Conspicuously Invisible

It all started when Son wandered in and casually announced that he was going to go take a shower. Voluntarily. With soap and water and everything. Naturally, my response was to immediately go look for the phone book. As I was looking up the number of a good mental health professional, and wondering if my allergy meds were responsible for this obvious hallucination, it hit me; Son has been spending a LOT of time lately on his bike cruising the neighborhood. He has suddenly stopped feigning illness every school day, stopped claiming that the school bus is nothing more than Hell's taxi cab, and last week I caught him looking in a mirror. On purpose.

This could mean only one thing. I just wondered if he'd volunteer the information or if I'd have to probe for the girl's name. Fortunately, Son was feeling talkative.

"Mom, you have no idea how hard it is to notice someone without them noticing you're noticing."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Is there someone in particular you're trying to notice, unnoticed?"

Heavy sigh. "Yeah. I was trying to take her picture with my cell phone but I think she saw me."

The horror. Son went on to lament with disgust the difficulties of taking good pictures while pretending to nonchalantly make a phone call. Then he said, "You have no idea, Mom. You had it so much easier when you were a kid."

"I did?"

"Yeah, you could take pictures all you wanted and no one would ever know." I pondered that a moment, wondering how on earth he thought pulling out a camera, waiting for the flash to be ready, and snapping the picture was in any way inconspicuous. I gave up.

"What makes you think no one could tell we were taking pictures?"

"Oh, they could tell you were taking pictures, but with that hood over your head no one would be able to tell it was you."

That's what he thinks. Protecting my identity was next to impossible once I set my hair on fire with the flash.

Tagged. A Meme. (Does it rhyme with 'Amen'?)

It seems I was tagged by Ronni to do this meme. (Question, where did that word come from, anyway? And how is it pronounced? Is it because it's about me, me? I have no idea.) Unlike most meme's this one appears to have no theme, no set questions, no rhyme and no reason. Just seven random facts about me, me.

1. When I was a child, I was absolutely terrified of the Pirates of the Carribean ride at Disney Land. This was not due to a fear of the Carribean, nor was it due to a fear of pirates; in fact I rather liked the idea of becoming a pirate when I grew up. I still may do just that. You never know. No, my fear has its roots in that time Dad told me to hold my breath when we went down the hills during the ride because we were, in fact, going under water. I nearly asphyxiated myself. When I asked Dad after the ride (and after I caught my breath) why we weren't wet, having spent all that time under water and all, he explained that in the Magic Kingdom they have magic water which dries immediately. I believed this wholeheartedly.

So, random fact number one: I am very gullible. Also, I'm afraid of boats and water. Coincidence? I think not. (Note: Mom only recently became aware of this little event in my life and was horrified to learn that my father had scared me like that. I knew I should have ridden next to her in that boat!)

2. I have a genetic abnormality that prevented me from having a full set of wisdom teeth. I had only one and was told if it hadn't come in by the time I turned 30 it never would. Naturally, six months before my 30th birthday, on New Year's Eve, I was in a dentist's office having an emergency extraction of my one little wisdom tooth.

3. No people in my life have ever brought me more joy, more exasperation, and more laughter than my husband and our son. Though my parents and brothers run a close second. I'm also quite fond of the Godiva Chocolate's people.

4. If you eat mayonnaise in my presence there is an excellent chance I will throw up on you. If you cut my sandwich with a knife that has been used to cut another sandwich that did have mayonaise, I will not be able to eat my own sandwich. I don't care what you say; you can't scrape it off, it IS that much (one mayonnaise molecule can infect an entire sandwich. It's true. It is too.) And though I concede that it may not actually kill me to taste it, I'm not taking any chances.

5. My mother believes I invented Velcro. Or at the very least, I identified the need for it. This is because as a child I refused to tie my shoes. Ever. (Also I could never quite manage to get the heels of my socks on my heels. They ended up on top of my feet every time. But that's a different issue.) One day in frustration, I apparently announced that when I grew up I was going to invent shoelaces that would just stick to themselves so I could just slap them together. So there you go. Velcro on kids' shoes. You're welcome.

6. I would sell off every possession I have before I would sell my books. I need books like I need to breathe.

7. I've never really understood the point of Barbie dolls. They don't do anything. Baby dolls could be strolled around the neighborhood, I could pretend to feed them and put them to bed. It made sense. All Barbie can do is change her clothes, ride around in her car and hang out with men without jobs. Not coincidentally, I've never understood the point of Britney Spears.

So now I guess I get to tag someone. I choose Abby, Lisa and Todd.

The Year in Review: Good News / Bad News

So, here we are. March. It's been a long year. To sum up:

JANUARY
Week one: Finding myself in need of Hubs' assistance, I call his cell phone. He doesn't answer, but thoughtfully, he sends a text message:

In a meeting.

I text back:

In a car accident.

Good news: Son is safe at home at the time and no one else is seriously hurt.

Bad news: I do get a concussion. Which brings us to:

Week two: Concussion from car accident + emerging from a hot bath + tile floor = Broken nose. Never have I looked more lovely. (Note to the people at work, the store, and at church: The question, "Did your husband beat you up?" is neither original nor funny. Nor likely, since the last time I saw Hubs make a fist he had his thumb tucked inside. Do you see his hand in a cast? DO YOU? I didn't think so.)

Good news: I can still breathe through my mouth!

Bad news: When I speak, I sound like the secret love-child of Darth Vader and Fran Drescher.

Week three: Surgery to reduce the nasal fracture.

Good news: Two days off work!

Bad news: Ever had your nose packed? Or worse, unpacked? Ouch. Still, TWO DAYS OFF WORK! Totally worth it.

Week four: As I drive Son to an appointment, a tire blows out.

Good news: We have Roadside Assistance and I somehow remembered my cell phone!

Bad news: Due to adverse weather conditions, we're told the wait will be eight hours. Eight hours. In the adverse weather conditions. Because it's January, in Utah, where we aren't the best drivers even during GREAT weather conditions. "Ice on the roads? Awesome! We should drive three times as fast, in as many different lanes as possible and see if we can achieve flight!" Huh. As I think about it, eight hours may be a somewhat optimistic estimate.

FEBRUARY

Week One: I get a phone call from the school. Son is fine, but he's bleeding quite a lot and can I please come and get him before the secretary passes out?

Good news: Mom works for a pediatrician and we can get right in to get Son's finger stitched back together.

Bad news: Son interprets "Keep the stitches dry" as "You never have to shower again!"

Week Two: Hubs and I are stranded in a blizzard. In the car. All night. (Upcoming entry on this event because, oh my gosh, you can't even believe how bizarre this night is.)

Good news: The road is closed and I can't go to work! Yay! Hubs and I are exhausted after being out all night and we need the time to sleep.

Bad news: The road is closed and the neighborhood kids can't go to school. They CAN, however, play outside in the snow! While screaming. Loudly. With the loud screaming screams. All. Day. Long.

Week Three: I find out at my follow-up visit that the surgery for the nasal fracture was unsuccessful. They'll have another crack at it in April.

Good news: More time off work!

Bad news: More packing. More unpacking. Oy.

Week Four: Parent Teacher Conference.

Good news: My sitting next to Son every day after school doing every assignment with him should result in his being nearly caught up!

Bad news: If Son didn't actually turn the assignments in? He didn't get credit for the work. WHO KNEW? Son is, of course SHOCKED by this development. You'd think someone might have warned him about this. Oh wait. Someone did. His teachers and his parents.

MARCH

Week One:
After months of warning Son that the state of his toothpaste tube suggests that he either never brushes his teeth or has discovered the secret to self-replenishing dental hygeine products, we go to the dentist expecting dire results.

Good news: Somehow, Son has no cavities!

Bad news: Son now believes my other warnings about acne, dandruff and the downside of smelling like a mountain troll in a sauna are worthless.

Week Two: Hubs finally finds time to hang some pictures around the house.

Good news: I finally have some pictures hanging around the house!

Bad news: One of them is hanging over the hole he had to make in the wall to repair the pipe he drilled through.

So, yeah. 2008? So far so...well, let's not tempt fate.