BLENDING IN

I like to stay anonymous on the road. I like black or white cars with no flashy accessories. Well, I have to admit to having a "peace frog" sticker adorning the spare tire on my back bumper...but nothing more than a little splash of color. I also have a huge monkey, who sits in a booster seat in my backseat, but with my tinted windows no one sees him. He's merely there for company and passenger entertainment.

Yesterday I was sitting at a red light, when I spotted a huge rolling orange heading toward me, about three blocks away. I just gaped at this car when it finally reached my intersection. It was an older model Chevy, bright, bright orange. The chrome on the wheels was trimmed out in orange. The car had been lifted so you'd need a small step ladder to climb into it. (or at least I would cause white girls don't jump) Behind the wheel was a huge black man, so large his belly was up against the steering wheel. His windows were rolled down, the bass on his stereo turned up so loud...MY car started vibrating. After the initial shock of it all wore off I looked at the driver and couldn't help smiling at the big grin on his face. He obviously thought he was the "shit" and I was happy for him.

I wouldn't even want to be a passenger in a car like that. Forget the stress of having to figure out how to climb in and out...the stares of fellow road travelers and pedestrians would make me want to crawl under the dash.

Years ago I owned a copper Mazda. It was the first time that color had ever been on the road. I traded the car in six months later because of all the stares it got. I considered buying a Volkswagen bug when they first reissued them, but I knew I'd have to have a bright blue one and cover it in flowers. Not exactly non-descript. I don't want a sports vehicle either cause I'd order it in bright red and it's a known fact that red cars get stopped by police more than any other color car. I've got a heavy foot...so I want to stay as ghost like as possible on the road.

Nope, I'll keep my lovely low key black RAV4. The peace frog is really just so I can identify my car in parking lots. It's a very, very popular model. Ahhhh anonymity.

WOMAN OVERBOARD?

Suggestion: If you are preparing to go on your first ever cruise...do NOT watch Deadly Honeymoon. This is a movie about a couple on a honeymoon cruise and he suddenly disappears...apparently he went overboard...and she is the suspect.

We will be cruising at the end of this month and now...I've got to be sure I don't stand too close to the rails, while my husband has his hand on my back. Of course with my over active imagination I can picture all kinds of "lost at sea" scenarios. I plan on canceling the small life insurance policy we have on me and I'll be sure to let my husband know there is no monetary value to me taking a midnight swim over the side of our ship. I'm also sending out this blog so everyone will know I'm gonna be on board a floating death trap and if I disappear you can get in touch with the authorities.

Okay folks, just kidding. If my hubby wanted to get rid of me he'd put arsenic in my coffee, not try to shove me off a ship with thousands of potential witnesses. But just in case...I made sure we didn't get a room with a balcony. I mean why tempt fate, huh?

HAIR TODAY, PROBABLY NOT GONE TOMORROW

For the past two days I have spent about an hour each day standing in a pile of hair. No, this isn't some kinky new turn-on I've discovered. It's simply that time of year when my dog leaves hairballs all over the house. Hair falls off him by the handful.

I hate seeing this hair all over, so the elimination process must begin. The excess hair doesn't bother my dog, but the removal of it does. I have to sneak the FURminator DeShedding Tool out of the closet and then try to coax the dog over to me. He always gets this look in his eyes and stands staring at me. "Why is she using the high pitched baby choocie coo voice? She must be going to do something I hate." He'll then tuck his tail between his legs and try to slink away. At which point I will grab him by his collar and drag him to the grooming area, as he sits and tries to make this process as difficult as possible.

I am always in awe of how much hair I remove from him. I think I could probably comb him every day and still get grocery bags full of hair. I'm a recycle type gal and hate to throw stuff away, so I'm considering storing the bags of hair in our garage over the summer. Then this fall I'll begin working on creating Christmas gifts for friends and family. Oh, oh, I can see people crossing my name off their Christmas gift exchange list already. HA, SWEET!

SHOWERS OF TESTOSTERONE

I love baby showers. I love the glow on the mother's face, the fun games, the laughter and the smiles and the "aaaahhhs" when the gifts are opened.

Sunday I attended a shower for the daughter-in-law of a friend. Seems like just yesterday I was attending baby showers for my friends and now so many of them are going to be grandparents. The circle of life.

This shower was different because the husbands were invited to attend. Women based events really take a twist when testosterone is thrown into the mix. Suddenly things that seemed so sweet and natural become fodder for jokes and laughs. Mostly male laughter, although the women did get a few giggles out of the raunchiness of the men. Nose syringes, gas medicine, anything related to nipples or breasts, hell...even nail clippers were the objects of amusements.

My husband summed it up very well, after the third fart joke, "this is why you DON'T invite men to a baby shower." Amen, brotha, Amen!

THE ELEPHANT IN THE ROOM

We have an elephant living in our downstairs bathroom. I never actually see him, but I do hear him...every time we flush the toilet. I forget that he's there till I flush. A few seconds later I can hear his mournful moan fill the house.

We could get rid of the elephant. But it might mean replacing the inner workings of the toilet and I don't believe the elephant annoys my husband nearly as much as it does me. Maybe it's because I am home more and I get to hear it trumpeting five or six times a day. Maybe it's because I'm a woman and shit like this really bothers us.

I haven't asked him to kill the elephant. His brother silenced it for a brief while when he was visiting a couple of months ago. I guess I should have paid attention to what he did. Something about a hose and moving it and blah, blah, blah. I still say "toilet" issues should not be my project.

It's gonna be embarrassing when we have company over and they ask, "what the hell is that noise?". I intend to answer, "oh that's just our elephant in the bathroom, but the great white hunter in our family won't kill it." Husbands sometimes need motivation.