Wednesday, July 18, 2012
Tuesday, July 17, 2012
Ennui
en·nui
[ahn-wee, Fr. ahn-nwee] noun
a feeling of utter weariness and discontent resulting from satiety or lack of interest; boredom: The endless lecture produced an unbearable ennui.
Synonyms
listlessness, tedium, lassitude, languor.
listlessness, tedium, lassitude, languor.
Origin
1660–70; French: boredom; Old French enui; displeasure; see Chicago and national weather report; see why house renovations are in a complete stall; see dearth of clean clothes; see why we are eating pretzels for dinner; see snail's pacing of Naperville Now blog posts.
I realize it is summer. It is supposed to be hot in summer. But it is frying pan hot here, and across most of the U.S., with the exception of San Diego, where my high school pal Kathy lives. She posted on Facebook that it was too cold to take her laptop out on to her porch because it wasn't even 70 degrees.
Weather envy. At my age. Pathetic.
Our annuals are shot. Again.
I don't want to even think about the trees and bushes. The critters show up at our backyard fountain and sit in two inches of water, staring into space. Bird ennui. Clearly.
There is so much to do before the wedding, it makes my head hurt.
I think I'll take a nap, provided I can overcome my ennui and make it to the couch.
Thursday, July 12, 2012
House
I haven't been particularly successful at spiffing up the house for the wedding.
The paint in the sun room looks like we took yellow highlighter to the walls.
The new ceiling fan is teeny tiny compared to the volume of the room. (Scale has never been my strong suit. Too math-y for my taste.)
The faucets are somewhere in Idaho. Or Arizona. Possibly both.
The roof guys showed up at 6.45 a.m with hip hop blaring from the truck radio.
We are on the third round of planting Wave Petunias in the front garden.
How is it that HGTV makes these home up-do's effortless (and in 30 minutes)?
The wallpaper guy, bless him, is setting up to make those powder room walls delightful.
Buh bye brown walls, green stenciling and foil flowers. You will not be missed.
If you need me, I will be at the hardware store measuring ceiling fans and escutcheons, looking for white paint to tone down those walls and buying a toilet seat because, ridiculously, new toilets -- even expensive ones -- do not come with seats. (Bet they do on HGTV.)
The paint in the sun room looks like we took yellow highlighter to the walls.
The new ceiling fan is teeny tiny compared to the volume of the room. (Scale has never been my strong suit. Too math-y for my taste.)
The faucets are somewhere in Idaho. Or Arizona. Possibly both.
The roof guys showed up at 6.45 a.m with hip hop blaring from the truck radio.
We are on the third round of planting Wave Petunias in the front garden.
How is it that HGTV makes these home up-do's effortless (and in 30 minutes)?
The wallpaper guy, bless him, is setting up to make those powder room walls delightful.
Buh bye brown walls, green stenciling and foil flowers. You will not be missed.
If you need me, I will be at the hardware store measuring ceiling fans and escutcheons, looking for white paint to tone down those walls and buying a toilet seat because, ridiculously, new toilets -- even expensive ones -- do not come with seats. (Bet they do on HGTV.)
 |
| Perfect, right? |
Monday, July 9, 2012
Support
Our friend turned 50 today.
By way of marking this milestone, we received a request for wine bottles, used brassieres and assistance in festooning her house.
Believe it or not, there are people in this world who actually own a plastic bin filled with bras JUST IN CASE.
Festooning emergencies break out all the time, apparently.
Who knew?
This is the person well-connected in ladies' lingerie who also doubled as thebratender bartender.
Toasted and fortified, we went to work with lingerie, clothesline, bottles, window markers, illuminated signs and more lingerie.
Did I mention there were spotlights?
The sign says: We Are Giving Her Our Support.
Ten people can create a lot of latex havoc in an hour. You should see where those bras landed in the tree next to their house.
However, we misjudged the time and our friend came back home just as we were exiting stage left and right.
Once past 50, it's just not as easy being stealthy.
Happy Birthday, Dee Dee. Hope it was as memorable for you as it was for us.
By way of marking this milestone, we received a request for wine bottles, used brassieres and assistance in festooning her house.
 |
| 44DD. I checked. |
Festooning emergencies break out all the time, apparently.
Who knew?
This is the person well-connected in ladies' lingerie who also doubled as the
Toasted and fortified, we went to work with lingerie, clothesline, bottles, window markers, illuminated signs and more lingerie.
Did I mention there were spotlights?
The sign says: We Are Giving Her Our Support.
Ten people can create a lot of latex havoc in an hour. You should see where those bras landed in the tree next to their house.
However, we misjudged the time and our friend came back home just as we were exiting stage left and right.
Once past 50, it's just not as easy being stealthy.
Happy Birthday, Dee Dee. Hope it was as memorable for you as it was for us.
Saturday, July 7, 2012
Great Expectations
Daughter No. 1 reaches a milestone birthday tomorrow.
(July 7 was my due date, hence the title of this post.)
We have bobbed across time's waters so swiftly that I barely know how we got to this day.
I will chalk that up to sleep deprivation. Also laundry. And cooking.
In time, I've gotten better at reflecting about my days rather than rushing through them. (And shame on me for having done too much of the latter when the kids were little and my brain still worked. Writing this blog has helped me slow down, and I'm very glad for it.)
But this post is about our girl.
Our sweet creation, one-point-oh.
Forever dressed too warmly. (In my defense, our old house in Kansas City was very drafty.)
You look so serious in this picture. But it captured your you-ness in ways the 9 million other photographs did not. (I hadn't realized how much these prints had deteriorated until I scanned this one. No offense!)
No matter what we did, you thrived, thank God.
Always in motion.
A champion talker (with inventive pronunciations).
A reader, bless you.
Smart, funny, impatient.
A "Let's go!" girl who thought napping the most ridiculous ritual ever invented.
Fearless (except for The Count on Sesame Street. And I have to admit, I found him pretty creepy, too.)
Gregarious. Curious.
Daring. Tender-hearted.
Fast forward and you are now the mother of two darling babies and zooming through your days.
Wishing you time to reflect on this day before your birthday, to remember and to enjoy yourself and all that your life holds.
Happy Birthday.
(July 7 was my due date, hence the title of this post.)
We have bobbed across time's waters so swiftly that I barely know how we got to this day.
I will chalk that up to sleep deprivation. Also laundry. And cooking.
In time, I've gotten better at reflecting about my days rather than rushing through them. (And shame on me for having done too much of the latter when the kids were little and my brain still worked. Writing this blog has helped me slow down, and I'm very glad for it.)
But this post is about our girl.
Our sweet creation, one-point-oh.
Forever dressed too warmly. (In my defense, our old house in Kansas City was very drafty.)
You look so serious in this picture. But it captured your you-ness in ways the 9 million other photographs did not. (I hadn't realized how much these prints had deteriorated until I scanned this one. No offense!)
No matter what we did, you thrived, thank God.
Always in motion.
A champion talker (with inventive pronunciations).
A reader, bless you.
Smart, funny, impatient.
A "Let's go!" girl who thought napping the most ridiculous ritual ever invented.
Fearless (except for The Count on Sesame Street. And I have to admit, I found him pretty creepy, too.)
Gregarious. Curious.
Daring. Tender-hearted.
Fast forward and you are now the mother of two darling babies and zooming through your days.
Wishing you time to reflect on this day before your birthday, to remember and to enjoy yourself and all that your life holds.
Happy Birthday.
Thursday, July 5, 2012
Groan
The reason we choose to stay in Chicago is that however awful our winters may be, the summers are always delightful and moderate.
At least that was the case until 1.30 p.m. somewhere between the mall and the library on Naper Boulevard.
Note to self: put masking tape over outside temp read-out. Best not to know these things.
(If it's this bad now, what will it be like in August when we are in our wedding -- and undergarment support -- finery?)
Think temperate weather thoughts with me:
Lush green grass.
Wave Petunias still waving and not shriveled into crunchy stubs.
Hydrangeas all bright and white, exhibiting their usual good posture at the back of the garden.
Silvery rain drops -- a lot of 'em.
And calming, cool breezes.
Possibly a vodka tonic or two until it happens.
Monday, July 2, 2012
Ouch
I will complain about governmental ineptitude, the TSA, and social injustice, but I generally keep personal rants to myself. Lucky for you, I'm going to make an exception.
I was prescribed a drug called Cipro two weeks ago and it has been my undoing. Neck pain. Knee pain. Crippling wrist, hand and arm pain.
Did I mention these are known side effects of this drug?
Living on a tonnage of Advil (and Prevacid so my stomach doesn't give up the ghost) has helped infinitesimally.
I just want to make sure that you guys never take it. Ask for something else. Or do jello shots. Anything other than taking Ciprofloxacin, the aftereffects of which my doc says may take weeks to resolve.
(The Internet tells me this is the drug of choice if you have been exposed to Anthrax. Go with the Anthrax. You're just going to have to trust me on this.)
It is also tough to come up with posts that are a. funny and b. vaguely readable when your body is not cooperating in a most unpleasant way.
So Naperville Now is going to take a teeny tiny break while she heals up from the aftershocks.
And if you hear of a class action suit, write me. I'd like to exact my pound of monetary flesh from the evil lab that invented a pill that can make a person feel and look like she's 150 years old.
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