Black Mold

Poola, you think YOU had a day yesterday… Yesterday, I had an earthquake, a Weiner mobile, AND linguini with clam sauce, all before 8:00 p.m. HARRRR!!! Just kidding. It was marinara sauce. (“clam sauce” just always sounds more funnier (ha) for some reason.) Also, I had a meatball, but I didn’t want to mention it to my vegetarian friend.

Hubz called me from work yesterday, he says, I’m getting off work at a decent hour (he’s on daylight), let’s enjoy this beautiful day together… Because he’s a sensitive goober like that. He started enjoying the beautiful day, by picking up a load of hay in the back of the Ess-One-Oh, on the way home. And then his brakes went out. In Western Pennsylvania. That is definitely not enjoyable. You tend to want to have some brakes in Western Pennsylvania. How he got home, I don’t know. But he did, in one piece, and then he looked under the truck to find his brake line blown. He says it’s a pain to repair. So…. Fuggggggg…

I made him leave the stupid truck, and take me out to the auction. Because I’m sensitive like that. And then the auction was a total and complete, junky-ass waste of time. They were selling such amazingly awful CRAP that they didn’t even take it in their nice facility, they held the auction out in the parking lot! I think it’s because the stuff was too dirty, musty, dusty. We walked through it once, turned around, and walked out. It was stuff you wouldn’t send to Goodwill, you’d just put it right out in the trash, or light a propitious match. Whatever that means. I have propitious in my head.

I read a book yesterday, called “How Starbucks Saved My Life”. It wasn’t that good, not exactly hilarious, or earth-shatteringly insightful. I kept waiting for some big huge life lesson that never came. Mostly the author did an awful lot of name dropping (he’s had tea with the Queen of England, you know, like ya DO, he’s met, yawn, Frank Sinatra, and who else… Carrot Top? I don’t know, it was a big, boring list…) He was born into privilege, handed a big, corporate job, had tea with the Queen, and then lost everything, and found himself applying for a job at, oh the humanity, Starbucks. Boo hoo. The most interesting thing about it was the look inside the inner-workings of Starbucks, how they treat their employees and such. They give incredible benefits, to even part-timers, dental, eye care, and they pay for continuing education. If I understood it correctly. They also use a sorta “Starbucks Speak”, whereby they ASK you if you want to clean the bathrooms that day, as in “Hey Roberta, do me a favor, how you feelin’ about putting your Special Touch on the restrooms today?” or “Heya Josh, what do you think about those sprinkler heads (or other technical machine-parts term) on the cappuccino machine, think they could use some waxing (or polishing or other technical cleaning term). They ask you instead of tell you, to do disgusting stuff. Can you imagine that? Amazing. I shall institute this immediately with my own little crew here at home. Actually, I think I do speak that way to them, especially the girls. Yesterday Zack shocked me, he was sitting next to me on the floor, playing with his Star Wars guys, and I said, Zack, would you please step outside and check on the horses for me, make sure they’re not tangled or stuck (I was “mowing” out front all day yesterday. It’s hard work. I’ve given up on my husband mowing, he hasn’t trimmed ONCE this summer, so it’s up to the lil’ horses.), and he jumped up and said in a quite pleasant manner, “Sure!”, and ran out and did it! What the hell was THAT? He always ALWAYS complains and makes a fuss about any little thing I ask him to do. I hope it’s a trend. But not holding my breath.

After the BLACK MOLD auction, we went out to dinner. Hubz had a hot sausage, I had the meatball. It was a sexy dinner, eh? After dinner we picked the kids up and headed out for the airport. Beane’s flight came in right on time, her luggage was there, Angela’s luggage was there, bingo bango, we’re out of the airport in about 20 minutes flat! An airport MIRACLE. They had a fantastic time in Florida, and only TWO TATTOOS were acquired, one by Angela, and one by Angela’s grandmother. Whew! (Beane bought a couple henna kits instead. NOT that I have anything against tattoos, it’s just, well, I wish she’d wait a while…or something) Ang and her grandma got matching yellow roses, Ang’s by her bellybutton, Grandma’s is on her boob! Cool Grandma!

Beane met a guy on the beach, he was a jeweler. Like ya DO. He looked at the antique watch she’s been wearing, she got it at a flea market for $2.00. It’s exactly like my grandmother’s watch, the one I have on a chain, except hers is round, mine is octagon, and mine has a tiny blue jewel on the winder-thing. (Sorry for using such highly technical watchmaker terms here, I’m showing off again… ) She was wearing it like a bracelet, she just liked the way it looked. We didn’t even really entertain the idea that the watch would actually RUN. In fact, we’re so watch-ignorant, we asumed it took a battery! So the guy, he pops it open, fiddles around with it, shows her all the inner-workings, there are actual RUBIES inside the watch, as part of the workings!, and then he winds it up and it runs! It sounds so cool, you can hear all the little gears working inside. He told he if she got it cleaned, it might actually keep decent time. Right now it’s running slow. But she’s really tickled with it. Me, I’m tickled that she appreciates cool-ass little shizzle like that. And also that she wanted a watch like mine. Actually, this is the second watch she’s got that’s like a watch of mine. For graduation she wanted a watch instead of a class ring, and she ended up picking one out almost identical to my Citizen’s watch. It’s the little things, you know, with your kids… They may act like you’re the biggest, most unreasonable MORON most of the time, but then they go and do little stuff like pick out the same exact watch as you…

I tried winding my grandmother’s watch, but it’s jammed, or over-wound or something. But it makes me want to have it looked at and cleaned. Beane’s jeweler friend said her watch was worth about $200! Not that she’d part with it, but it was just a cool little added bonus.

Beane and Ang actually went out to dinner with this guy and his cousin, they had a dinner date with guys they met on the beach! Which raised the hair on the back of my neck, or course. But Grandma had been there at the beach, and actually the guys’ whole family was there on the beach that day, they met everyone… So they had the Grandma stamp of approval… But still… Anyways, Beane said they were complete gentlemen, they were actually quite wealthy (Beane surmised this from their cool car and their gigantic, shiny watches…) , they had a lovely dinner, with adult conversation. These girls are used to going out with a bunch of friends, goofing around, or having hotdogs over a bonfire. I think it was good for her to go out with more mature guys, because GIRLFRIEND is pretty jaded about immature guys, lemme tellya. She’s been actually kinda bitter and… I don’t know… how you say… bitchy? lately on the subject of guys…. I don’t know, she’s mature in some ways, WAY MATURE, and she hasn’t met anyone really who has their shit together. They’re always too needy, or they don’t have a job, or a license, or any ambition… Or they’re TOO NICE, like a doormat, or they’re stupid, or they like STAR WARS or HOCKEY, or VIDEO GAMES, or they don’t know how to “conversate”, or their values are fucked… On one hand, I want her to meet someone older, with a job and stuff. On the other hand, I don’t know, not ready for older boyfriend. Or are we? Maybe then I could relax, if I know she’s with someone more mature. Or could I? Sigh. This parenting thing never gets any easier.

My neck feels dirty. Like it used to when I was 10 and wouldn’t take a bath. (I’d go in the bathroom, stand in the tub fully clothed, and run the water over my feet. Fake bathing. Did you do that when you were 10?) Well, I’m not fake bathing anymore, I do bathe, but my neck feels dirty, right in that little triangle space over my throat. Maybe it was the auction.

Very exciting and newsworthy, the kids for some reason, grabbed Chicken when we were getting in the car, and brought him along to the airport. He was not happy in the car, the kids were spazzing out, so excited to have a CAT in a CAR, and Chicken’s freaking, and I’m yelling, “Calm the hell DOWN, you’re making the cat nervous!!” It was not a fun ride. Chicken held out until we were literally 40 seconds from our drive-way, and then, rather anti-climactically, pooped all over the back seat. Which, Zack was dying of laughter, even though he was sitting right by the enormous, really rather impressive poop, he’s laughing his ass off, I’m screaming, Franki is falling out of her seat, Beane is shrieking and mass-exodussing up front, and Hubz is pulling in the drive-way, big grin on his face, happy as a clam to have his daughter home, and to have actual, working brakes in the car.

Ok, that’s all the news that’s worth printing, and some that ain’t, and I am off. Like a dirty shirt.

Tags: antique watch, auctions, black mold, Starbucks, tattoos