Team Craigslist

I LOVE Craigslist.

I've had the best of luck selling, finding and just plain getting rid of stuff using the online classifieds. Maybe it's because I'm not selling sex tricks or piercing equipment, but I've only dealt with the nicest folks.

Tonight I met a woman named Rose in the parking lot of one of the four Starbucks within one mile of me where she bought (for my asking price) this aluminum Christmas tree I didn't want anymore AND I convinced her to just take about a dozen assorted Christmas decorations. It was a win-win people.

It was awesome. She was happy. I was thrilled. We actually hugged as we parted ways.

It's really a cool thing. We don't even know each other's last name or real email address but we had a real human experience, ya know?? She was looking for an aluminum tree and I was looking to get rid of one...and we found each other within minutes of my post. This is same-day, second-hand kismet I'm talking about. Brings a tear to your eye, doesn't it.

Each time I move something successfully via Craigslist, my faith in the human race is restored...a little.

Hooray for "old school" Craigslist--the way it was intended, before all the sleazy hookers and con artists got involved.

Adult Decorating

Still in progress, but loving my Monday decorating peace and quiet...

Holiday music blaring. Check.

Christmas decorations successfully extracted from the garage. Check.

Tree up and lighted. Check.

(side bar: I HATE the pre-lit trees. They simply don't stay totally lit from year to year and I was determined to find a high quality fake tree WITHOUT LIGHTS. Think about it. They're all pre-lit now.)

Seasonal candle lit and aromatic. Check.

Kids at school. Check.

Call me scrooge, but that last one is very important. The kids and I spent the balance of the weekend getting the tree, the lights and kid-constructed paper chain up and they put on THEIR precious school-made ornaments and I love it.

However, I LOVE to do the rest of it. Placing my favorite ornaments prominently here and there while singing loudly (and very badly) all alone.

All that's possibly missing is an adult libation...let's see, now where did I put that Frangelico for my peppermint coffee??

Klepto Kiddie

It's a Christmas miracle.

Last Thanksgiving my son, who generally does a very good job of keeping up with things, left his brand spanking new iTouch at his Aunt's house . It wouldn't have been a big deal really, since we called the next day to reclaim the thing, but my niece had a ton of teenage friends over late that night and whadayaknow...the iTouch was nowhere to be found a mere twelve hours later.

My son was devastated, having only received the iTouch a week earlier at his tenth birthday celebration and since he's really responsible, we just quietly chalked it up to an unknown thieving teenager and decided not to punish him.

We bought him a new one one a few days later. After all, we were sort of to blame too for him leaving it there since we left quite late that night and scooped our sleeping children up from the various sofas upon which they had collapsed after hours of running around playing all day.

End of story.

NOT.

Fast forward to this Thanksgiving eve when I inexplicably decided to clean out my daughter's toy packed room. Being the youngest, she not only has all her toys, but also our son's hand-me-down items to include an inordinate ratio of dinos to dolls. I spent about six hours removing a TON OF CRAP from the mattress-less trundle-turned toy bin under her bed and LO AND BEHOLD....I found the year old missing iTouch.

Hmmmmmm.....So she certainly knew about the lost iTouch and how sad her brother was last year. Notably too she had made quite the stink about big brother getting an iTouch before she did though we tried to explain how he was older, it was his birthday, it was all he'd been asking for, etc... but she was none too thrilled at the time.

I can only imagine what must have been going through her mind too once she got this thing safely and secretly into her room because she didn't know the the passcode our son had programmed on the the device, rendering the iTouch completely useless to her and I know she had to have been SOOOOOO confused as what to do next. I'm only inferring that she must have just decided to hide it in the bowels of her toy box at some point because it was inside a ziplock baggie, then wrapped tightly in a scarf poked deep within the forgotten toys.

What a scheming little Kleptomaniac, right.

This isn't the first time she's been the jealous little sister unsatisfied with a second-hand toy or delayed gratification. She even did this over and over with a simple hair brush actually. She was OBSESSED with this random hairbrush my husband had and would steal it over and over again until we finally had to have a talk with her.

So now we have this newly restored iTouch. Do we reward her with it a year later? Do we confront her a year later? Oh the quandary.

Mojo in an Implant

Bio-identical hormone replacement.

I'm doing it. I'm getting my sexy back. Move over JT.

I admit it. The stupid, cheesy commercials where some chubby woman is talking about how she was driving her husband "crazy for sex" finally wore me down and I went in. Maybe they play in your town too. The company is HRC Medical and I'll enthusiastically do a commercial testimonial if this really works.

The treatment also de-bitchifies the person as well and as unbelievably irritable as I've been the last many months, my children should rejoice. ...Not to mention my better and more patient half.

This place actually GUARANTEES RESULTS. Really. It's right there in the contract and I'm on board people. They are nationwide and if you're reading this and need their services, be sure and tell them I sent you because I'll get a cool $100.

Here's their website: www.hrcmedical.com (I'm not tech-saavy enough to actually copy a functional link here, sorry)

What I didn't realize and what the commercials don't tell you is that the hormones are administered via a tiny implant every three months. Ouch, but BRING IT.

My hubby thought himself HILARIOUS today when I was explaining to him my new hor-mone therapy and sent me the following text: I made a whore moan once...

Classic honey.

I get the mojo on the 30th and fully expect to be ten years younger (and nicer) by Christmas morning.

Stay tuned.

Giving Thanks For Open Restaurants

I can't wait to have a fresh mimosa in the morning.

It's my favorite holiday sip tradition and I picked up four bottles of decent champagne at 7:00 this morning.

I meant to get to my favorite market all week, but opted for super early this morning and I'm SOOOOOOOO glad I did. I drove by the market several times throughout the day today while running various errands and there was actually a line of cars formed just to enter the parking lot. Man, am I glad I slipped in and out all stealthy-like before my hubby even left for work.

We're doing Thanksgiving a little non-traditionally tomorrow however but it should be fun. For the actual meal, we're going to a fancy-schmancy restaurant because our dedicated turkey-roaster (aka "Uncle Colonel") is in Afghanistan for the next month and no one else feels up to the task and incredibly high bar he's set through the years.

"Luke" is famed New Orleans Chef John Besh's first restaurant outside Louisiana and it's supposed to be FABULOUS, so we're stoked.

I am hoping to continue my mimosa chain right into Luke and through the dinner.

Cheese and Water Chestnuts

Totally random, but I had this strange yet meaningless realization today while having lunch with the family at PF Changs...

There is no cheese in Chinese food. Name one Chinese dish with cheese. For that matter, there's really no cheese in Asian food in general, I mean cream cheese in the Philly Roll at your local sushi place definitely doesn't count.

Your welcome for pointing out this interesting fact.

Or.

Please forgive me if I've wasted your time.

Pill Popping Broodle

So last night, or um...this morning when we got home via a taxi after heavily celebrating the birthday of a friend, I couldn't locate my old lady pill box from which I pop my required medication every night. I knew I would be...comprised at whatever time we returned so before we left, I took my pill box out of my bedside drawer and placed it on my pillow where I knew I'd have to see it, no matter how late or how goofy I was and thus remember to take my pills.

I did remember to take my medicine, independent of my little reminder placement, but I couldn't find my pill box. I was stumbling around confused and searching for my pill box. I NEED those pills every night--especially the hormones. I looked under the bed, in my drawers, in the kitchen, my bathroom, and even my purse but I couldn't find them anywhere.

Luckily I had a few extras still in the pharmacy bottle so I just took those. I was so annoyed.

Now, this morning I'm up, head throbbing and gingerly making my very necessary coffee while "shhhhushing" the kids as nicely as I can when I notice our little Broodle puppy rooting under the sofa. This is not entirely unusual as she's always getting into something.

"DING, DING, DING"

I crawl over there and whadaya know, she has broken into my pill box.

Ok, gross and dangerous potentially I guess, but gross because she had apparently enjoyed the FISH OIL capsules more than anything else!! There is now fish oil residue in our rug. This as you can imagine does not smell good.

Cleaning and smelling it in my current post-party state does not thrill me.

And what am I supposed to tell the pharmacist? She ate four of my progesterone capsules too and two of this antibiotic I take to keep my complexion clear.

Do we need a trip to the vet now too? She seems to be ok, so I don't know.

Note to self: fish oil capsules attract curious pets.

*Broodle--half Poodle, half Brussels Griffon. She looks like a black version of "Verdell" from the movie As Good As It Gets.

Closet Nazi

Those aren't just trash bags, they're

drum liners!

That's not trash, it's $1000's of dollars worth of really good clothes.

Yesterday someone told me she'd "had it" with my closet and forced me to clean it out.

She stood over me like a child. She took bins filled with random, mismatched crap and physically dumped the contents onto the floor in front of me. She had been threatening to do this for some time. She is technically our housekeeper, I suppose, but she's much more than that really...she's like my mom on a bad day when she'd reached her limit. She's lovely, really.

My husband and I have separate closets, so there's no real incentive to keep it organized like before when he would move my stuff around when I failed to pick it up or hang it, so I've really allowed it to get totally out of hand.

I've been hoarding my skinny clothes thinking I'll be that tiny again some day and yesterday I

embraced my curves. I really haven't cared that I'm not still a 4 and actually love being able to eat and drink freely and I'm really good with where my body seems to have leveled off at my current size 10. I'm a very tall gal and it works for me. For some reason though, perhaps because I LOVE my clothes, I just couldn't let the skinny go.

After one of my skinny friends came over and took the few pieces she just had to have, I packed everything up for a trip to the consignment store and what they don't take will go to Goodwill.

I'm hoping to be able to have some Christmas money now as I even removed all of my husband's "gay" shoes. You see, he had this obsession with Prada shoes a few years ago and bought about six pair which he was still wearing last year until one of my friends told him Prada was gay and now he's hasn't put even one pair on since...sigh... So funny, but now I just see dollar signs.

The bottom line for me though is liberating: the skinny has left the building and I'm a smoking size 10 with room in my closet for clothes that flaunt my curves.

I feel great and just look at my closet now:

UN-Real Obsession

Here goes perhaps my most embarrassing confession ever...

I am secretly (well, it was a secret) addicted to The Real Housewives on Bravo. Seriously, somebody save me from myself. I'm fairly certain I get a little dumber every time the credits roll, yet I have a complete inability to turn away. Ok, ok, I check the on-screen guide every day I'm home and if it's on, I totally watch it and that's not even considering the fact that I DVR them too.

I'm so ashamed. Is there a support group?