
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Know What?
I changed my mind. I want to keep Bmore Mama. Mostly because I forgot my password to that other blog, but also because I'm lacking the creativity to enhance the new one. So I'll stick around here for a while. I'm not going with the 2-year contract here but I'll do the monthly thing. If you'll have me back.
Anyway.
So lots of news that I'm sure I'll get into as I go but I really don't feel like recapping the last few months. Obviously Pearl made her apearance into this world. I realized earlier this week that she looks kind of like Emeril. BAM! No seriously...see the resemblance?
Clearly Pearl is a heck of a lot cuter. And it's a strange coincidence that we were in NOLA (which I think is where he lives) just before I got pregnant.....
Moving on.
It's good to be back!
Anyway.
So lots of news that I'm sure I'll get into as I go but I really don't feel like recapping the last few months. Obviously Pearl made her apearance into this world. I realized earlier this week that she looks kind of like Emeril. BAM! No seriously...see the resemblance?
Clearly Pearl is a heck of a lot cuter. And it's a strange coincidence that we were in NOLA (which I think is where he lives) just before I got pregnant.....
Moving on.
It's good to be back!
Friday, July 10, 2009
Reality Check from TB
This post is an email my husband sent out yesterday.
Life is short...
....so don't take a minute for granted!
Exactly one week ago my almost 4-year old daughter, SB, woke up at 12:30 w/an acute croup attack (1st one). For a minute or so she really couldn't breathe......we thought we were going to lose her. Then it gradually went away. 911-ambulance-emergency room...the whole nine yards.
Today, my pregnant wife, due in August, was in a car accident on rt. 70 (major highway). While avoiding an accident in front of her, she was forced into a lane where the side of her car was hit by a pickup truck and threw her spinning across the 3 or 4 lane highway. This highway is normally packed w/tractor trailers, etc... She came away with only a stiff neck...and an eight hour, precautionary stay at Howard General.
The last few years I've been trying to appreciate what I have and always keep the big picture in mind. Events like this just make me try to live every day like it's my last.
Everyone who knows me KNOWS that the last thing I am looking for is pity. I'm sharing this so everyone can do a little reality check and remember what is really important.
See pictures below......
TB
Life is short...
....so don't take a minute for granted!
Exactly one week ago my almost 4-year old daughter, SB, woke up at 12:30 w/an acute croup attack (1st one). For a minute or so she really couldn't breathe......we thought we were going to lose her. Then it gradually went away. 911-ambulance-emergency room...the whole nine yards.
Today, my pregnant wife, due in August, was in a car accident on rt. 70 (major highway). While avoiding an accident in front of her, she was forced into a lane where the side of her car was hit by a pickup truck and threw her spinning across the 3 or 4 lane highway. This highway is normally packed w/tractor trailers, etc... She came away with only a stiff neck...and an eight hour, precautionary stay at Howard General.
The last few years I've been trying to appreciate what I have and always keep the big picture in mind. Events like this just make me try to live every day like it's my last.
Everyone who knows me KNOWS that the last thing I am looking for is pity. I'm sharing this so everyone can do a little reality check and remember what is really important.
See pictures below......
TB
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Say What?
When I was pregnant with SB, and I mean very pregnant- like 8 months pregnant, I got on the elevator at work along with 2 other women. Once the door closed, one woman glanced around and said "Wow...on the elevator with 2 pregnant women. I hope we don't get stuck!" I kind of laughed, but after a minute's pause, the third lady said, very quietly, "I'm not pregnant."
The remainder of the ride was very quiet.
It's amazing to me what people have the balls to say to total strangers. And I seem to be on the receiving end of a lot of uncouth comments lately.
One of the members at my gym commented the other day, as she was walking by me, that I was getting bigger (duh, that's usually the idea with pregnancy). I smiled (phony) and mumbled out some unremarkable reply, mostly in agreement. This prompted her to stop to have a full-blown conversation with me. Which I regret taking part in.
Her: Actually, you look kind of gassy. Do you have gas?
Me: No, I'm pretty sure it's just a baby in there. No gas.
Her: Funny, because you look like those people in the commercials who have gas.
Me: Yeah...no gas.
Her: Has anyone else told you that?
Me: That I look like I have gas? No.
Her: Yeah, well who else would really say that to you but me?
Me (thinking): I think you're on to something there.
Since I've been very irritable these past few days...weeks...months?...I have since not made any effort to initiate conversations with this particular lady. But I can't avoid her, she's one of the lunchtime class regulars. One morning she called in to sign up for class, and felt the need to further irritate me.
Her: I can't make the 12:15 class so sign me up for the 11:30 class. Are you teaching that?
Me: No, The Intern's teaching it.
Her: What are you teaching today?
Me: Nothing.
Her: But you're there...
Me: Yes I am...but I'm not teaching anything.
Why do people assume that just because I show up to work that I have to teach a class? And the weirdest thing is that a few weeks ago, she was giving me a hard time because I was still actively teaching classes...so now that I'm 8 months along as opposed to 6 months, it's all of a sudden unacceptable for me to lighten my teaching load? Or show up without having a class to teach?
I don't get it.
Anyway, even total strangers are taking part in this whole crossing the line with comments. I brought SB to the pool tonight (not the one with Rick James, this is the outdoor family pool). Since I feel too obese to squeeze into my bathing suit, and too sick and tired with a sore crotch to get into the pool myself, the plan was to just let SB splash around the wading pool. That way I could just sit on the side of the pool and not really exert myself, but SB could wear her little self out.
There were 2 little boys in the pool when we arrived, and one grandmother. At one point, Grandmother yelled at the lifeguard on duty because he had picked up her noodle that she had left at the edge of the big pool, and was smacking the water with it while on the phone. Personally, I didn't really think he was hurting anything by being on the phone because there was NO ONE in the big pool. Every single person there was in the wading pool area.
But that's not my business. I tend to keep to myself.
But out of the blue, Grandmother looked over at me and said "It must be 4:30." I had just checked my phone for messages so I knew that it was actually closer to 5:30, so I told her that.
Her response: Oh, because usually at 4:30 the pool changes color.
It took me a minute to digest that and figure out what she meant by that. Honestly, my first thought was that she was implying that someone peed in the pool every day at 4:30. But after glancing at the big pool, which had by this time become a little more populated, I realized she was referring to the color of the people enjoying the pool.
I didn't respond to that. It's one thing to warn me there aren't any Jews in Manchester, or to tell me I look gassy, but I was raised to be pretty much oblivious to color.
The remainder of the ride was very quiet.
It's amazing to me what people have the balls to say to total strangers. And I seem to be on the receiving end of a lot of uncouth comments lately.
One of the members at my gym commented the other day, as she was walking by me, that I was getting bigger (duh, that's usually the idea with pregnancy). I smiled (phony) and mumbled out some unremarkable reply, mostly in agreement. This prompted her to stop to have a full-blown conversation with me. Which I regret taking part in.
Her: Actually, you look kind of gassy. Do you have gas?
Me: No, I'm pretty sure it's just a baby in there. No gas.
Her: Funny, because you look like those people in the commercials who have gas.
Me: Yeah...no gas.
Her: Has anyone else told you that?
Me: That I look like I have gas? No.
Her: Yeah, well who else would really say that to you but me?
Me (thinking): I think you're on to something there.
Since I've been very irritable these past few days...weeks...months?...I have since not made any effort to initiate conversations with this particular lady. But I can't avoid her, she's one of the lunchtime class regulars. One morning she called in to sign up for class, and felt the need to further irritate me.
Her: I can't make the 12:15 class so sign me up for the 11:30 class. Are you teaching that?
Me: No, The Intern's teaching it.
Her: What are you teaching today?
Me: Nothing.
Her: But you're there...
Me: Yes I am...but I'm not teaching anything.
Why do people assume that just because I show up to work that I have to teach a class? And the weirdest thing is that a few weeks ago, she was giving me a hard time because I was still actively teaching classes...so now that I'm 8 months along as opposed to 6 months, it's all of a sudden unacceptable for me to lighten my teaching load? Or show up without having a class to teach?
I don't get it.
Anyway, even total strangers are taking part in this whole crossing the line with comments. I brought SB to the pool tonight (not the one with Rick James, this is the outdoor family pool). Since I feel too obese to squeeze into my bathing suit, and too sick and tired with a sore crotch to get into the pool myself, the plan was to just let SB splash around the wading pool. That way I could just sit on the side of the pool and not really exert myself, but SB could wear her little self out.
There were 2 little boys in the pool when we arrived, and one grandmother. At one point, Grandmother yelled at the lifeguard on duty because he had picked up her noodle that she had left at the edge of the big pool, and was smacking the water with it while on the phone. Personally, I didn't really think he was hurting anything by being on the phone because there was NO ONE in the big pool. Every single person there was in the wading pool area.
But that's not my business. I tend to keep to myself.
But out of the blue, Grandmother looked over at me and said "It must be 4:30." I had just checked my phone for messages so I knew that it was actually closer to 5:30, so I told her that.
Her response: Oh, because usually at 4:30 the pool changes color.
It took me a minute to digest that and figure out what she meant by that. Honestly, my first thought was that she was implying that someone peed in the pool every day at 4:30. But after glancing at the big pool, which had by this time become a little more populated, I realized she was referring to the color of the people enjoying the pool.
I didn't respond to that. It's one thing to warn me there aren't any Jews in Manchester, or to tell me I look gassy, but I was raised to be pretty much oblivious to color.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
