A Side of Rice

Hopefully Humorous (and sometimes R-rated) Musings About Life


Leave a comment

Fashion Weak

As the mother of two boys, I resigned myself long ago to the fact that when it comes to clothing, my choices to outfit them would be limited to dinosaurs, animals, super heroes, planes, construction equipment, stripes, and sports.  As they have gotten older, the choices narrowed even further to plain, minimal stripes, and (the very expensive) sports team/logo wear.

My boys hate the feel of jeans, so when we find a pair of sweatpants/shorts that fit and are deemed cool enough to be seen it, we buy them in every color they come in. Which brings us back to limits once again, as the color choices they have started gravitating to in their teen years are shades of grey, navy, and black. Hooray for the neutrals, because they will go with any of the outrageously expensive logo wear/sports team tops they pick up from the floor and sniff before shrugging their shoulders and putting on the offensive smelling item anyway.

Recently, we relented and went shopping for Fall/Winter clothes for our oldest and a few items to fill in the gaps of the hand-me-downs for our youngest. Because who doesn’t want to spend a Saturday evening in crowded rural mall, shopping with two teenage boys who could care less about clothing?

thisgirl

Our first stop was Old Navy. My husband and I spent a lot of time trying to decipher what “I dunno”, “whatever” and “sure” really meant as we held up options for our 14 year old to decide on. It got even tougher to tell what he thought as he moved into the non-verbal responses of “major eyeroll”, “shrug”, and “heavy sigh while snapping one’s head back”.

Which pretty much made me do this:

eyeroll

After finding a few sweatpants styles and some long sleeve shirts that fit – and buying them in the three neutral colors available – we headed to H&M. I’d heard the clothing was affordably priced. What I hadn’t heard about was how much I wouldn’t be hearing after being in a store that blasts hipster emo tunes. #OldPeopleProblems

The clothing options were minimal at best and we quickly determined that our decidedly non-emo sons would not find anything of interest. On our way out, I spotted this:

img_1919

$30 for a sweatshirt that comes with holes already in it? Uh…that’s a big “fuck no.”

I immediately snapped a picture and commented, “If you boys want something like this, I’ll take you to my parent’s house and you can pick one from granddad’s closet. For free.”

Next it was on to American Eagle, where I spotted this and told my husband “if you become a stripper and wear these sparkly blue underwear, perhaps we can afford all these clothes we have to buy the kids.”

img_1985

The salesgirl smirked and asked if she could help me find them in my husband’s size. My husband then rolled his eyes, shrugged, and let out a heavy sigh while snapping his head back as he headed toward the door.

By the time we got to the fourth store, my sons’ and husband’s enthusiasm for the whole shopping excursion had really waned (as if it going lower than from where it started could even be a possibility). Their diminished enthusiasm was almost inversely proportional to their growing hunger for dinner. My oldest spent a solid three minutes in the store, where he picked out 3 shirts (same style, different colors) and quickly made a beeline for the exit to discuss restaurant options with his dad and younger brother.

Our shopping trip had taken less than an hour and a half. I think we spent more time on dinner at the restaurant when you count driving to it, waiting for a seat, ordering, eating, paying the check, and driving home.

Fast forward to last night and just three weeks after buying the new clothes. My oldest walked through the family room and I yelled “Stop!”.

“Are those a pair of your new sweatpants?”, I inquired.

“Yes,” was his response.

My close to 6′ tall, size 13 shoe-wearing oldest stood while I took a photo. The new sweatpants are already too short.

img_2049

He’ll just have to hope he doesn’t grow any taller because I can’t update his wardrobe with new navy/grey/black sweatpants every three weeks.

Boys’ fashion is certainly not for the weak of heart. Or the weak of wallet.

 

 


Leave a comment

My Mom Interest Survey

At the beginning of each school  year, my kids have to fill out forms with answers to a bunch of questions so that the teachers will know who the potential trouble-makers are have a sense of the personalities in their classroom.

My youngest started 8th grade this year and filled out the form. He showed it to me and you can certainly understand why I was looking for an eraser after reading it:

nick-form

In case you can’t read it, the second of the two common activities he does when he gets home is watch YouTube. Just another check mark in the #ParentingWin column, folks.

I did have to admit, though…it is Nick. 100%.

It also got me thinking. How would I fill out a form like this today? So I typed up a copy of the same questions, printed it out, and started writing in my answers.

becky-form-final

Hard to read? Here, let me make it easier for you to get a peek into my psychosis psyche.

top-half-final-version

bottom-half-final-version

What this really tells you about me is:

  • I keep telling myself every day “50 is the new 40”
  • I think this election has been a shit show, and out of 350 million people, I can’t believe these two yahoos are the best candidates we have to put forward
  • I’m a snob about the tequila I drink
  • I must have skipped the chapter on parent/teacher conferences in What to Expect When You’re Expecting
  • I read too much People magazine
  • At best, my taste in movies is questionable and relatively non-Oscar worthy
  • I shouldn’t be in charge of the music playlist at a kids’ dance
  • I am deluded into thinking “perfect” wives cook, clean, and do laundry
  • I fully acknowledge my husband didn’t get the perfect wife (but you shouldn’t feel too bad for him — because I’m so awesome in spite of not cooking, cleaning, and doing laundry. And humble. I’m very humble.)
  • And finally, I think karma needs to step up its game against people with no/a very questionable moral compass

I’m looking at you Trump, Hillary, and  fuzz-out .

 


Leave a comment

Well, That’s the Pitts

Unless you’ve been living under a rock this week — or have all your entertainment alerts set to ‘Kardashian only’ (shame on you, if that’s the case) — you’ve heard the news that the Jolie-Pitt marriage has finished/ended.

And since they are such a globally aware couple now a pair of ‘normal’, heading-toward-a-nasty-divorce pair of adults, here’s how we say it’s over in any language —

  • Afwerking (Dutch – and so fun to say!)
  • Finir (French – for their neighbors in France, where they have a castle/estate)
  • fini (Haitian Creole – in honor of New Orleans, where they have a $3+ million dollar home)
  • បញ្ចប់ (Khmer – official language of Cambodia, for son Maddox’s fans)
  • hoàn thành (Vietnamese – in honor of son Pax’s fans)
  • Chereshe (Amharic, official language of Ethiopia, for daughter Zahara’s fans)
  • “50/50-ed” (nickname Californians have for how you divvy up the estate)
  • Overflate (Norwegian — which might actually be best for describing their egos)

There has been much speculation about this surprise Hollywood breakup… it’s all because of Angelina’s supposed OCD … it’s definitely Brad’s alleged marijuana use … it’s that their last movie By the Sea sucked something awful … it’s because TMZ needing to goose ratings.

Whatever it actually is, I’ll tell you what this break up/divorce isn’t. It isn’t…

  • shocking that two strong-willed, determined, and professionally-minded people find that they have grown apart
  • going to keep the Kardashians out of the news…unfortunately
  • nearly as newsworthy as Entertainment Tonight, TMZ, Access Hollywood, E!, or The Washington Post have made it out to be
  • brimming with the potential to be as entertaining to watch as the shit show called an election we already have going on in 2016
  • anything Taylor Swift hasn’t already written a thinly-veiled revenge song about
  • the excuse I can use to get out of working my concession stand duty
  • something special that any couple with kids hasn’t already gone through if they have divorced

So … maybe … being no more special than ordinary people who have to deal with this every day with far less fame, money, and access to cut-throat divorce attorneys is the the real reason this situation is the pits for the Jolie-Pitts.


2 Comments

You Had One Job

In January of 1965, my parents were married.

Mom’s friend she met as a freshman at Georgetown Visitation College in 1960, Susan Carozza, was one of her bridesmaids, along with her sister Becky (my namesake), and her cousin Mary Anne.

IMG_1516

Left to right: Aunt Becky, Mom, Susan, and Aunt Mary Anne

My dad’s groomsmen consisted of his older brother Jerry and some young men he now describes as “the scrubs I ran around the county drinking with.” Charming.

One of those drinking buddies guys also happened to be my mom’s cousin Al. During the wedding, Al walked my grandmother down the aisle, as mom’s family entered the church.

IMG_1513

 

Susan led the bridesmaids as they entered the church.

IMG_1514

In the wedding party photo, it just so happened that Al stood behind Susan.

IMG_1515

It was at my parent’s wedding that Al and Sue met, and began their own love story. They married the year after my parents.

My parents celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary in 2015. There was a nice party in January, and we celebrated as a family with a vacation that Summer.

This past weekend, my Uncle Al and Aunt Sue also celebrated 50 years of marriage. Their son decided to create a video, and had asked for family and friends to record video congrats, find pictures, etc., to be sent to him so he could put it together.

I taped a number of people offering anniversary congratulations wishes:

Like, my sister Susan.

Sue

My Aunt Mary Anne, who was one of the bridesmaids at my parent’s wedding, also offered well wishes.

Mary Anne

My mom’s brothers and their wives sent wishes, including my Uncle Frank and Aunt Lorrie, as well as my Uncle Bill and Aunt Barbara.

Frank and Lorrie

Bill and Barbara

And then? Well, there’s these two yahoos.Mom and dad

The couple who unintentionally played matchmakers for the Goughs over 50 years ago had one job.

One fucking job.

And I’m pretty sure they nailed it.

Happy Anniversary Uncle Al and Aunt Sue!

Al and Sue Wedding Day

Al and Sue Anniversary Party

Photo courtesy of Mike Oswald Photography.  www.mikeoswaldphotography.com

 


3 Comments

My 20/20 Vision Sometimes Gets a Little Blurry

Today is Alex’s first day of high school. I was able to obtain the obligatory first day of school picture. Evidently, once you hit high school (or teenager status), smiling is no longer allowed  cool  something you do, just so you can annoy the snot out of your mother.

IMG_1755

This is my happy face, mom.

Was it only a few short months ago that the parents of 8th graders were jammed into a school gym with no air conditioning to celebrate the milestone of middle school graduation? Editor’s note: Sorry for the quality of the video – that’s what happens when you are a lame parent and don’t think to film the entire room, so you have to steal  swipe  use some fancy technology to copy as best as possible an uploaded version to Facebook by a parent who does have their shit together  was thinking it would be a good idea.

Was it only a few short months ago that my kid was already practicing his ‘we shant smile for anything when mom asks’ look, so that it took at least three tries to get a semi-usable photo of him next to the school mascot?

IMG_1372

This is as happy as my face gets, mom.

Was it only a few short months ago that the video compilation of pictures moms and dads submitted was played at the ceremony?

Was it only a few short months ago that the parents, grandparents, and guardians in attendance realized there was one problem?

Tshirt

You see, our 20/20 vision for these kids’ future was a bit blurry. Because tears of pride will do that to you.

Whole class

Walkersville High School Lions Class of 2020


2 Comments

Why I’m a Total Heel

About a year and a half ago, I noticed a tweak in my heel/ankle area. I thought it was because I wasn’t watching where I was going as I tripped over a divot on the sidelines while taking photos as my son’s football game. Own your klutziness, I say.

Turns out something more sinister was going on. Something I would ignore for the next 19 months. Because as you get older, tweaks, twists, twinges (and, apparently, alliteration) take on greater meaning in terms of what we should pay attention to.

At the beginning of this year, the pain started to be a little somewhat downright regular and more noticeable. The pain was centered in my heel and achilles. I found myself gimping around like an old woman and at times I would stop walking entirely to “restart” my gait in an attempt to reduce the pain and limping.

And you thought only Justin Timberlake knew how to bring the sexy back.

It was clear that my tweak/twist/twinge was a bit more than I had bargained for. I reluctantly admitted that I was going to have to put out the co-pay to find out what the hell was going on.

On my visit to the podiatrist, I explained my symptoms, and the length of time I had been experiencing them. The podiatrist took an x-ray and while he consulted with another patient in a different exam room, his office manager brought my x-ray into the room and put it on the board.

To give you a baseline, this is what a normal x-ray of a heel should look like (ignore the toes — they look sorta jacked up, don’t they?):

NormalHeel

Photo (c) 2016 Beginner Triathlete. All Rights Reserved

So smooth. So rounded. So NOT ANYTHING LIKE MINE. Because this is my hot mess of an x-ray that went up on the board:

X-ray

Do you see it? That crescent moon jutting off the back of my heel with a sharp point? Yeah, that’s not supposed to be there:

Heel only

The doctor came back into the office and looked up at my x-ray. He said “so…yeah. Well, at least we know what’s been causing the pain and difficulty walking. The technical term is bone spurs. In terms of size…well I haven’t seen anything like this…in a very long time. And because you let it go on so long, your achilles is now chronically and severely inflamed. You must have a very high tolerance for pain.”

That’s right, bitches. I don’t do anything half-assed.

We discussed my options. There is the much more appealing non-invasive therapy: tennis shoes all the time, special inserts in my tennis shoes, a sleeping boot at night, calf stretches four times a day, and a strong anti-inflammatory medication.

Unfortunately, that won’t make bone spurs go away. It really only helps with the pain and possible damage I’ve done to my achilles.

So, then there’s the invasive and highly unappealing option of surgery to shave the bone spur off. Shave armpits, bikini line, and legs? Sure. Shave bones? Yikes!

While any surgery that would keep me off my feet and render me unable to work the concession stand at my kids’ football game is so completely appealing I almost immediately demanded that course of action, I picked the less invasion option. For now.

When I posted the photo of my x-ray to Facebook, a friend made a comment that puzzled me:

Foot on Facebook.jpg

Both? Both what? Both ends of the crescent moon?

Uh, no genius. Both bone spurs. Because while I had focused on the crescent moon on the back of my heel, I had totally ignored the fact that the doctor said “spurs”. And the spur on the bottom of my heel was the size of something that would have sunk the Titanic:

Under Heel

I head back to the podiatrist next week to see if the medicine and therapies have helped with damage to my achilles. Dealing with the bone spurs is a totally different issue and I’ll need to make a decision about surgery soon.

I know it would make me a total asshat if I decide to schedule surgery at a time that prevents me from working the concession stand.  But honestly, it would be so fucking awesome a real shame to miss out on the character-building concession stand work like making sno-cones, squirting liquid cheese on pretzels and hotdogs, and taking crumpled dollar bills from teens who have just dug the money out of their sweaty, smelly sneakers.

Oh, who am I kidding? I wouldn’t miss working the concession stand one bit.

Which makes me a total heel.


Leave a comment

Naked and Afraid … We’ll Never Have A/C Again

Seven years ago, my parents gifted us with a portion of some found money from an inheritance. We took our unexpected windfall and bought this:

Our island

That’s right – a poster of a tropical island. We hung it above the master bathroom tub and began dreaming about what it would be like to enjoy amazing alcoholic drinks on the beach in the picture.

Which, in my mind, would be something classy like this:

Classy drinking gif

But would actually turn out like this:

Cinderella gif

With the money left over after the poster purchase, we decided to buy something that would really up our street cred as cool parents. Our kids thought that meant a family vacation to Atlantis.

What we actually invested in was a new furnace and A/C unit. So, as you can image, the kids were totally on board:

Wait-say-what-GIF

Fast forward to Thursday of this past week — which also happened to be the hottest/most humid day of the year so far. I got this text from my husband:

Text Message

You would totally understand my WTF, if you knew our history with this particular unit (Carrier sucks). It’s gone up on us three times (Carrier sucks) in the 6 years we’ve had it (Carrier sucks). Twice it happened right after the technician came for the semi-annual check (Carrier sucks).

Per the beleaguered technician who showed up, the upgraded unit we had been convinced to purchase has “known issues”, but not well known enough for Carrier (sucks) to replace it. Upon his inspection, our “options” were:

  1. Stretch your hammies, because you are about to bend over and grab your ankles. Hard.
  2. Have the compressor replaced, but pay for the labor and cross your fingers nothing else goes wrong before the warranty totally expires. And if something else does go wrong, you’ll still have to pay for the labor. Even though Carrier (sucks) knows there is a problem with this unit.
  3. Buy a new unit, that will come with a new warranty. Don’t forget to be grateful that the new unit is being offered to you at a greatly reduced price, as a favor from Carrier (sucks) because they are aware of the problems with this unit.

"Rock, Hard Place" Road Sign with dramatic clouds and sky.

We opted for the new unit at the cost of a family vacation we won’t be taking this Summer for a consumer-screwing “generously reduced” price. To add insult to injury we had to wait until the following Tuesday — six miserably hot days — for the new unit to be installed.

But the experience wasn’t a total downer. Actually, we learned quite a bit. And I’m happy to share my new-found knowledge with you:

  1. Get naked! Or as close to naked as you are comfortable with. Because temperatures outside when there is no breeze will mean the main floor of your house will be about 89 degrees in the evening after a day in the mid-90s with high humidity.
  2. Sleep naked! Your upstairs bedroom is probably 10 degrees hotter than downstairs, and the beast that sleeps in between you and your partner is 75 pounds and wears a fur coat all year. Or, you could sleep naked and downstairs, where it is 10 degrees cooler. Unfortunately, there’s really only enough room for your kids on the couch.IMG_1557
  3. Save electricity! Turn off every light in the house to reduce heat production. Besides, you’ll need to save some money for the new “greatly reduced” A/C unit you are purchasing, and for the unexpected expenses of #9 you will now be incurring.
  4. No cooking! There’s no reason to add even more heat to the house by turning on the oven to make dinner. Or breakfast. Or lunch. Which is pretty much my motto, even when the A/C is working.
  5. Don’t obsess! It’s hot. It’s fucking hot. Checking the thermostat every 1/2 hour won’t change that. And it will just make you more angry every time you see that “system malfunction” message. System Malfunction
  6. Go swimming! If you are fortunate enough to have a pool in your backyard, your community, or one close by with pretty lax security so there’s little chance you’ll be arrested if you break in, go get wet. No pool access or don’t need another blemish on your rap sheet? Take a cold shower.
  7. Have empathy! Take special pity on the members of your family who can’t get any more naked than they are. We fed the dogs ice constantly.  And we tried not to complain too much when they were hogging the fans.
  8. Get creative! Remember that ice bucket your parents gave you as a Christmas gift last year? Fill it with a large bag of ice and place a fan behind it to blow cool air across the room. Stand in front of it and bitch about how it’s barely cooling the room off, let alone your naked body. Then notice the light of your neighbor’s fire pit and fantasize about how it’s probably cooler by their fire pit than it is standing naked in your family room in front of a big tub of ice. IMG_1553
  9. Spend Money! The first night of being A/C-less, we ran out and bought two big fans that cost us $60. IMG_1552We spent money on ice (see #7 and #8) twice a day. We ate dinner out. And for some reason (probably because we were delusional from the heat), we went to an air-conditioned sports mega-store and bought our youngest son a bike, along with a bike rack to haul around all four of our family bikes.
  10. Avoid sex! Because hot, grumpy, and miserable is the least sexy thing you can imagine. Which — in an ironic twist — is a waste of the whole naked thing, I’m afraid.