Status Update

My Cars 2 bandaid got wet, so I replaced it with an Angry Birds one. That one fell off and my friend gave me one - it's Dora. Do you remember before we had kids and bandaids were just peach-colored?

Coconut Mocha Coffee Completes Me

Remember how I love my Keurig? I do.

My sister introduced me to something that made it even better. Possible, you ask? Indeed, it turns out, it was.

It's called Coconut Mocha. I love it. She told me she had only ever seen it at Target.

She made me a to-go cup before I left for the airport.

Did I mention I love it?

So much so, I began texting about it the first morning I was home:

Off to Target I went. And, this was what I found of their Keurig coffee selections:

She tried to be helpful:

And, then. Then?! This:

Some people have fame and fortune. I have good Walmart karma. And, Coconut Mocha coffee. Win/Win!

(And, notice that it was still the only thing on my mind the next morning? I *heart* Coconut Mocha.)

My Sister Got Married this Weekend

She is adored.

And, so is he.

So, now.

Let the happily ever after begin.

Oh, wait.

I think it already has.

Love is that condition in which the happiness of another person is essential to your own.

-Robert A. Heinlein

I love you, Brandy. Your happiness has always been essential to my own.
I am, and will always be

Your adoring little sister -Ali

Status Update

I have to admit, when there's gross stuff in my pantry (like rice cakes), I'm so relieved when the expiration date has passed so I can throw it away and not feel guilty about not eating it anymore...

True Confession

When I saw this in the shoe department:

I wanted to yell, "They've been HEALED!"

(Is it obvious by how blurry this photo is that I was trying to take it quickly before I got caught?)

"Shawn's Massage" or "There Once Was a Little Stool"

Like I said a couple of days ago, I got a Deep Tissue massage.

It turns out I go to a massage to be pampered. I don't want to hear things out of my therapist's mouth like,

"You're going to need to focus on breathing through this part."

Or, "Drink lots of water. That will help you be less sore the next two days. But, on the third day, you should feel really good and relaxed." [I'm sorry. Say what?!]

I want to leave a massage feeling like angels just played with my hair, not like a surprisingly strong woman just used me for her strength training.

And, this made me think of "Shawn's massage." It is one of my favorite stories.

Shawn's Massage
We traveled with another couple to Cabo San Lucas. The other couple and I made arrangements for massages at the spa. Shawn had never had a massage. We convinced him he would love it and he should get one.

Well, first, we were all sitting in the "Relaxation Room" together. And, Shawn's robe? Barely covered his upper thigh.

And, then? His therapist came for him first. She was the tiniest little Mexican woman I have ever seen. As they walked away, the remaining three of us may or may not have laughed and made a few comments that if Shawn rolled off the table he would crush and kill her.

We all got our massages and we regrouped for lunch. While we sat and ate, we asked Shawn what he thought of his massage.

He answered, "Y'all? That little Mexican woman kicked my ass."

We laughed.

He said, "She even got a little stool out..."

We all paused with our food mid-air between our plates and our mouths and slowly turned toward him with horror in our eyes.

And he continued, "...and she climbed up on it so she could dig in with her elbows."

Once our hearts started beating again... And we could catch our breaths through the laughter... And, one or two of us had picked ourselves up off the ground... We explained to Shawn that the term "stool" has a completely different connotation in the medical community - one he was, up to that point, wholly unaware of.

But, now I see his story in a whole new light. Maybe he got a Deep Tissue Massage. And, maybe she did "get a little stool out."

It was the Best of Times. It was the Worst of Times. And, There was a Coffee Maker.

A couple of days ago, my Keurig coffee maker became possessed by a demon.

I tried to fix it the way I fix most broken things in my life. I googled it.

I used every troubleshooting technique I could find on the world wide web, because I love my Keurig and I was going to perform CPR until someone pulled me off of its cold, dead body.

But, finally, even I had to admit that I needed more intervention that the internets could provide - and, as much as I love you, Coffee Maker, I just can't clean up the reservoir-full of water that you keep spitting on my counter in the name of "Priming" yourself one more time. So, I called Keurig to tattle on her bad behavior. (That's right. I just made my coffee maker a girl. Because we're like sisters.)

The rep listened to my woes and said, "Sounds like you've done every troubleshooting tip I could have suggested for you. How about I just send you a new brewer?"

Um. Yes, please?* Wow. Well done, Keurig. THAT is customer service.

Now. Where is the nearest Starbucks? This is going to be a rough two to three business days.

*Turns out my loyalty toward this particular "sister" coffee maker wasn't so strong after all. She's going to be replaced. By a better sister.

Would it be bad to use this as a cautionary tale for my children?

*clink clink* [coins in the Therapy Fund... coins in the Therapy Fund...]

Massages and Panties

I don’t get massages very often. Usually just when we’re on vacation and there’s a spa.

So, I’m no novice. But I’m also no expert. And, here’s what always stumps me: Panties. On or off?

One time, on vacation, I thought to myself, “I need to stop being so immature. I’m sure my underwear just gets in the therapist’s way. So, I took them off. Well, evidently that was a code to this particular therapist to go to town on my gluts. There was a point where I wanted to yell, “Dude! Get off my ass!”

[Pausing while you get all of your inappropriate rebuttals and laughter out of your systems. All better now?]

Lately I've had this "twinge" under my right shoulder. I've been thinking I should get a massage. But, you know. Whatever. Then, on Monday, while I was getting my teeth cleaned, my dental hygienist said she was taking the next day off for her birthday and she was going to get a massage from her very favorite, highly certified, massage therapist. Well, I accepted this as the clear sign that. it. was. that I should get a massage from this woman.

I saw her today. She was very nice. I'm sure she could have cared less about whether I was pro or con underwear-during-massage. She even told me to "undress to the level I'm comfortable with."

Now. If I'm going to keep my underthings on, I want them to be as benign and clinical as possible. I hadn't thought that through when I dressed this morning. My choice was a little, let's say, sassy. Nothing I wanted to show a complete stranger.

And, anyway. I'm mature. I'm sure my underwear will just get in the therapist's way.

So, when she continued with, "Take your bra off, but you can keep your underwear on if you prefer," I responded a little to enthusiastically with, "But, it's okay if I take them off, right?"

[This is the point where the voice in my head starts screaming: "OMG. I just made it sound like panty-wearing was a deal-breaker. She thinks I'm a pervert."]

She was very nice and didn't act overly scared of me from that point on. But...

Then the massage began.

I had chosen to have a Deep Tissue Massage as opposed to a Swedish Massage. I've never had one before, but I wanted her to really "get in there" and get the knot that's been bothering my shoulder. Well, hear me now: Deep Tissue Massages are not for the faint of heart. I had no idea the sumo wrestling match I was about to enter into - a match in which the other person is pre-determined to win.

I also didn't know how much my legs would be moving.

She did, though. So, as I lay on my back and she moved to lift my thigh perpendicular to the table, she first made the appropriate adjustments of the sheet... for the average person. I, however? Am very flexible. I'm sure most people's thighs stop perpendicular to the table. But, by the time my knee was up near my armpit, it was clear that her sheet calculations had been... slightly off.

She was as professional as could be about it.

I, however? Will be wearing underwear for every massage from now until the day I die.

Status Update

For some reason, the phrase "Mommy's head hurts really badly," makes my kids break into rounds of the Mexican Hat Dance song.

*must not hit the children... must not hit the children...*

Status Update

I shouldn't use superglue without adult supervision.

Status Update

I think Santa Claus drives the Waste Disposal truck in my neighborhood. I always wondered what he did in the off-months.