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Behold Florida State Senator Eleanor Sobel! Isn’t she beautiful?! (She reminds me a little of Jill from Desperate Housewives of New York. Maybe it’s that she actually is a Jewish New Yorker. Regardless, I’m so glad to call her a Floridian today! Are any Floridians actually from Florida anyway? I’m a Mississippian by birth. Don’t choke! It’s OK. I escaped.)
She’s given me the afternoon to write, which is to say that she is entertaining the kids, isn’t yelling at me about drinking wine before 5, and is resisting the urge to come in here every quarter hour on the quarter hour. She’s doing a really good job with all except the last. She’s just told me that she may can stay away if I will regularly check my email so she chat with me from the other computer in the den. Our friend Spencer finds this disgusting. I’m pretty sure it’s because her husband (yuck!) is yucky.
We live in Pensacola, FL. The King and Queen of Spain were scheduled to make an appearance as part of the 450th Anniversary Celebration of the founding of Pensacola. Faith is nutsy coo-coo about Queens and Princesses and Fairies and any other women realistic or not, who dress in “sparkles.” We had to go.
It was, however, a typical morning at our house. Wake up too late. No clean socks. Not enough milk for everyone to have cereal. “What do you mean you didn’t finish your homework?” Shoes everywhere except on the shoe rack. “I don’t want to go to school!”
My 8 year-old was asked at school what his parents do. As it was related to me, he said something close to, “Well, my dad flies an Apache in the Army. It’s an attack helicopter and is the most technologically advanced flying machine in the world. My mom delivers mail for the Post Office. And Aunt Becca, well she drives around in our van and goes through people’s trash and dumpsters and stuff. She gets out all the good stuff and sells it.” I’ve been outed as a junker.
I had the best Valentine's Day of my whole life. It didn't involve chocolate or roses or jewelry or lingerie. I had a most unconventional perfect day. A good friend of Dawn's Hannah flew in from Milwaukee ro spend a few days with us. I teased her that she just wanted to see us smootch and figured that Valentine's Day was a sure bet for that. Late in the afternoon we started making plans for the night - solidifying babysitting, checking reservation rolls around town, etc. My ex-brother-in-law Will stopped by on his way home from work to see the kids.
Dawn and I have an unspoken agreement not to shave our legs in the Wintertime. When asked by friends what my favorite part of my newfound lesbianism is, I very often cite this agreement. Not shaving is awesome. Shaving sucks.
Dawn just came in here and pulled up the ankle of her jeans to reveal a smooth leg. I am betrayed. As I hastily pushed my own jeans down to cover my Yeti-ness, I asked her why, WHY! had she shaved her legs. She said she had to, that her leg hair was like roots growing into the floor and holding her down.
I love her.
My 4 year-old recently had a birthday. A friend called me from the ToysRUs to get approval for what her kids had picked out for him. (What a good friend, right?) I quickly exnayed their selection and suggested some Play-Doh. It’s cheap and readily available and he LOVES it. Dawn made a terrible kidney-stone flair up kind of groan when she overheard me. She admitted an intense hatred of Play-Doh and its stickiness and messiness and all-around pointlessness. I was shocked, but dismissed her as a oddity.