Post on a Post

I almost took the previous post down because it's misleading. It's not that the things I said were UNtrue. It was an honest post. However, looking back on it, and it's been a while since I've peeked at my own blog, the phrase "I lie all the time," is an exaggeration. I don't lie all the time. In fact, I tell the truth most of the time. On occasion, I lie. On occasion, I present myself in a false manner, which is much like lying. I used the phrase "all the time" because I was being dramatic. Imagine that.

What I realized about myself is that I am in the wrong to judge another for lying when I, too, am not only capable of it, but can lie with the best of them if I choose. Which I have.

But I am not a liar. And I don't hate liars. Another dramatic statement.

I do hate lies. My own, included.

So I'll leave the previous post up with this annoying post on a post, and hope for better posts to come.

Cheers.

Rehearsal: Day One

Election Day!

But on a less stressful note, guess who I'm singing duets with in Oliver?

Her name's Michelle, and she's Roxy in the musical, Chicago on Broadway. Or she was until she took time off to be in this show. Where I'm singing DUETS with her.

How cool is that?

OK, geek moment over.

Our first rehearsal was good today. I'm gettin', ahem...ge'ing my Cockney accent on.

Our Oliver and Dodger are the cutest little guys you ever saw with really great voices and really great hair.

I met a guy named Neil, who is our Fagin, and when he introduced himself to me, I didn't know whether he'd been on B'way or not. Since he was Fagin, one of the LEADS, I figured: probably. But when I started to ask him, I thought twice about it because what if I asked, "So what Broadway show did you just finish?" and then what if he said, "Uh...never been on Broadway." I would feel awful for making him say that, so what happened kind of went like this.

Neil: Hello. You're our Bet?

Me: Yes! Hi, I'm Amber.

Neil: Hi. Neil.

Me: So...what...uh...(and here is where I thought twice)...brings..... Uh.

NEIL: What brings me here?

ME: Haha. Probably the same thing that brought me here.... Yeah.

He kind of laughed.

ME: So...wherrrre...arrrre you from, Neil?

NEIL: New York.

ME: Grew up here?

NEIL: Yep. Born and raised.

ME: Great! (And I'm thinking, Dangit. He's probably this big Broadway star and I should know who he is and I don't and I've insulted him. I should have just asked what Broadway show he did. Change the subject, dufus.) I really like your glasses.

Ugh. That was stupidly painful.

But yeah, he's done a few things here or there.

Anyways, rehearsal was fun.

Confession: Nanny No-No

What's wrong with me?

I'm babysitting my friend's little boy this week, remember - the heart stealer?. He and I were running errands yesterday, after undergoing the painful process of getting a one-year-old AND his stroller down a flight of stairs in a walk-up building, out two heavy doors, and down another mini-flight of stairs outside.

When we came to a corner and waited for the street light to change at the crosswalk (my rulebook for walking in NYC is modified with babies in my care), a guy sitting on a fire hydrant (couldn't tell you why he was sitting on a fire hydrant) says hi to my friend's curly haired, blue eyed toddler.

He says in a manner much to personal for strangers on the streets of New York City, "Hey little guy! Hi! Ohhhh...WOW!...what beautiful eyes!"

Then the stranger looks at me and says, "WOW! Congratulations!"

Now, aside from the fact that that is the weirdest way to say somebody's baby is cute, like the parents have won some providential prize or something, overlooking that fact, I say with a sheepish grin,

"Thanks."

The light changed. I got my white walking man. I crossed the street.

THANKS? Thanks. THANKS! What? Now why in the world did I take credit for a baby that's not mine?!?! I've been thinking about this long and hard since yesterday, because the second I said thanks and crossed the street, I debated turning around and saying, Ummm...actually.... And though I myself KNOW I am not in any way, shape, or form a nut nanny, I can't help but think: Hand That Rocks the Cradle.

I realize I committed the biggest babysitter crime EVER.

So it's necessary I evaluate the possible reasons I would commit such a hanus crime, and here's what I've come up with.

I'm either

A) A nut nanny

B) A woman whose biological clock is ticking and...it's about. that. time.

or

C) A suspicious New Yorker who just wanted to get across the street without telling a strange man her life story.

I'm gonna go with C.

That has to be it.

City Sights

I don't have pictures for some of these:

**A woman in a bright pink button down blouse and white dress pants with a large white "Coach" or something of the sort handbag, lying on the ground, face down in the flowers that are sold on the side of the corner mart. She lifts her head, clearly drunk, and tells us over and over how her husband is such a jerk. Her well-to-do husband comes out of the corner store, sees his wife, shakes his head, and exclaims in a heavy New York accent, "What's wrong with you?!?!"

**A man in the back seat of a cab with its window rolled down yells to the driver, "STOP HERE. HERE!!! YOU DON'T KNOW WHERE YOU'RE GOING!!...YES I DO! OH I'LL TELL YOU WHY!!! BECAUSE I'M AN AMERICAN, THAT'S WHY!!!" He gets out of the cab and storms away.

I saw this guy, from the TV show House, crossing the street. Love that show.



And this guy, going into a gym.



This nifty little Smart Car, which I absolutely love.



And as I was shlepping across town for auditions the other day, I caught a glimpse of myself in one of the the shiny windows. It was the first cool day we had, on the windy side, and I forgot that on days like those you need a scarf. I improvised.

Driving a Standard

Starting the 13 hour drive to Kentucky today. Stopping at Seth's parents for dinner and good night's sleep. We celebrated my sister-in-law's birthday last night. And now I'm off to Target for the last bit of essentials. Man, I love Target. Target is the bomb dot com of all supermarkets. I also went to (drum roll please) Chick-fil-A the first chance I got. Mmmmmm.

For my sister-in-law's birthday, I got her a real cute bag and put lots of random stuff in it, like jellies. (gellies?) Remember those? They were on sale at Target. I bought myself a pair, too, and I'm wearing them today and I can't wait.


I learned to drive a standard. We're driving my brother's car to Kentucky, and it's a standard. My dad took me out and taught me, and I learned it pretty quickly, if I do say so myself. Except then later, when driving to dinner around rush hour time, I thought I'd show off my new driving skills. So four of us piled into the little car. Me in the driver's seat. Dad front passenger side. Mom and Seth in the back. Seth hadn't seen me drive yet. I was ready to show him how cool I looked driving a standard.

Except that I came to a stop on a HILL, wedged between a long line of cars in both directions. I had to keep inching forward on the hill because we were all waiting for people to turn left. I was scared to death because I had only practiced on a hill in our neighborhood with nobody around. My dad said just do everything normal. Just do it quicker so you don't roll into the person behind you.

So I went into first gear quicker, except I also pounded on the gas every time because I was scared, so everytime we moved I squealed the tires like a bat outa hell and went two inches and had to stop again. This happened I think six times in a row. My dad kept yelling at me to stop and I kept yelling at him to stop stressing me out. And mom and Seth were laughing in the backseat. And some funny smell started seeping out from the car.

I had on bad shoes, OK? They were weird flip flop like shoes. When I learned and practiced on the hill in our neighborhood I was wearing gellies. So obviously, the shoes were bad. I'll just wear my jellies when we drive to Kentucky.

My brother and his wife gave me a late b-day present. A book of poetry by Brian Andreas. I love love love it and was up way too late reading it last night. Here's one I like:

Whenever she stood
in line at the bank
or while waiting
for the bus, I noticed
her feet.
The right always in
front and perpendicular
to the left just so.

Even after 2
children she
still dreamed
of being a
dancer.

Title: Ballerina Mom

And looked what happened in New York today. Yeesh.

Schmooze City

Well, fancied friends, I have once and for all been introduced to High Class USA. A night of shmooze is what I attended last night. All for a good cause, mind you. But shmooze, none the less.

My friend invited me as a guest to a benefit for ACD research: a cocktail party with hor d’oeuvers and specialty drinks, a silent and live auction, after party lounge with champagne and desert, and drum roll please, a concert by Kristen Chenoweth. You can imagine my glee when my friend texted me and asked me to attend. Kristen Chenoweth?!?! Oh boy. My friend (who does my hair) was doing Kristen's hair for the event. So I texted back Yes! and she said they'd email me an invitation.

I never received an email invitation, so yesterday I called my friend to get the details and to tell her I didn't receive the invitation. She said they'd send it, but she didn't really believe that they would. Lo and behold, at around 4 PM, I checked my email and what did I find? An invitation attached to an email which read,

Our apologies Amber. We thought you had this information..

You are confirmed for 1 seat for the show. The attached document will give you any information you need. Otherise, please email....

Thanks! We look forward to seeing you tonight!

...Well! Thank you! I graciously accept your apology! I look forward to seeing you tonight, whoever you might be.

And then I realized. I don't really know what ACD is, and if I'm attending a benefit for ACD research I better know what it is, right? So I googled, "What is ACD?" , and here's what I found:

"ACD stands for Automatic Call Distribution. It is a service that enables a call to be placed on hold until an employee is available to take the call."

Surely not. Surely I'm not attending a benefit for telephone technology? So I looked again and found this:

"What is a CD? We are all familiar with a CD, but what exactly is it?"

Hmmm. Not very helpful.

The invitation also said "Broadway concert cocktail attire a must." Ohhhh-kaaaay. Broadway cocktail? What the heck does that mean? I asked my friend, and she didn't know either. I searched my closet and found a black and white dress, or I could go with a red dress.... Geesh. Which one should it be? Seth finally said the red dress might look like I was trying real hard to draw attention to myself, so I went with the black and white dress. It was an excellent choice. I would have looked like the last burning flame amongst the ashes in that red dress. Thank God I didn't wear it.

My friend had to be at the benefit hours early to get Kristin ready, so I arrived alone. In fact, I spent a good bit of the evening alone surrounded by very shmoozy people. I didn't know what to do, except just walk around or stand at the bar. Once I perused the silent auction table and pretended like I had a lot of money. That was fun.... Once I sat next to a woman who looked nice and started talking to her. She was a doctor, and then I found out what ACD was. It's a respiratory disease that babies are born with. Their lungs don't operate properly, and they usually die within 2 months from suffocating.

OK, so not a telephone technology benefit. That was confirmed.

These people were at the party.

Actor Bradley Whitford
Writer/Producer Aaron Sorkin
I didn't talk to those guys.

Actor NiCole Robinson
I talked to her but I think I called her Amy. Dang it.

And finally, the lovely, Kristin Chenoweth.

Who is the epitome of effervescent joy on stage, and wow, what a singer.

I took a picture with Kristen and got her autograph. I told her she was lovely. She told me I looked lovely. I told her the story of how I met some of her relatives on a plane ride to Tulsa, OK. She said she had lots of relatives and had no idea who I was talking about.

I think we could be great friends.

Thank you, Kathy, for a wonderful night!

Characters

Cast of Characters:

DAD - a logical, extremely smart yet quirky character, governed by reason and funny without trying to be.

MOM - sweet and innocent, yet wise and discerning. Loves to laugh. Likes to be silly. Particularly likes to laugh with me and Brother at Dad.

BROTHER - deep thinker, does randomly weird things on purpose. Likes to laugh. Likes to observe. Particularly likes to laugh with me and Mom at Dad.

BROTHER'S WIFE - deep thinker and seemingly quiet, but not really. Can eat a horse and never gain a pound.

SETH - my husband, creative and funny. Incredibly discerning. Sharp eyes and sharp wit.

ME - doesn't care to write descriptions of herself.

*****************
A conversation with my family at dinner. The family sits at a round table for 6 in the front corner of the restaurant.

ME: (to Brother's Wife) How can you eat all that and stay so thin?

BROTHER'S WIFE: I don't know! I'm sure it'll catch up with me someday.

DAD: (full from a great meal, leans back in his chair, looks at Mom and pats his belly. In a high falsetto, says) Hoo!

MOM: (Laughs and imitates him) Hoo! Ha ha! (looks at me sitting on her other side) Did you hear Dad? He just went "Hoo!" Charles, you sounded like Al Capone in that movie! (She laughs) You know that movie where he's driving that car and he's blind.

DAD: (perplexed) No.

ME: Al Capone? Mom, not Al Capone, it's Al.... (turns to Seth on her other side) Seth, Mom just said Al Capone played in that movie where's he's blind. But it's not Al Capone! It's Al....Al...what is it?

SETH: (dryly) Al Pacino

ME: Al Pacino! (turns to Mom) Al Pacino, Mom! Not Al Capone! (I laugh)

MOM: Al Pacino! Oh! (She laughs) What's that movie again, where he goes "Hoo!"?

ME: No, not "Hoo!" It's "Hoo-yah!"

MOM: Oh yeah. "Hoo-yah!" "Hoo-yah!"

ME: "Hoo-yah!"

MOM: What's the movie?

SETH: (shakes his head) It's "Hoo-AH"

ME: Oh! Oops. "Hoo-AH"

MOM: "Hoo-AH"

SETH: (again, dryly) Scent of a Woman. (turns to Brother and Brother's wife on his other side) Amber does that stuff all the time. Just the other day she was trying to call something "rinky dink" and she called it "dinky rinky." Ya know, a mix between "rinky dink" and "winky dinky."

(All laugh)

DAD: (to Mom) I know, Betty. When you said Al Capone I couldn't figure out what you were talking about. I thought, what did you just watch, The Fugitives?

(All confused)

SETH: (Looks at Dad, eyes squint, slight smile, slightly shakes his head) The Untouchables.

DAD: Oh, that's right, The Untouchables.

(All laugh, except Dad.)

ME: (laughing, to Seth) See where I get it?

(All at the table laugh harder...except Dad. He calmly watches every one laugh.)

SETH: (to Brother and Brother's Wife) Yeah. Like, a while back, we're at the airport in...where were we, Amber?

ME: I don't know. I don't remember. Atlanta or something.

SETH: We were flying Southwest into the airport and she says, "Yeah, I think this airport is a major hubbub." instead of "hub." She was trying to say it was a major Southwest Airlines hub.

(All at the table laugh...except Dad, who is a frequent Southwest Rapid Reward flyer, turns his head sharply to look at me and says, completely serious)

DAD: Atlanta? No, no.

Public Transportation...

is the bomb-dot-com. ESPECIALLY when it's FREE!!!!

FREE shuttle to Ikea. From New York City to Elizabeth, NJ. Non-stop. And returning. Absolutely FREE!!!


Have you ever eaten at Ikea? Pretty darn tasty. I highly recommend the Swedish Meatballs, and the Chocolate Mousse Cake. Because it's all pretty delicious. Oh yeah, and HALF THE PRICE. How do you do it, Ikea? Really, how do you do it?

A fancied future field trip: A Saturday lunch date to Ikea in New Jersey. It would be the cheapest date of all. Hey, it could even be a Valentines date if you bought those cute little Ikea ice cube trays that freeze the ice in x's and o's.

Except Valentine's Day is on Thursday, not Saturday, and the shuttle is only free on Saturday and Sunday.

I love you, Ikea.

Caution: Proactive Provides Damaging Solutions

This is the stuff I use to wash my face. As you can very well see, Jessica Simpson uses it, too. At least she says she does. At least she makes bazookoos of money saying she does. But, I'm wondering...does it bleach Jessica's eyebrows, too?

A curious phenomenom is occurring on my face. The very top of my eyebrows (usually brown, naturally to match my hair) are turning bleach blond. But it's just the top of my eyebrows. So right now my eyebrows are somewhat two-toned.

I first noticed this about two months ago when talking to Seth. As he pretended to listen to me ramble on about whatever, his focus kept shifting from my eyes to my eyebrows. I finally stopped to ask.

"What are you looking at?"

Seth furrowed his own brow, ultimately perplexed. "Your eyebrows are changing colors."

"My eyebrows are changing colors?"

He studied my eyebrows intensely. "Yeah, just the top."

"What?" I reached for the mirror in my bag. "Oh, weird. Yeah, they're changing colors. Maybe's its the way the sun hits them in New York when I have my sunglasses on." (Hey, it was the best I could come up with.)

I resumed telling my story, but not without intermittent pauses as I waited while Seth sat distracted by my eyebrows.

Then, as I talked to my mom on a recent visit to Oklahoma, she stopped me mid-sentence and moved closer to examine my face.

"Amber, did you know your eyebrows are changing colors?" she asked, quite concerned. Then she laughed.

"OK. This is ridiculous. Yes, I know my eyebrows are changing colors. Is it that bad?"

Later my mom called. She had an idea. What if my facewash that I've been using for the past...oh...6 years or so has been accidentally getting into my eyebrows all this time, and now the effects are showing. And sure enough, as I washed my face that night, I saw that my facewash has been dripping into the top of my eyebrows...for 6 years!

So I'm wondering if Jessica has this problem, too, and what she's doing to remedy it. I don't want to change my facewash. I like it. It works. But I can't go walking around with two-toned eyebrows. Jessica, you're the only one who can help. Save me. What do I do?

What's Your Name?

Saw this on 4andcounting's blog and couldn't resist.

1. YOUR ROCK STAR NAME:
(first pet & current car)

Tyra Ford

2.YOUR GANGSTA NAME:
(fave ice cream flavor, favorite cookie)

Mint Chocolate Chip Chocolate Chip

3. YOUR “FLY Guy/Girl” NAME:
(first letter of first name, first three letters of last name)

Awar

4. YOUR DETECTIVE NAME:
(favorite color, favorite animal)

Red Dog

5. YOUR SOAP OPERA NAME:
(middle name, city where you were born)

Christina Moore

6. YOUR STAR WARS NAME:
(the first 3 letters of your last name, first 2 letters of your first)

WarAm

7. SUPERHERO NAME:
(”The” + 2nd favorite color, favorite drink)

The Green Mojito

8. NASCAR NAME:
(the first names of your grandfathers)

Skeeter Floyd

10.WITNESS PROTECTION NAME:
(mother’s & father’s middle names )

Jean Ross

11. TV WEATHER ANCHOR NAME:
(Your 5th grade teacher’s last name, a major city that starts with the same letter)

Fry Florence

12. SPY NAME:
(your favorite season/holiday, flower)

Christmas Gerber Daisy

13. CARTOON NAME:
(favorite fruit, article of clothing you’re wearing right now + “ie” or “y”)

Apple Pajamasie

14. HIPPIE NAME:
(What you ate for breakfast, your favorite tree)

Bagel Magnolia

15. YOUR ROCKSTAR TOUR NAME:
(”The” + Your fave hobby/craft, fave weather element + “Tour”

The Dance Breeze Tour

Riddle Me This (4)

Fancy: If it rains one more time in this forsaken town...I swear it's gonna be like that movie...what's the name of that movie?...The one with Kevin Costner...Aqua Land? Somethin' like that.

Seth: Um. Water World?

Fancy: Yes.

*********************************************

I can't remember the context of this next one, but it's the newly created word "submotage" as in:

The office employee brainstormed ways to "submotage" his co-worker competing for the raise.

Spearmint?

I should drink more water. It's the best thing for you. Good for your skin, good for weight control, good for your overall health, and good for my sadly dehydrated vocal chords from 2 cups of coffee every morning.

But here's my problem. I think drinking water is boring. It doesn't taste very good, just plain. So I thought I'd branch out and try some of that flavored spring water I've been seeing at Target.

Of all the bottled water for sale on the shelf at Target, of all the Ozarka, Dasani, and Evian. Of all the different flavors, watermelon kiwi, mixed berry, grape.....why in the h### did I choose "Unsweetened Spearmint"?

Unsweetened Spearmint?

What was I thinking?

This stuff is disgusting.

Why did I think that water that tastes like minty gum would taste refreshing? Dumb dumb dumb.

I am so mad that I spent 3 bucks on four plastic spearment flavored spring water bottles that are bound together with such tough plastic material that it takes 5 minutes with the scissors to loose just one.

I am so annoyed at myself for not being able to enjoy my water. Just stick with Ozarka, people. Good ole' natural flavored spring water.

Riddle Me This (2)

1) Prior to Seth's doctoral comprehensive exams:

Mom: What did you guys do last night?

Me: Well, I stayed up and read while Seth studied. He was burnin' the midnight hour, let me tell ya.

Mom: Oh, really?....?

2) After Seth passed his doctoral comprehensive exams:

Seth: Man, I am SO glad those are over.

Me: Yeah, no kidding. But I'm really proud of you. I mean, you worked hard, really put the iron to the...oh wait,
this isn't gonna be right...iron to the mill?

I caught myself that time.

The Crack Show

We are addicted to 24. The show. We have 24 marathons. It rocks. We're only on Season 3 so I will not be clicking on the comments link in case any of you think it's funny to tell me what happens in Season 4, 5, or 6.

Season 3 is by far the best. My stomach actually aches from the intensity, and I'm not kidding. Or maybe it's just queasy. Season 3 is about a bio threat. I won't say anymore.

Last night during a 24 marathon date with Seth, I found myself praying for Michelle.

Michelle is a character in the show.

This is getting ridiculous.

If you all watch the show and would like to discuss, feel free. I will not be clicking on the comment link, just so you know.

The Bachelor in Sugar Land, TX

Woah. Woah. Woah.

Fancied friends, I am about to admit to you a little secret that Seth and I share. But it must be revealed so I can share this very weird but exciting circumstance with you.

As of this year, Seth and I now watch.....The Bachelor.

I know, I know. I slap myself every time, but it comes on after Dancing with the Stars, and you know I can't possibly miss THAT. So what do I do when, while glued to the couch dialing the number for my favorite dancing star, The Bachelor shows me scenes from last week's episode. I can't just turn it off! No, no, this stuff is too juicy. It's too catty and ridiculous. I'm watching a sorority house gone utterly maniacal. Girls, girls, girls, crying girls, conniving girls, back-stabbing and malicious girls. And one officer and a gentleman: Andy.

Andy's actually pretty alright. A good guy. Of course, when you consider that he's dating 15, then 8, then 4, now 3 girls at a time, you have to wonder how gentleman-like the guy can be. But, hey, really, and I mean this. He seems like a very sincere guy who took a step of faith to find the woman of his dreams.

So in tonight's episode, Andy goes to each of the 4 girls' hometowns to meet their families. Talk about intense. These girls are all in love with Andy! And all crying about how they're in love with Andy. And then....me! I'm crying! Why am I crying!?!? Because these girls are introducing Andy to their dads, and then one is crying to her dad about how she doesn't want to get hurt, and then HER DAD is crying! Geesh. Reality television, how did we get here? Their pain is my entertainment.

Anyway, that's not my point.

The point is, that as I'm sure you know, one of these 4 girls, Amber, is from Sugar Land, TX. So we're watching, and....Hey! That's the restaurant by our apartment! And then, they're on a playground in a park....and then! They're leaving Amber's apartment, and I say. Seth! That's our apartment complex! The Bachelor was at our apartment complex! Oh my gosh! Wait, lemme check the doors and see if they match up. I run outside and look at our door. Exactly the same, except the number, of course.

Amber lives in my apartment complex!

You should know Amber did not get a rose tonight. She went home, devastated and alone. Poor Amber. Maybe I'll see her soon in my park, and we can have lunch, and we can talk about her roommate and her aunt and her love life. Then maybe I'll tell her that I'm sorry her parents weren't there to meet Andy, just because they didn't agree with Amber being on the show. What a shame. Then maybe I'll tell her how sorry I am that her pain was my entertainment. But then maybe I'll remind her that she signed up to be my entertainment, and ask her why she would do that.

Code 5

So I guess you're supposed to get you're driver's license renewed when you turn 28. Yeah, didn't know that.

I also didn't know that when you go to the airport and hand your boarding pass, along with your driver's license, to the man or woman blocking your way to the security scanner thingy, blocking your way to your gate, that the man or woman is not just checking for a name and face match. They are looking to see if your ID is current.

Mine wasn't.

Expired 4/28/2007.

The date was 5/1/2007. Only three days expired. You'd think they'd give me a break.

Nope.

Old wrinkled man trying to sound in charge: You got another form of ID? This is expired.

Me: What?! No, uh....no, I, uh.....no. (I search frantically in my purse.)

Old man: That's OK. Go ahead. (writes something on my boarding pass.)

Me: (thinking) Yes! He let me by! Sweet.

I take my shoes off. Take the little plastic baggy with small bottles of liquid out of my backpack. Put my shoes, purse, backpack, and little plastic baggy on the conveyor belt, and confidently walk through the security door frame, hand my boarding pass to a grey-haired man whose belly hangs over his belt, and sweetly smile.

He starts to hand it back, then does a double take at my boarding pass.

Belly Man: (thick Texan accent) Wup! I got a Code 5 here! I got a Code 5!

Me: (thinking) A what?!?!

African American, very strong and very tall woman: (yelling) WHAT? WHATCHA GOT? WHAT IS SHE? WHAT IS SHE?

Belly Man: Got a Code 5 here! Code 5!

Very strong woman: WHAT IS SHE? WHAT IS SHE?

Me: What am I? What am I?

Belly Man: Ma'am, just step right over here, please. On this mat. Place your feet on the outlined feet you see on the mat. Wait here.

Me: No, I will not put my bare feet on that nappy mat. (I stand next to the mat.)

Very strong woman: Ma'am, please put your feet on the mat.

Me: (quickly) OK.

I step on the mat wondering how many other nappy feet have been on the mat. I stand and wait, my legs set in a wide stance because my feet have to be on top of the outlined feet on the mat. I stand and wait, thinking that my feet are way too far apart and that it feels weird to stand this way.

Finally the woman pats me down, feeling for weapons, I guess. I try to imagine what it's like for her if she ever actually finds a weapon on someone. Maybe she starts yelling, "CODE 6! SHE'S A CODE 6! Or maybe she nonchalantly stands and slowly walks over to Belly Man, and he yells CODE 6! Or maybe she just throws down and tackles the perpetrator right then and there.

She tells me to watch my bags as they come out of the belt. She doesn't find any weapons. Whew! She takes me to my bags, where two people go through every single pocket and rub my things down with some sort of large cotton round, then run it through some Star Trek machine. I wonder what they're checking for. Traces of invisible chemical lethal substances? A sharp pointy thing lodged in my camera? Definitely probably checking for bombs.

All because I'm three days expired.

Then she says: What'd they get you for?

Me: Expired ID. Three days old.

She laughs and nods her head, like....yeah, thought so.

What, you mean I don't look like a person you should be patting down and screening? Huh, go figure.

Preoccupied

Preoccupy: v., dominate or engross the mind of (someone) to the exclusion of other thoughts. For example:

Fancy drives to the high school, hereafter referred to as...Whatever High School (??) to choreograph her teacher friend's choir. While Fancy drives she imagines dance moves and how they will fit into 8 consecutive bars of music. She hears the music in her head.

Hit me with a hot note and watch me bounce! Hit me with a hot note and watch me bounce!

Fancy arrives at Whatever High School and parks in the visitor parking lot.

When trumpEHHHHHTS heat up, gimme a rug to beat up.

Fancy walks through the parking lot to the front doors of Whatever High School. Different song now.

I like to be in Ame-ri-ca. OK by me in Ame-ri-ca. (With a Puerto Rican accent, of course)

Fancy walks to the office where the secretary asks if she can be of any help. Fancy replies, "Yes. I'm here to choreograph for Whatever High School."

And all that jazz! Da dee dee daaaah dah dum, da dee dee daaaah dah dum....(Gunk, gunk) And all that jazz!

Secretary: OK, if I could just see some photo ID please. Fancy: Sure, no problem.

Step, kick, step, kick, step, kick, POSE! Da dee dee step, kick, step, kick, step, kick, POSE!

Secretary: Where did you say you were going again?

Fancy: Whatever High School

Shoulder....knee, and 1 and 2 and

Secretary: (eyebrows scrunched in perplexing form with head to one side)

To do...LUNGE....that....HAND....jaaaaazzz

Fancy: (realizing she is being weirdly stared at and wondering why. She raises her eyebrows in questioning form)

Secretary: RIght. Whatever High School...what. Where in Whatever High School?

Fancy: (Then realizing that she is already IN Whatever High School, speaking to the secreatry OF Whatever High School who, quite naturally, KNOWS Fancy is in Whatever High School) Oh, sorry, um, the choir room. The choir room is where I will be going. Thanks.

Riddle Me This

The following is a conversation with my brother today on the phone:

Fancy: Mom and Dad can't fault me for wanting to move away from them.

Baca: Whadoyou mean?

Fancy: Well, think about it. Of all of Mom's 9 syblings, she's one of the few that moved away from her parents. She was the odd goose of the family.

Baca: The odd goose? (pause, chuckle, pause, laugh) You mean.....(laugh, laugh, laugh)

There's the riddle for you, friends. Care to try and solve? (Baca and Seth, you have to wait.)

Confessions of a Big Time Nerd

I should preface my post today with a few insignificant facts that prove to you that I am a smart person. Forgive me if it comes across as boasting. This is unintended. It's merely what you should know before I begin to reveal my idiosyncrasies and uber-quirkiness. So...

#1) I graduated at a relatively high rank in my high school class of 1,392. (OK, I was 12 out of 1392.)

#2) I graduated from Baylor University summa cum laude with a GPA of 3.96

#3) I like to read. I like to write. I like arithmatic.

I credit most of my grades to being a hard worker, diligent, thorough. Basically a nerd. I also have good genes. Both the parents are smart, so my brother and I turned out A-O-K.

But I also inherited something else from my parents. Well, just my mom, really. And that is the incredible talent of mistakenly combining two well-known idioms or phrases and by doing so completely getting it wrong. Or mixing up the words and letters so that what comes out of my mouth sounds like wacky jibber jabber. It's the very reason why I feel sorry for President Bush when David Letterman does his "Great Moments in Speeches" segment of his show.

Sometimes, dare I say usually, I don't realize what I've done until I notice the look on Seth's face. He looks off into the distance with a slight squint in his eyes and confounded look on his face, while his mouth is always slightly curved upward into a half smile, his lips silently repeating my slew of words or mixed up phrase. While I continue with what I deem worthy conversation, he suddenly blurts out what I meant to say, immediately followed by a burst of laughter, me realizing that yeah, that is what I meant to say, the conversation totally lost, me joining the laughing spell, all the while thinking, wow I really need to remember that one.

Seth says they're like riddles that he gets to figure out, some easier than others. So, I thought I'd let you try to figure some of them out. Here we go...

What did I mean to say when I said:

#1) "I don't know where the pen went. Did you check in all the crook and nannies?"

#2) "I can't believe how crowded that airport was. It was a real hubbub."

#3) "He was kidding the whole time, completely pulling my arm."

#4) "He was totally kidding, completely yanking my leg."

#5) "He was kidding the whole time, completely twisting my leg." (#3-5 are the death of me. I can never get them right. And anyways, only one really means to kid around but for some reason I just think you can mix and match.)

#6) "The town was a real honkey donk tank" (You'll never get this one. I can't believe I'm sharing this. I was even confounded as the phrase came out of my mouth.)

#7) (This one occurred today at the breakfast table, and I apologize if you are from Arkansas.) "We played in Arkansas during our tour, and man, driving through that place, it was just totally backsticks."

So there you go. Me in worst form. Good luck.