Some of My Best Friends Are Mormons

The other day we were driving through the University of Arkansas when this bike came out of nowhere and it seemed would end up under my car. My son whipped his head around to get a better look.

“Mom! That was one of those Mormons.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because. He was riding a bike and wearing a white shirt. AND he had a backpack.”

“Lots of students ride bikes and wear backpacks.”

“But the white shirt, Mom. I’m telling you he was Mormon.”

“They don’t bike that fast. Besides, he was alone. No way.”

“Mormon.”

Little sister from the back seat: “What’s a Norman?”

Notarize This

A sign your loan may not proceed as expected: when the notary says, while making a face at a particularly troublesome piece of paper, “Well this is…. um…. I have no idea.”

But of course I signed it.

I even held back telling my husband that I needed to brush up on his signature. Forgery jokes probably don’t go over well with notaries.

Things You Don’t Want to Hear on Vacation

There are a lot of things you don’t want to hear on your Mexican vacation. Here are a few of my favorites:

• We ran out of chips.
• Stop that! You want to get Javier fired?
• Go ahead, show ‘em. They don’t even have YouTube in Mexico.
• Why are the passports wet?
• You have transportation?
• Oh, he’ll be over there… sometime. Maybe tomorrow.
• I haven’t gotten up to pee all day!
• Just out of curiosity, where is my wallet?

My Husband is on Facebook

My husband is a reluctant member of Facebook. But he’s slowly warming. The other night he was messing around on his account and got so excited to see the posts coming through his feed.

“Wow, people write stuff on here all the time. No wonder you’re addicted.”

I’m not, but that’s another story.

“I have a lot of friends now. Look at all these friends!”

“Really? How many friends do you have, Babe?”

“I don’t know. How can you tell?”

I told him where to find the number. ”So? How many?”

“Ha!” he said. “I have 30!”

For $20, What Do You Expect?

We should have known that a trip to the Tulsa Zoo was not going to rival San Diego, Toronto, or even Woodland Park in Seattle. But when the total tab for five children and two adults rang in at $20, we should have known something was up.

Highlights:

• The zoo employee who was amused, then surprised, then flat out shocked to notice that not just one, but all of the flamingoes slept balancing on one foot.
• Upon approaching the barrier to the polar bear exhibit, my friend uttering, “Is that deck railing?”
• The threat of the day: “If I have to jump in after you I am going to be some kind of pissed. I’ll do it, but I’ll be pissed.”

The Oklahoma Aquarium was much better than the zoo, especially the fishing reel and tackle collection. Where else can you see – in the same location – a Scatback, a Weezel Bopper, and a Old Time Nipple Dipper?

You Have Arrived

Modern GPS systems are slick. If you can spell and follow directions, it’s actually kind of hard to get lost. But they are not fail safe. Two things you don’t want to see when the navigation system voice says, “You have arrived at your destination”:

• To your right: a trailer park.
• To your left: The Rebel Cafe, complete with confederate flag.

You might want to keep a map in the car. Or ammunition.

Shopping With My 75-Year-Old Mother-in-Law

My mother-in-law and I do not agree on fashion. Chicos is chic, she counsels, modern. She once told my children I needed to stop dressing like a teenager. An old friend, when I told her this, said, “Clearly she didn’t know you when you were a teenager.” Clearly.

On a recent visit, she conned me into taking her to Dillard’s on the pretense of buying herself a shirt outside of my father-in-law’s frugal watch. After twenty minutes at the Ralph Lauren racks, pointing out which zebra print and nautical sweaters would look lovely with my coloring, she gave up.

“This is my daughter,” she told the sales clerk. “I try to buy her things, but you can’t buy her anything. Because she’s petite, but she’s not petite.”

The woman smiled and nodded toward the petite section. “But there’s nothing young over there. She needs to shop on that side of the store.” She pointed to the department where no one had a walker, or an oxygen mask.

My mother-in-law dismissed her with a look. ”But I like Ralph Lauren.”

Vintage View: Rosie, Elizabeth, and The Donald

After more than twelve years, The View may seem like a daytime institution, but when the show began it was groundbreaking. Smart, opinionated women not only talking about their lives and the day’s events, but arguing about them. Add some celebrities and fashion advice and they had a hit. I liked it then and I like it now. The gossip isn’t as good as on my driveway, but the fights are sometimes smarter.

And speaking of fights, my favorite co-host was Rosie.

Pick your side, but this clip is exactly what Barbara Walters set out to create with this show.

And who can forget Rosie’s rant against Donald Trump. (I like him, but her criticism was spot on.)

I’m not fat or gay. I’m not quite as obnoxious as Rosie. Not quite. But I like to challenge people. I’m the Rosie of my circles. Of course that’s why I love her. Or maybe it was the hair. If Trump had her stylist, everything could have been different.

I am a participant in a Mom Central campaign for ABC Daytime and will receive a tote bag or other The View branded items to facilitate my review.

40th Birthday Party Themes

I had a big party for my 40th birthday, and it was fun – capital F kind of fun. As some of my girlfriends are getting close to their big days, we’re coming up with themes for their parties. We talked about luaus, casino nights, Oscar themes. One friend is planning to have hers at the roller rink. The guys are not as interested. Forty is not their big year anyway. Looking toward 50 they only came up with one party idea: strip club theme.

Just think of the party favors: little purple pills.

Dating at the Prime of Life

For all its pain and suffering, marriage does have one distinct advantage: we don’t have to date. From all I hear it seems really, really, painfully difficult. And it’s not just that I’ve been married so long that I have forgotten what it was like. I never actually dated. I was one of those dreadful girls who just went from one boyfriend to another to my husband with precious few periods of ‘dating’ in between.

I’m not sure I could handle the scene at this age, which–if my friends are to be believed–includes the following:

• men who have grandchildren, yet still live with their mothers
• women who run credit reports before the first date
• limited small town prospects that make dating after divorce feel like getting tossed into a bag of ‘Shake ‘N Bake until someone sticks
• too-high bikini area maintenance standards
• modern communication: did he really get my text?
• so much corporate travel you have to MapQuest your own address when you finally get home
• the new math required to determine how many dates until…
• exes and custody schedules

But go on, y’all – date. I enjoy living vicariously through you. I live to give you my bullshit all-knowing advice without having to personally suffer the emotional upheaval it causes. Who knows? You may end up married like me. Then I’ll be very helpful.

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