tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-57948222008-07-25T21:58:19.254-04:00nitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05597459215264934977noreply@blogger.comBlogger450125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5794822.post-8200527411637335132008-07-20T12:30:00.001-04:002008-07-20T12:31:38.425-04:00

Is it just me, or does this look like you can choose your boob size by pulling the strings and inflating hidden bladders?!

nitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05597459215264934977noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5794822.post-86893678323459057422008-06-10T09:57:00.004-04:002008-06-11T15:30:19.542-04:00

I met my father when I was 30. Turned out, I had a sister, too. And five loving aunts. A darling uncle. And about a thousand cousins. It's been an awesome journey. *** My mother made it as difficult as possible to 'find' him. She lied about our heritage, our father's knowledge of us, her state of residence, where she attended high school ... difficult. *** I meant to get in here and tell you

nitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05597459215264934977noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5794822.post-35883028856947388512008-05-30T14:03:00.002-04:002008-05-30T14:27:22.183-04:00

I'm over the pity party. No one showed up. I really shouldn't start them so late... So, for you today, a story. The best ever turn-down-Nita story. *** I was living in Rotten-Groton and I was more than a little nuts. I had broken up with a guy who was purely evil to me. I didn't know, but while I was in a monogamous 2 year relationship, he was trying to screw his way into Guinness World Book.

nitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05597459215264934977noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5794822.post-83808342136292297412008-05-29T23:23:00.003-04:002008-05-30T13:57:07.445-04:00

I have 3 friends in Massachusetts. I should try harder, but I find the days slip away in a whir of laundry, phonecalls, work, and just life. I may have to branch out. My one friend's husband got a promotion. He can now work from anywhere on the east coast. They moved here when they were young and this is their first house ... they brought their babies home to this house. It was home. But they

nitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05597459215264934977noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5794822.post-86320327457465839012008-05-16T00:19:00.002-04:002008-05-16T00:45:36.465-04:00

*Over Stimulated Life has been insanely busy of late. I feel like summer is coming and that's good. I've got Rio in a once a week dance class ... and that's it. We have a zillion little trips planned and I'm enjoying my new job and we have all been so tightly scheduled that I resisted the urge to sign her up for more stuff. I feel sorta guilty but as a mom I'm finding that it's pretty normal. If

nitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05597459215264934977noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5794822.post-4142622347061449342008-05-06T17:12:00.001-04:002008-05-06T17:15:15.706-04:00

My darling MIL retired. It ain't pretty. And! I was just getting ready to hang up my posting pen here at AMA, when I got an email demanding more reading material because she now has time to read. I shall obey. And post more. But not today. I'm up to my eyeballs making sure my cherished sister graduates college everrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. So, I leave you with a 'seriously' ... IKEA* - seriously?

nitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05597459215264934977noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5794822.post-64886829605187918822008-04-20T08:08:00.003-04:002008-04-20T08:29:00.359-04:00

There are two reasons I know I'm one hundred years old. #1. I rode the carousel with Rio on Friday. Three times. She fears the horses (and I'm thrilled the up and down on a pole gives her cause for concern) so we rode the carriage. Three times. She totally could have gone allll day, but I got motion sick. In the carriage. I'm officially old. #2. Meals are drawn out ordeals with Miss Rio. That

nitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05597459215264934977noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5794822.post-58160789220536397102008-04-15T19:01:00.003-04:002008-04-15T19:26:06.082-04:00

You are more than welcome to read to the bottom of this post to see why that's the title. In the meanwhile, I'd like to ask you a favor. Pretty big one. Click here. She's having a contest and I could win a blog design. Don't be a poopy-head and take the link and get your own free blog design because I will drop my kid in your front yard and then call animal control on your triflin' ass. Just

nitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05597459215264934977noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5794822.post-58641474768952889602008-04-08T18:52:00.002-04:002008-04-08T20:16:14.910-04:00

Yeah. *I broke up with my mom. Again. It's serious this time. She questioned my parenting. Them's fighting words. And fight we did. Oh well. *My new job continues to fascinate and challenge. I really like it! I'm having a tough time scraping 20 hours a week together, and my house looks rather tenementesque, but I really do like it! The job, not the slovenly way of life.... *I made a little

nitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05597459215264934977noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5794822.post-14400398584730301662008-03-27T12:53:00.002-04:002008-03-27T13:04:18.807-04:00

I was so thrilled my in-laws requested a sleepover with Rio starting this afternoon, with a brunch in Ct on Saturday for pick-up. But. My father-in-law is sick. Sick enough to have a doctor's appointment today. Do I feel bad for him? Hell, no! Instead of working in blissful silence, and not leaving the house except for a planned movie night out of the house in the theatre with real loud noise and

nitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05597459215264934977noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5794822.post-86382889425595892882008-03-26T09:18:00.002-04:002008-03-26T09:24:37.804-04:00

This morning, on the way back from dropping the Princess of Lip at school, I heard an NPR bit on the upcoming 'Miss Landmine Pageant' and I did not have one single thought that was mildly acceptable. When I get on overload I get inappropriate jokes flying through my brain. I'm the worst at funerals ... The reality is one of those things that is at once so beautiful it restores your faith in

nitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05597459215264934977noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5794822.post-53986947080065780562008-03-25T11:56:00.002-04:002008-03-25T12:01:36.330-04:00

Yeah. She got me on the telephone today. My mother. She calls and then fakes like she was asleep. It is soooo fun. Today's nuggets? In the space of one conversation she shared that she now has fibromayalgia, a bean-sized dark spot on her brain that is a stroke, more work than she can handle, no money, and the best stress test her doctor has ever seen. Oh, and she smokes and eats a stick of

nitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05597459215264934977noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5794822.post-3985534350677396262008-03-17T10:46:00.003-04:002008-03-17T10:55:39.156-04:00

There are things for which you try to prepare. You take phone calls at 2 am, and talk for hours. You touch base with experts so you have good information to share. You feel thankful for the deep and lasting friendships that have graced your life. You consider your own mortality which ironically makes the day a little sweeter. You think about upcoming appointments and know what can be canceled or

nitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05597459215264934977noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5794822.post-43567038538778693082008-03-14T08:46:00.002-04:002008-03-14T09:13:37.253-04:00

There are thousands of moments that drive home how different things are now. None more than parties. Parties used to be full day affairs. A sample 'big party' day, in olden times aka my misspent youth, aka 'the 80's'.... *10:00 - roll out of bed. look at boy. giggle a little. call girlfriends to meet for breakfast. don't wake boy. *10:30 - make fun of boy. give boy a nickname. use it in front

nitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05597459215264934977noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5794822.post-63487410838696764872008-03-12T09:18:00.002-04:002008-03-12T09:29:51.368-04:00

Scene opens. Elliot Spitzer is standing with his wife, in front of a fireplace. Dramatic theme music. The lights come up slowly. Client 9, aka Huggy Bear, aka Governor Spitzer is looking directly into camera. spitzer: I .... did NOT .... get a chance .... to have sex ... with that woman..........

nitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05597459215264934977noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5794822.post-87264976617097472342008-03-11T16:47:00.002-04:002008-03-11T16:55:09.799-04:00

Her sick day consists of: *breakfast *laying around saying, "I feel cruddy," for 3 hours. *watching television *art projects *lunch *nap *play with dad, who gets home about when she gets up from her nap, thank you very much daylight savings time... Yesterday she had him drag out blocks and the marble run. No ordinary marble run, this one makes towers that parking garage people study for maximum

nitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05597459215264934977noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5794822.post-18591426913652030022008-03-10T22:33:00.002-04:002008-03-10T22:44:15.546-04:00

Looks like Elliot Spitzer got caught with his expensive trousers heading for his ankles. Now, everyone makes mistakes. There are a lot of men trying to get a little on the side. Is that a crime? Well, nevermind. What inspires me about this particular incident is how well he's handling it. It *is* a private matter. If Bill had said the exact same thing in 1998, his presidency wouldn't have ended

nitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05597459215264934977noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5794822.post-89727961730449170722008-03-10T09:46:00.002-04:002008-03-10T09:50:33.631-04:00

She's finally fallen to the cold of the season. She's been remarkably disease free, even when every person we come into contact with has played bug-host at least once this season. I don't credit it to anything but dumb luck. She isn't hot on hand-washing. She still sucks those fingers. We're not shut-ins ... but we've all managed to duck the crud. No longer. Poor kid is a snotty mess. So, we

nitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05597459215264934977noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5794822.post-76319182485904539742008-03-07T08:47:00.002-05:002008-03-07T09:00:28.028-05:00

The new job is going great guns. I love learning new things and the actual process changes every day so I remain engaged instead of playing online Jeopardy at the same time. [Do they MAKE avatars without giant tits?] So, it's great but I've been ridiculously busy. I signed up for 20 hours a week, and as of 11pm I was at 23 so in theory I'm free til next week. In practice I have miles of internet

nitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05597459215264934977noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5794822.post-74925685178433711632008-03-02T10:53:00.002-05:002008-03-02T10:55:37.039-05:00

... something so huge happens, and it's amazing and completely wild, and it is way beyond inappropriate to blog about. I feel thwarted today. On another note, Rio and I have enjoyed our 2-weeks-of-nothing-to-do together. She's definitely ready for school, and I'd like to start smoking cigarettes again.

nitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05597459215264934977noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5794822.post-19666659841376965792008-02-29T14:20:00.002-05:002008-02-29T14:32:02.727-05:00

I've referred to our house as being on the edge of the Indy 500. A bazillion commuters start zinging by at 6am. Huge trucks going way too fast. Bear, who's not big on freaking out, freaks out on me when I walk on the road for anything ... anyway, someone died in front of our house today. A trucker tipped his rig and he's under it. This saddens me in so many ways. People, please slow down. You do

nitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05597459215264934977noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5794822.post-19097583047661407492008-02-22T13:56:00.003-05:002008-02-22T14:09:07.892-05:00

We're getting into the second week of Rio refusing to answer to anything but Mater. If you ask her to do anything and say "Rio" she'll promptly say, "I'm Mater. Call me Mater." This extends to play, the telephone, and most recently - the doctor's office. We had to have something checked out so: nurse: Hi there! You're so pretty. What's your name? rio: Rio. R.I.O. But call me 'Mater.' me: Rio,

nitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05597459215264934977noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5794822.post-64692323178513810502008-02-19T20:35:00.002-05:002008-02-19T20:57:26.280-05:00

... at the very least, don't raise them to be such. I, for one, am saddened by Brit these days. She so obviously needs a mother to straighten her ass out, and all she has is hangers-on, cashing checks from the Bank of Brit. Her actual mother among them. And Mommy Spears was out pitching a parenting book while Brit goes crazy and 16 year-old Jamie doesn't tell her she's pregnant until there are no

nitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05597459215264934977noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5794822.post-17534870499166944842008-02-19T08:42:00.002-05:002008-02-19T09:10:32.820-05:00

As if I needed more reasons to curb her television consumption ... she is a big fan of the movie 'Cars.' Me, too, really. I get teary-eyed when Sally details the demise of her little town. Bear has purchased a book about Route 66 and it's on our 'to-do' list to make a long family roadtrip. So, Cars has crashed into our lives a bit. That's all well and good, except Miss Rio calls me 'Sally' and

nitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05597459215264934977noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5794822.post-34757838196705331762008-02-16T15:26:00.002-05:002008-02-16T15:31:22.864-05:00

Bear was yelling "Schnoogs!" at her and chasing her to tickle her. They did one lap, two laps, and on the third she starting saying, "No tickles! No schnoogs!" but Bear kept chasing her. She just came to a halt, turned to him, pointed her wand at him and said, "Hey! Knock it off!" I'm pretty sure the wand is the source of her power. If only I can get it away from her...

nitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05597459215264934977noreply@blogger.com