ammogirl

So I suppose you are waiting eagerly and fairly impatiently for me to tell you of my Italy trip? Yes, well…please continue doing so, until tomorrow. This is in no small part due to the freaking essay I just had to write on “Diogenes and Alexander” by Gilbert Highet, a charming example of “compare/contrast”. And the fact that, yes, I am such a teacher’s pet that I am up late finishing said essay on the very first day it was assigned, because hi, there is no waiting until the last day for me. College classes, you guys. I hate them.

Regardless! I will return tomorrow, with, um…fairly amusing tales of Italy and…pretty much no pictures. What! I was too busy eating and drinking! And working! Sometimes!

Tschuss!!

You guys, how much do I love you? I woke up early this morning just to write a post for you before I head to Italy. It’s another inspection, like the one I did while in England this past January.  But this time I’m headed here, where I’m…pretty positive I’ll drink to complete excess and gain five pounds in less than a week. This time, however, I will have pictures, because I have threatened the people I am going with with my Mad Ninja Skilz if they even think about deleting anything from my camera this time. I think they are scared. On a side note, in that link I worked hard over providing to you so you should totally go look at it, you non link-clickers, did you happen to notice the part that said “…at the foot of the Italian Alps”? Are you appropriately jealous?
Of course, the drawback is very irregular internet access, so. If, though, I get a shot at some internet time I will totally forgo that extra glass of wine JUST to post…ha ha ha! That’s such a lie! How about this…I’ll take pictures of me DRINKING that extra glass of wine, and then post them when I get back. Yes! That is a fabulous idea! Oh, I AM a smart one, aren’t I?

Anyway, we’re driving down there, and we leave in…one hour? Crap. Ummm…I should probably go.

Tschuss!!

You guys, I am now officially the parent of a teenager. Lindsey turned 13 yesterday in an absolutely perfect display of how you want your child’s birthday to go. Her friends baked her a cake and brought it to school, and it was decorated with a big ol’ photo of Blake Lewis, and she had flowers delivered to school, and her sister cooked her a small dinner, and she loved all her presents and when I put her to bed (yes, I still do that…what?) she hugged me tight and said “Mom, this was my best birthday ever. Thank you.” It was pretty fabulous, and definitely one of those days you tuck away in the memory bank, when you have a daughter, or any teen, I suppose.

I can remember being 13, can’t you? I turned 13 in 1984, a few days before 8th grade started, and some key things happened that year that I…really hope my daughter doesn’t do when she is 13. For example:

1. I started off the year winning a “panty contest”. (oh my god, I just remembered that, by the way…I’ll have to tell you about that one)
2. I had my first kiss
3. I…oh wait, I’ll skip that.
4. I got drunk for the first time. On a cruise ship, with my parents. (With my parents THERE, not “with my parents”, they had NO idea. Or…wait…mom? When you gave me that dramamine for seasickness, you TOTALLY smelled the rum punch, didn’t you?)
5. Totally under the spell of the 15-year-old very bad girl I was hanging out with on the same cruise, I snorted crank! I did! And then I spent the next 22 years thinking “crank is not bad” because that’s what Kina, the bad girl, told me, and it wasn’t until just LAST YEAR that I googled “crank” and found out…you guys! CRANK IS BAD! Very bad! Kina was a liar!

Anyway, you get the point. Which is: holy crap, I hope I don’t read Lindsey’s blog in 23 years and see a list similar to mine. Excuse me for a moment while I go lock her in her room.

Tschuss!!