I'm sitting at the Toyota dealer, waiting for my free oil change. The free hot chocolate to go with my free oil change is absolutely nasty. It's bitter and watery, and I hope they do a better job with my engine oil than they have with the cocoa. [shudder]
I meant to write a story while I sat here about last night's middle school band concert, but I got distracted by the TV, set to Regis and Kelly. I never watched that show very much, and it has been rather a while since I've seen it. What struck me were Kelly's arms and shoulders. What the hell? Chickie could totally kick my ass. She's obviously been hitting the gym. Her shoulders have that masculine roundness about them, and her biceps are long and large.
Unless it's just a ghost effect on the TV here.
Still, it's disturbing. While I've been sucking lattes, Kelly's been pumping iron with a personal trainer. That bulging-muscle, vein-popping look isn't really what I'm after, but neither is the frumpy mom look that debases me every waking and a few sleeping moments.
Hmm...I've decided Kelly is toned but not huge. Their TV just came in better focus.
And now I'm home again. My car made weird noises after they returned it to me. They tell me it was probably making that noise before and I never noticed because nothing they did could cause it. They looked it over and decided it was the radiator fan rattling things around. I chose not to wait to have it examined more closely. I'll go back on Friday the 13th. What a day for car repairs.
And how interesting.
Regis and Kelly had the kid who won the national spelling bee on. They did a mini-bee between the team of Regis/Kelly and the champ. One of the words was triskaidekaphobia, a fear of the number 13. June 13 is also my dead brother's birthday, as well as my live nephew's birthday, although I have several live nephews and no dead ones.
And speaking of birthdays, today is Kayleigh's birthday. She is 14. Balls and a half. She wants to go to the Olive Garden for dinner and have my monster, triple-layer, triple-chocolate cake.
Fourteen years ago today, my dad arrived in my hospital room to say, "I'm here. I didn't die." I made him promise. He didn't make it to see Kelsey. We videotaped Eric fumbling with Kayleigh's diaper for the first time. Kayleigh puked on me for the first time. I got a migraine. I liked having other people make my meals, even if they were hospital meals.
Kayleigh was such a cute little thing. She had a huge head of black, curly hair and a little upturned nose. Her mouth was a sweet little pink pooch. One of her eyes was bloodshot from getting squeezed through a hole that wasn't quite big enough for her. Man, the sound of those scissors cutting my skin is something I'll never forget. She was a big baby. Nine pounds, three ounces.
She didn't cry when she was born. They whisked her off to suck out her poopy lungs and tried to keep her quiet. They did such a good job that they started to worry about her. Her face, hands and feet were blue. But when they were done clearing her lungs, she let loose a yelp, and they wrapped her up and handed her to Eric. She turned those giant, vulnerable blue eyes to his and he just about fainted. He still gets that way sometimes, like last night when she was dressed for band. She doesn't think of herself as beautiful, but we do, and we always will.
Happy birthday, kid.