Archives for October 2010

Cal: So, Mommy, I hear you have a blog.

Me: Yep, I sure do.

Cal: Has anyone talked to you about internet safety?

Me: Um.

Cal: Just remember YAPPY, Mommy. Did you tell anybody this stuff?

• Y- Your Name
• A- Address
• P- Phone Numbers
• P- Passwords
• Y- Your Plans

Me: Why isn’t it just NAPPY? Or NAPPP? Why is it your name and your plans? That’s hard to remember. See, I already forgot.

Cal: Be real, Mommy. I’m trying to save your life.

Me: Cal, you’re the bestest kid ever. That’s why you get to live here for free. No, honey, I absolutely did not tell a soul that my name is Elizabeth or that I live in Los Angeles, just down the street from Trader Joe’s. No one is ever going to know that I spend most of my days at home and that the front door is usually unlocked. And sweetie, even if someone did come in unannounced, I have that pepper spray cleverly hidden on the right side of the bed, underneath the mattress. I’ve never told anybody about that secret weapon.

Every Monday, I’m picking from the List of Things to Try, Places to Go, Possible Acts that Help and Possible Fun to Have. It’s a list I made before The Project started and I’m still adding to it. If you have suggestions, please, feel free to throw them my way. I’m calling the list my Monday Dares, as I get overwhelmed just looking at the words “challenge” or “goal.”

This week: I will leave other people’s junk valuable possessions alone.

By other people, I mean my family.

By alone, I mean I will no longer throw away anything when they are not at home.

I will practice honesty and integrity with my family.

By honesty and integrity, I mean I will now wait until they get home and badger the life out of them until they either donate or throw away the offending item.

Are hole-y socks more comfortable?

Is underwear with crispy elastic easier to wear? What’s crispy elastic? Please don’t feign ignorance. You’ve never held on to a pair of socks or ratty underwear so long that the rubber loses all malleability and when you stretch it, it makes an actual creaking noise and then it just stayed stretched?

I don’t want to single anyone out, but someone I live with in my home, who is not a 10-year-old girl and to whom I share a marriage bed, owns a pair of charcoal gray slacks that are so worn, the dry cleaner calls every time we drop them off to verify that we do, indeed, want them cleaned.

I will no longer stuff the slacks in the bottom of our give-away bag and pretend not to know anything when  this someone asks where they are with a little glint of suspicion in his eyes.

I will no longer throw away my family’s hole-y socks with the crispy elastic, only to be met with complaints and accusations that my biggest satisfaction in life is to throw their stuff away. They will learn on their own how uncomfortable it is to wrestle a sock that falls just a centimeter with each step, eventually bunching up inside the shoe, causing the wearer to stop, pull the sock up and repeat the process 87 seconds later.

When they come to their senses, I’ll be waiting on my pedestal where I should have been all along…with a garbage bag in my hand.

photo via jcrew.com