Splendid

This post is just a photo dump -- stuff that I think is splendid these days.

This picture. She is all, "What the hell kind of resort is this? There are CHICKENS here. Where is my lemonade? I WAS PROMISED LEMONADE. God, these people."

This car. I was lucky enough to park next to this car yesterday, and my Jetta felt 100% sexier just from being Mustang-adjacent. Like, I hate most American cars in general, and Fords in particular, but I am a sucker for old muscle cars. I have no defenses against that demographic. This one floored me. I actually gawked. It is FANTASTIC. Even the orange color is phenomenal. No idea who it belongs to, and I should find out, because I am pretty sure all the testosterone in the air made my car pregnant. For serious. I know my car wants to have this cars babies, that's for sure. I think I want to have this car's babies.

This sky. The weather has been perfect for the last few days, absolutely perfect, warm but not hot and close to zero humidity, and the sky has been such a brilliant blue that I feel like everything is in some kind of goosed-up Technicolor. I mean, COME ON, even the clouds are pretty. This is the best possible argument for opening the windows and getting the hell outside that I can possibly make.

This kid. I got to drive her to school this morning, and it was one of the best mornings I have had in a long time. Yes, I am totally THAT PARENT, who dressed her kid in red-white-and-blue for school on the last day before 4th of July. So what? That shirt is from last summer, and I got those shorts for a dollar. She's adorable, seriously. And I will make any excuse I can for putting that ribbon barrette in her hair, because I love it.

Seriously, THIS KID.

One Big Happy

More pictures from the family photoshoot over the weekend. And further proof that I am grossly unqualified to work with children. Or animals. Or anything that moves, really. I should probably stick to still-lifes of plastic fruit.

I like the first and third pictures best, because they're the least "stagey-looking," even though this whole thing was basically staged. The wicker chair was Shae's idea, and it's kind of brilliant. She's already better than me.

SHUT UP. We are a fair-skinned people, and sun protection is essential. My sister had hair that light and that fine until she was, like, 15 years old. And at random intermittent points, it was PERMED.

There are several different versions of the grandparents-and-grandkids picture in my photostream, but this one is the best overall. I like Joey's smile better in one of them, and the way Shae is sitting in a different one, but at least in this one everyone is looking in the same approximate direction. And this is the best version of the picture of the parents-kids-and-grandkids. My kid's hair is going to be as big as my butterfly bush one of these days, I swear to God, and my butterfly bush ate Cleveland.

(And no, I don't know why it looks like my boobs are crooked, and one of them looks to be the same size and shape as a watermelon with a glandular problem. I assure you, they are basically cantaloupes.)

This one is just here because my sister basically triple-dog-dared me to post it. HA! Sucker.

Family Resemblance

Among the many things about my nephew that I can't get over -- how small he used to be, how big he is now, how much he's grown and changed already, how much more growth and change there will be, how woefully unprepared I am to deal with all of this, how much even more so my sister must be -- but among all these things, the two things I have the most trouble dealing with are how much this kid looks like my sister ...

... and how much this kid acts like my daughter.

Guess the question of nature v. nuture is settled, right? It's both.

Cheap Trick at Budokan

Oh, will you look at that ... an Illinois reference AND a Japan reference, all in the same title, to head up a blog post about our Great Big Giant-Ass Family Dinner at Benihana in Schaumburg! Sadly, the title is the best part of this entry, because I used the crap-cam to take pictures at the restaurant, because who the hell wants to lug that humongous Nikon out for supper? (HINT: Not this pathetic-ass lazy blogger.)

Anyway ... who's hungry?

Did anyone bring anything for heartburn? Hardy-har-har.

We've been to Benihana for dinner before, when we went to Florida on vacation in February. For whatever reason -- perhaps it is the Nannypop factor, or the Joey factor, or the Silly Paper Chef Hat Menu factor -- this dinner was more memorable.

Don't let anybody tell you my kid doesn't eat vegetables, because she does. She loves salad. When we have dinner at home, sometimes she will sweet-talk individual pieces of lettuce before she chows down. I don't even bother wondering whether this is normal behavior any more, because ... really, is there anything that 2½-year-olds do that can be considered "normal"? (HINT: Hells naw.)

This is a Japanese pop-pop. Totally gratuitious, but I guess we all know where Shae's cuteness comes from.

Our Statistician Is Marge Innovera

I had to go get Shae some new clothes yesterday, because she's growing like a weed and none of her pants fit any more. (Yes, I know this is boring.) This has been an ongoing problem for us, this "new clothes every six months" thing, because she's kind of a tomboy (or perhaps Mommy is projecting?) and nothing seems quite "right" because everything seems to be violently pink and overtly sexual, even for the toddlers.

I mean, really: in what particular circumstances, honestly, would a bare midriff and low-rise pants be appropriate on a two-year-old in October? Or ever, for that matter? (Guess who hates low-rise pants because OH MY GOD the sciatica? And also OH MY GOD the love handles?)

Anyway, we're lucky to have a designer outlet mall near us, and in one of the shops there, I saw this dress --

I really kind of dig it, but I opted not to get it. Now I think I might be regretting changing my mind, but I just don't know. (Go figure.) I was going to get a pair of gray stockings for Shae to wear under it (and I already have a pair of purple leggings from the same store which would also match), and she has this adorable pair of sparkly purple sneakers that she could wear with it.

But I think my husband will hate it (and he definitely won't know what to do with her hair). Since I won the pick-'em football pool this week, I am thinking about going back and picking it up with the cash.

(Incidentally, I think I could rock the shit out of this, because it's totally my cup of Earl Grey ... if they made it in my size, which of course they do NOT, because why should a woman with real hips and actual breasts be allowed to wear anything cute? FASCISTS.)

So ... ?

WTF!? Friday: Gleaming, Streaming, Flaxen, Waxen

I'm usually not really sure what I'm going to blog about until I actually start writing, but I assure you, I never in a million bajillion years thought that I would ever take up valuable bandwith talking about ... oh my God, I can't even say it, so here: let me show you instead.

This lovely woman is Shannon Waters, and she's a contestant on "Survivor: Samoa," the current (19th!!) season of one of my favorite shows. She's 45, from Renton, Washington, and she is the first female Marine Sergeant to play the game. At the moment, she does not annoy me, so she is allowed to live.

And let's not avoid the elephant in the room: she is also rocking one of the world's most spectacular fe-mullets.

Is this ... a thing, now? Because I am seeing more and more fe-mullets in the wild (if you can consider my office building in the suburbs, just off the Main Line, to be the "the wild"), and I would be remiss if I did not admit to being more than a little bit ... horrified. Scared for my life, even.

I am not really one to judge people on the basis of their hair; I myself have locks that are, on a good day, the approximate color and texture of moldy hay. My hair is baby-fine and poker-straight and, lately, ponytail-resistant. The Guinness people have not yet certified my collection, but I believe that I have one of the largest collections of scrunchies still in captivity, and I don't care if they "went out of style" five or five hundred years ago -- they can have them when they pry them from my cold, dead hands.

Damn dirty apes.

But this whole mullet thing, I just do not understand. A girl I know, who is young and tall and thin and stylish and probably lovely enough to win "America's Next Top Model," she recently got her hair cut into a sort of mullet-y ... thing. I don't know how else to describe it. She loves it, so I am in no position to judge, but I just don't get it. Like, she deliberately paid someone large American dollars to do that to her head? She wants people to mistake her for a hockey fan -- or worse, for a Canadian?

And don't even get me started on the return of leggings and, for the love of God, fucking stirrup pants. No, thank you. If this is what is passing for style these days, then I will continue to dress like Dorothy Zbornak in a bad Ann Jillian wig. Plus, everybody knows that there is really only one woman on Earth who actually looks good in a mullet, anyway:

Congratulations to the new sexiest man in all of baseball: J-Roll. Way to win that MVP! Much deserved, indeed. Hardware is HOTT.

Things That Are Sexy Right This Very Minute:

10. Chuck on NBC, Monday nights at 8pm - Because I ♥ Nerds

9. Anybody who beats the Yankees - Bonus points because: Grady Sizemore! Squee!

8. Gossip bloggers who are bitchier than I am - Plus, pink hair! (Sometimes!)

7. High-definition television

6. House on Fox, Tuesday nights at 9pm - Because I ♥ Snarky Bad-Asses

5. Scrapple, sliced thin, and fried until crispy on the outside but still mushy inside - with ketchup

3 (Tie). #26

3 (Tie). #11

2. American sports cars - Mustangs & Corvettes especially

1. Shutouts in the playoffs

Oh! And Matt Damon (note: NOT Tom Brady)!