On the way to dinner on Friday night we passed a tiny Asian woman driving her car (and I say this with no racism or intolerance having every race and disability in my family) not wearing gloves, not wearing a surgical mask, but with a wad of tissue shoved up her nose and hanging to her chin.  It was truly an awesome and amusing sight.

I would like to thank the guy in the souped-up whatever with the cool loud motor for getting home at 6 a.m. (I was working but everyone else was sleeping) who couldn’t find a parking spot and knew that when he headed home because after 6 p.m. there is no parking.  He drove up and down our street for 25 minutes before finally leaving.  That’s not selfish at all.

Sometimes when I want Hot Joe’s attention, I leave a Facebook status.

Justin Bieber is a dick, and that is precisely where I would like to take a hammer.  When visiting the Anne Frank House Museum in Amsterdam, who wrote in the guest book he, “hoped she would have been a Belieber” if history were different.  I’m thinking she would have hoped that Jews were left alone to live amongst the non-Jews or that she would have gotten out of the war alive or that Hitler never existed, but I could be wrong.  For the whole article, go here.

At Noah’s physical therapy center there is an elderly woman, probably late 70s/early 80s, who apparently had a stroke at some time in her life.  She’s very friendly to the point of being invasive but she means well.  No matter what you are discussing with who or where, she will interject, managing to incorporate her three boys into the story.  Her three boys are probably in their 60s.  Apparently we aren’t the only ones who get a little overwhelmed by this well-meaning woman.  The other day the office manager walked through the room and the elderly woman yelled, “Hello!”  The manager answered back and the elderly lady then yelled, “I’m so excited!”  The manager responded, “Okay.”  Noah and I couldn’t look at each other.  We just held in our giggles over this awkward moment.  We tried to not look at the older woman at that point because we were embarrassed for her but we had to pass by her and she still had a big smile on her face, excited about something.

Lately I have been unbearably thirsty.  To the point where I have been keeping two sports bottles on the coffee table, which I will down in 45 seconds and within 30 minutes I’m off to the restroom, and then every 15 minutes after that and then multiple times at night.  It’s super fun.  Hot Joe has now put a stop to the madness by giving me a small glass filled half-way with ice and the remainder is water.  It’s actually very clever of him because I’m forced to nurse the drink and my water isn’t breaking half-way to the bathroom.  Last night as I obsessed over my thirst I sent Beth a text telling her I was dying of thirst.  I was “thirsting to death” as she used to say when she was little.  I was pretty sure I was going to dehydrate in the middle of “Bones.”  Being the supportive sister she is, this is how she responded:

She’s my sister. I’m suffering. Is this supposed to make me feel better?

President Obama, in the wake of the Boston terrorism, gave a great speech the following morning.  It made me a little teary for the people who were there but there’s one part of the speech that I CANNOT. GET. OUT. OF. MY. HEAD.  President Obama said, “A 8-year-old boy lost his life.”  Is it just me?  Do you see it?  ‘A’ goes before a consonant.  ‘An’ goes before a vowel.  Dammit President Obama, it’s simple grammar!!!  I text Hot Joe about it, and he thought he would be funny:

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After the horrific events of Monday, I put off writing what I had originally planned.  I wanted to write about former pro volleyball player-turned model Gabrielle Reece Sparks, and the controversy surrounding her new book, ‘My Foot is too big for the Glass Slipper.’  Specifically, people were up in arms about her comment, “To truly be feminine means being soft, receptive and – look out, here it comes – submissive.”

Hot Joe and I happened to be watching the interview together and I looked at him and said, “So what’s the big deal?”  I agree with her.  I think she’s got it.  I totally respect it.  I just can’t be that way myself.  I wish I could, I truly do, but I think my personality and my years of self-sufficiency (which include my first marriage) make me too strong-willed.  Does this mean Hot Joe is asking me to do things and I’m saying no?  No.  To the best of our abilities we both give one another everything the other needs.

In response to the outrage and misunderstanding,  Gabrielle states, “The whole book is about being self defined and trying to figure out ways to stay happy and being powerful,”  “Service, the idea of serving others within your home or within your community, takes a source of strength.”

Bravo, Gabrielle.  She admits she and her husband came close to divorce at one time.  She agrees that marriage takes work regardless of what method you use.   I wish I could be more submissive.  I find that to be feminine.  Hot Joe works his ass off, sometimes up to 10 hours a day.  Yesterday and today, he worked his hard hours, washed his hands, had a glass of water and then headed over to help my parents get my Grampa set-up in his new home.  He deserves to come home, take a shower, and be waited on.  He deserves to have everything and anything he wants or needs from me.  This includes, according to Gabrielle and her husband, sex at least every 48 hours.

If that what it takes.

I’m back today.  I’m hooking up with the beautiful Stasha, her gigantic dog and her ever-growing boy for an all new Monday Listicles.

10 Chapters in a Book About Me

I’m writing mine in order, with explanations.

Chapter 1:  August 2, 1979

This is the last day of my first life and the first day of the rest of my life.  This night we were notified that my father had been killed in an on-duty motor vehicle accident en route to a mugging, in an unmarked vehicle.  I was 8-1/2 and one month from starting the 3rd grade.

Chapter 2:  School

I never liked school.   I was in the “Gifted and Talented Program,” which isn’t for smarter kids per se, but kids who think differently.  I never felt like I fit in.  I never had that one best friend.  From grade school to high school – blech.

Chapter 3:  September, 1989

Mom, knowing my insecurities and anxieties, used to tell me, “When you get to college you are going to find hundreds of Kimberlys.  You won’t know what to do with yourself.”  Even though I hated school, college was free to me thanks to LAPD so I gave it a go.  That’s where I met Lori, my best friend in the entire world for ever and ever.  She lives 40 minutes away and we maybe see each other once a year, but she calls when she senses I need her.  We’ve been there with each other through every milestone and my favorite part of her is she thinks my Crazy is, “part of my charm.”  I love her.

Chapter 4:  Most of my 20s

This marks the onset of my bipolar.  If you look up bipolar 2 and read the description of the behavior of someone who has bipolar I probably fit the first 10.  These were my destructive, dangerous, manic years interrupted by bouts of severe depression.

Chapter 5:  January 1995 to November 7, 2004

Met, dated, married, reproduced, bought and sold, moved and moved again and then more times, went into debt, got money, bought another home, and I finally came to my senses and sent him to live with the new Mrs.

Chapter 6:  Noah James

Born August 4, 1999.  No more intense love than that of my child.  The sweetest baby, the funniest little boy and now the in-between fresh teen years with his changing form and smartness of a different kind.  He’s pulled his way through many dramas in his young life and I couldn’t be more amazed by him.

Chapter 7:  Joseph Edward Pugliano

Hot Joe.  Sexy in his body, his scent, his humor, his gait, the way he moves his hands, his cooking, his building, his fixing, his knowledge of the most random stuff, his deep throaty voice, his fierce protection, his love for all creatures (even scary ones) and his pure maleness.  And he chose us.

Chapter 8:  The Newest Silent G

On June 15, 2012, accompanied by our very closest family, Joe became Noah’s legal father and Noah became Noah James Pugliano.  He was reborn, this time without the need for an epidural.

Chapter 9:  The Pups and Snickers

Working alone from home, my pups are with me for everything I do.  Their beds are behind my desk, they man the door when I pee, they follow me up and down the stairs when I do laundry and when I grab out of the basket under the TV they go bat shit crazy, because that’s where I keep the leashes.  Meanwhile, if I call either name – Luke or Allie – Snickers the cat will respond with a meow, running upstairs and jumping on my desk to discuss why I called her.

Chapter 10:  What’s to Come

Only good, I assure you.  Only great.