Tag Archives: humor

Washed, Dried, & Waiting to Wear: Why This Woman Sundenly Likes Laundry

26 Mar

Saturday landed me in the laundromat.  It wasn’t an all too terrible experience.  Besides the machines eating coins faster than I could dig them up from under the car seat (and from pockets of old coats and in-between couch cushions), it was nice to have all the laundry washed, dried, and folded in about two hours, give or take an hour since I don’t own a watch.

Usually I am doing laundry every waking minute of my life almost every day.  I know some people pile it all up and save it for a once-a-week marathon, but my washer tends to leak and it would be a full-on flood if I did twenty loads in one day.  Besides one of us is always running out of something, especially FringeMan.  I doubt he has enough work pants and sweatshirts to make it through a week.  So, I wash often, until my dryer died an untimely death and forced me to the laundromat.

I can only hang so many clothes in my house to dry before I get claustrophobic and feel like I’ve been sent to a sudsy purgatory.  Because the weather was cold and dreary, outside was not option.  It’s really never an option since I have nowhere discreet to hang clothes.  I doubt my neighbors want our undergarments waving in their windows.  Know what I mean?  We just don’t have much of a yard.

All those words and I could have just said, Saturday I went to the laundromat.  Why you stick with me, I’ll never understand, but I do appreciate.

So while I’m in the laundromat twiddling my thumbs and keeping my children from using a wayward sock they found as a slingshot to sail quarters through air, I thought how nice it would be to have multiple washers and dryers in my house.  I mean, imagine… not one, but two commercial size loaders whipping the dirt from clothes faster than you fill the hamper…it’s almost as good an idea as hiring a housekeeper.  Ok, not really, but it’s still a good idea.  Too bad Sears doesn’t have a two-for-one sale.

Sears, do hear me?  Your washers and dryers are too expensive!  Can I become a product tester or something?  We have lots of dirty clothes.

After I finished fantasizing about super-capacity red washers, I thought about how lucky I am to have a washer and dryer.  I could be walking to a creek to beat the body odor out of my son’s gym socks.  Praise the good Lord for modern conveniences!

Then I thought that in the olden days people wore their clothes multiple times before washing.  I mean, they must have.  They didn’t have many clothes to rotate.  My mind kept thinking.  I couldn’t stop it.  They only bathed once a week and I doubt they had deodorant.  Good heavens!  They must have stunk like dirty dogs in the rainy season.

I know what my son smells like after gym class and I force him to bathe daily, against his better judgement.  Imagine if we only bathed once a week?  Our furniture would smell like toe jam and armpits.  I have a terrible sense of smell and still, I think I would die of olfactory overload.  No amount of candles can cover week-old rot.

So this morning when I woke up to find the hamper full.  I did not even complain.  I just pushed the pile of clothes down as far as they’d go and determined to buy a bigger hamper.

I’ve decided I like laundry – clean, folded, and waiting to wear.

The end.

Spring: Time for Something New

23 Mar

Spring has sprung!  At least in New York.  I don’t know if winter will show his ugly face again, but I’m not even going to give it a second thought.  I’m too busy with something new.

You see, after a prompting by Stacey, the editor and fearless leader of An Army of Ermas, to try something new this spring, I kind of made it my mission.

First came a new cereal.

Chocolate Special K.  I know how ridiculous this seems, but honestly, I couldn’t avoid the temptation.  I needed cereal and Special K is a favorite of mine.  The lure of chocolate got victory over common sense and I bought a box.

I am happily mature enough to say, I like the Special K with strawberries better.  Despite popular opinion, mini-bars of chocolate are not what I crave first thing in the morning.

After I ate my chocolate Special K, I ventured out to the land of literary giants.  I attended a Literary Tea hosted in one of the historic homes in my town.  You may recall, I wrote about my fashion dilemma here.  The tea was stamped “approved” by a local British woman and the scones were lovely; however, I’m not sure I quite fit in with the literary tea drinking crowd.  I’m more of a cream-filled coffee and sweet cereal type of gal myself.

So I pressed on.  My next adventure took me…

You’ll have to visit me at An Army of Ermas!  I’m talking about my latest, greatest “new” over there.  So, come on over.  You know you won’t be able to sleep tonight until you find out what I did.

No clues.  I could have bungee-jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge or learned how to cook/not cook Sushi.  You’ll have to read to find out.  ;-)

Love you all!  Happy weekend to you.  All comments are appreciated over at the Ermas site instead of here.  See you there!

How NOT to Parent

22 Mar

FringeMan and I played a terrible little trick on my son the other day.  Remember when we almost got food poisoning from the questionable Mexican restaurant?  Well, after our dinner, we ran into Rite Aid so I could pick up a bottle of Benadryl.  I have histamines that think they are superheros.  Zyrtec and Singulair in the morning are not strong enough to stop them from causing chaos in my body, I have to throw a few Bendaryl into the mix just for fun.

As I strolled through the aisles, I spotted a end-cap full of cars.  Jokingly I said, “We should pick one of these up for FringeBoy and tell him we bought him a car.”

You see, my twelve year-old son is currently obsessed with getting an old car to fix up.  He wants it ready and waiting for when he turns sixteen, the legal driving age in New York.  He’s even checked Craigslist for good deals.

He has NO money.

“Oh, ya, we have to do this.”  My husband said.  “This is the exact kind of car he wants.”

The poor thing.  You should have seen his face light up like Times Square on New Year’s Eve when FringeMan exclaimed, “We found you a car!”  I think we broke his heart a little.

Now before you go and get too teary-eyed, he already got even with me.  Two nights ago I was laying on the couch watching a documentary with FringeMan when I just had to go to sleep.  It was the Benadryl fighting the super-hero histamine.

I headed off to bed, but with one pit-stop.  You guessed it – the bathroom.

When I flipped on the light switch and lifted the lid of the toilet seat, my heart jumped into my throat and I let out a scream.  There was an unsightly little black mouse sitting right on the seat. I about died.

We are even!

To tell you the truth, I think I may just be a teensy-bit behind him.  No fears.  I’ll get him when he least suspects it.

 

A Dr. Suess Kind of Day

14 Mar

FringeMan just returned after two weeks on the road.  I haven’t said anything, mainly because of all the blog stalking serial killers out there in url land.

What?  You didn’t know about them?

Oh, yes.  They are so real they live in our little blogger brains.  It’s called imaginative overload.  Before long you’ll be susceptible as well.

Before he left, FringeMan installed a new lock on our back door and I carried on as if he were hiding in the attic day after day.  Rumors of a bad guy attempting to break into my neighbor’s house drifted through the neighborhood, but I didn’t give it thought.  It all sounded suspicious to me.

I’m a professional private investigator you know.

What?  You didn’t know that either?

Oh, yes.  It began with Magnum P.I. and a book on picking locks.  Before my parents could worry, I was stalking the neighborhood, convinced the corner house was laundering money.  Turns out I wasn’t completely wrong.  The day the police staked out their house and took it by force may have been one of the proudest moments of my childhood.  I stood in the street, jumping up and down in circles, screaming, “I told you!  I told you!”

I think the laundry was full of drugs and not money, but still, I knew they were up to no good.

That’s why I played smooth these last two weeks.  Nobody would even miss FringeMan’s presence around town.  I was on the job, covering up for my elusive main squeeze.

Until Sunday.

Snow fell fast and furious Friday afternoon.  We didn’t see the sky until late Saturday morning, but then a strange climatic weather condition occurred.  Winter turned into late spring.  By Sunday afternoon the entire town was drawn from their musty homes.  It was sixty-five and sunny.  Traces of snow lurked in the shadows along with serial killers and would-be burglars.  It was a Dr. Seuss kind of day.

Dogs walked their owners

Children squealed while painting themselves with mud.

Geese flew overhead in v-patterns, frantic to get back to Canada.

Chubby women walked.

Hope ruled the world, even if just for one better than usual afternoon.

I sat on my front steps finishing the third book of The Hunger Games.  My son’s former teacher stopped by for a chat, the neighbors brought their puppy over, and every other walker yelled out “When does your husband come home?”

Gracious me.  The serial killers!  Didn’t you see them hiding behind that snow mound?  Or maybe it was behind that url.  I’m so mixed up.  Maybe it’s the snow one day and shorts the next, but I suspect it’s just an affliction I’ll battle the rest of my little life.  Imagination.

Oh Vanity of Vanities – Fiction Friday Revived

24 Feb

You may need a little background before you read this excerpt from my larger work of fiction (still very much in progress).  I drew inspiration from my own bad hair cut, wrote about it, and continued the story line.  It’s all purely fiction, but you can gain a little understanding if you go back and read about my bad hair cut.  Then you’ll understand where this entry picks up.

Not My Life is the story of a pastor’s wife, Patty, who believes privacy is for fitting rooms and confessionals.  She wants to share her story with the world, even if it’s sometimes at the expense of her dignity.

That’s as basic as the story line gets.  Yes, I draw from personal experience.  No, this is not my life.  It’s fiction.  Aka – imaginative, made-up, full of untruth.  It’s a story, plain and simple

**********************************************

March 27, 2012

I promised myself I was not going to leave the house today.  I asked God if one day of sulking would be too much to ask, and He reminded me of Jonah.  Jonah sulked after Ninevah repented, and I figure spiked bangs and chopped locks damaged my psyche nearly as much as being swallowed by a whale.

I cried for an hour yesterday afternoon.  I couldn’t help myself.  Frank still laughs every time he catches a glimpse of my hair.  I’ve asked him to please stop, but he says it’s out of his control.  It’s automatic, like a reflex.  He sees my hair, thinks back to the now famous ‘Cut of 2012’ and falls into uncontrollable giggling fits.

If I could just take my head off and leave it home…how I wish!

I stood at the bathroom mirror for forty-minutes today trying to fix what’s left of my hair into a style presentable for Easter Sunday.  Did I tell you I’m singing on Easter?  A solo!  After using half a bottle of mousse, I knew this haircut is God’s punishment for my vanity.  As I stand before our congregation and sing He Arose, I will wish with all my heart that an empty tomb will open and suck me into oblivion.  Oh vanity of vanities!

I never suspected things could get worse.  I’m already suffering the trials of Job himself, if he were a woman.  Since my hair is too atrocious for taming products, I resorted to using Jane’s miniature claw clips.  When I finished wrangling my hair, I looked a little like Lady Liberty, only my spikes were pastel.  An entire row of rainbow clips framed my face.  If I were an Easter egg, I might be styling, but I am the minister’s wife!  I am singing on Sunday.  God (and maybe miracle grow) is the only one who can help me now.

So I turned to Him in prayer.

An Easter bonnet.  I’m sure he spoke that thought right into my very heart. So I grabbed my windbreaker from the hall closet and slipped one of Frank’s Yankee’s caps over the line of rainbow clips in my hair.  Swinging my bag over one shoulder, I headed out the door. To Macy’s I would go!

Walking through the door, I scanned the the brightly lit aisles filled with the pinks and greens of spring.  God bless Macy’s.  I didn’t see a familiar soul on the entire first floor, so I ventured in.  From three aisles away, I spied the perfect hat, wide-brimmed and floppy.  It was the color of not- too- summery butter-cream.  As my eyes locked on my millinery savior,  holy hands flew to the sky.  Unfortunately I quit paying attention to those around me and crashed right into the back of Mrs. Merryman.  Her generous skirt rose like a hot air balloon, and she landed on my left foot with a thump that rumbled the second floor.  I looked down and noticed my shoes – lime-green, cheese-thin flip-flops, and that’s not the worst of it.  My feet were cold early this morning, so I borrowed Frank’s wool hunting socks.  Apparently in my haste to hide my hair, I forgot to take them off.

Our jumble of hands and skirts attracted an extremely large crowd of eyewitnesses.  Frank would have been jealous.  I had a larger audience than he does on a pot-luck Sunday, and you know how many people show up for food!

Mrs. Merryman forgives me, or so she claims.  She was quite miffed sitting in her heap of pleated skirt and store bags.  I can’t blame her.  I barely forgive myself.   She didn’t utter the words “I’m sorry” until I swallowed my last little bit of pride and took off the Yankees cap.

Actually, her hand flew to her mouth.  It was hanging like she had loose hinges on her jaw, and she said, “Oh, my lands!  Who did that to you?”

Before I could tell her, she sucked in a breath that seemed to deplete all oxygen from the air, and muttered in a barely audible whisper, “It was Helen. Wasn’t it?  I’m so very sorry my dear.”

One single tear walked from my right eye to my chin.  Then it fell on my water-proof windbreaker. Macy’s went silent.  I swear I heard the tear-drop hit the floor.

Thankfully Mrs. Merryman can still walk.  She said she’ll be in the third pew from the front on Sunday, waiting to see me on stage in my new hat.  I’ll look like a cross between Audrey Hepburn and Lady Gaga.  I wonder if I’ll make headlines in the Happy Valley Herald?  I only hope Frank will thank me for the publicity, otherwise, he’ll probably call Helen back to finish scalping me.

It’s So Not My Life,

Patty

************************************

Now, I’d love for you to join me in Fiction Friday.  If you’d like to share a little fiction today, please leave your link in the comments.  This weekend I will take the time to read all the linked posts.  I can’t wait!

All I ask from you is that you grab my nifty Fiction Friday button my sidebar and proudly display it your post.  Also, please link back to this post.  Thank you!

Hope you all enjoy your weekend.

P.S.  I created a facebook page for The Domestic Fringe.  I thought it might make staying in touch easier.  You can click the “Like” button in the upper right corner of my sidebar and we’ll be friends forever.  I promise to “Like” you back. ;-)

The Day My Cell Phone Aged Me

15 Feb

This past weekend I lost my cell phone.  Since it was my birthday, I chalked it up to age and hoped my next mishap wasn’t losing my teeth.

Don’t worry about the cell phone.  My son found it for me.  I think children are hard-wired to locate items of modern technology.  It’s a skill similar to radar devices that detect heat-seeking missiles.

But, on Saturday, my phone was lost.

I wasn’t worried.  You see, I haven’t spent money on a phone in years.  Oh, I pay for the service, just not the telephone.  It’s my dirty little secret.  I collect, some say hoard, old cell phones and chargers.  I take all the reject phones from friends and family and put them to good use.  I like to think of myself as a recycler rather than a techno-moocher.

Saturday was my big birthday shopping excursion and I found myself in a mall that makes a football stadium seem small.  I took FringeKid and told my husband and son I’d give them a call later and we could meet up for a bite to eat in the food court.  I discovered my missing phone when hunger pangs struck.

Since I was near H&M, I figured I’d browse and then ask a clerk to use the phone.  The young men behind the counter broke out into laughter when I inquired about a phone.  Apparently a person without a cell phone is a like a person without ears, only more hysterical.

So I set out in search of an older, wiser, hopefully more helpful sales clerk.  Lord & Taylor was nearby.  Generally when I go into a store like Lord & Taylor, I am ignored.  Maybe they recognize the Target clothes on me.   I guess I look like I cannot afford their merchandise, and it’s mostly true.  My daughter usually gives us away when she picks up a price-tag and yells $298 dollars!  It’s all awe and wonder for her.  She’s only familiar with $19.99.

So I found a lovely clerk at the makeup counter, mustered my courage and asked.

“Excuse me.  I have a crazy request for you.  I seem to have misplaced my cell phone, and I am wondering if I can borrow the store phone for a quick call?”

“That’s not too crazy.”  She said.  “Believe me, I’ve had people ask for worse things.”

“Really?  Worse than asking for a store phone, because the guy with the eight inch gauged earlobes in H&M thought that was a request from some time in space, like way back in the 90′s or something.”

Stuck in an aging gloom that wrinkle cream couldn’t help, I considered all the outdated things I cling to.  I mean, I still have a VCR in my house.  I felt technologically stunted, deficient in the new ways of an ever-changing world.  I felt like my cell-phone came with an antenna.

I was aging right in front of my ten year-old baby girl, and feeling older than my usual twenty-nine until a women in Macy’s stopped me and asked for my help.

“Excuse me dear.  Do you know how to work a cell phone?”  She asked.

“Well the nineteen year-old in H&M doesn’t think so, but let me give it a try.”

She explained how she was trying to take a picture of some leopard-print stilettos for her daughter, but couldn’t get her cell-phone to cooperate.  I grabbed the phone, scrolled through the options, flipped it over in my hand and said, “I’m so sorry, but your phone doesn’t have a camera.”

In that moment, all the pieces of my old-fashioned world fell into place.  I knew there was hope for me and my outdated technology, because my lost cell-phone has a camera.  I wanted to hug that woman with the antique cell phone.  She gave me the greatest gift of all – my youth.

My Birthday Saga, Part I

13 Feb

My birthday weekend began with chocolate covered strawberries and ended with chicken parmesan.  Thanks to FringeMan, it was pretty much perfect.

In the quest to accept another number and a few more gray hairs while keeping my sanity dignity intact, I hosted a Pampered Chef party on Friday night.  There’s nothing like kitchen-ware to make a woman feel young.

So not true, but it was fun to host a little party and watch as another woman cooked white chicken chili in my house.  For a moment, I knew how it would feel to have my own personal chef – Pure Unadulterated Bliss.  I could handle not having to scrounge through the cabinets at five-thirty wondering what in the world I’m going to create for dinner.

After everyone went home and  FringeMan and I finished consuming the leftover strawberries, I sat down to remove my sock and slipper.  Yes, I did wear slippers to my party, but in my bad-fashion defense, my foot tried to put me in one of those motorized scooters before my thirty-seventh birthday.  It swelled up like a plump tomato ready to burst through its skin on a sunny day in August.  It was hot and it hurt.  Did I mention the pain I ignored until ten o’clock at night?

A lump seemed to be forming on the bone about a half-inch under my toe, but it was hard to tell.  The swelling camouflaged any specific cause.  After elevating my foot with a bag of frozen vegetables on top, FringeMan thought I should go get it get it checked out.  You see, we had plans to go away on a little overnight the next day.  For my BIRTHDAY!

So I went.

Holding my foot in his hand, the doctor ran through a list of diseases that ranged from allergic reactions to a cyst that may need to be drained.  I stopped him briefly at flesh-eating disease.  You don’t utter words that may cause my skin to drip off my bones twenty-four hours before my birthday.  I think there’s an oath about that.

In the end, the doctor said, “I don’t know what it is, but your foot seems pretty pissed off.”

A pissed off foot – my official diagnosis.  So I went home armed with ice-packs, Advil, and a prescription for antibiotics in case my flesh began melting, or eating, or any other devilish pre-birthday verb.

I know you’re wondering what my foot looks like now…the swelling is gone, but I’m left with a hard knot on the top of my foot and it still hurts.  I’ll have to call and make a doctor’s appointment, but for a few more minutes, I’m going to hope that it disappears as quickly as it came to dash my hope of buying cute shoes for my birthday.

Remember these?

Seychellis Asterisk Tan/Red

I didn’t buy them.  Yet.  I’m waiting on my foot before I send $67.99 sailing through the internet.

On Saturday, I did manage to find something fabulous though, but alas, I’ve used too many words.  You’ll have to wait for My Birthday Saga, Part II.

Thank you for all the warm birthday wishes.  I am blessed.

My Idea of a Super Bowl

5 Feb

Superbowl

The question on everyone’s mind -

GIANTS

or

patriots

I think you know where the FringeFamily stands in this bowl.

Throwing Red & Pink M&M’s Your Way

1 Feb

Hey Peeps!

Ok, I never say peeps, but I have marshmallow chicks on the mind.  I am dieting you know.

Let’s kick this month of love off the right way, with Romance on a Budget.  That’s what I’m talking about today at An Army of Ermas.

Come visit me and I promise you’ll laugh, you’ll cry, you’ll love…ok, so maybe you’ll just snicker, but it’s still worth a click over.

Now here’s where the favor comes in…

Do you ever get sick of me asking for favors?

Of course you do, but this is just one more.  I promise!

*fingers and toes crossed*

When you visit me at the Ermas site, please leave a comment over there and not on my blog.  Well, you can leave two comments if you wish.  I do enjoy some comment love, but it’s not necessary.  The only way to know if a certain article is well received or not is to to judge it based on comments.  That gets confusing if half the comments are here and half there.

I hope you understand.

Now go visit An Army of Ermas. :-)

Throwing red & pink m&m’s your way,

Just so you know I didn’t jump off a bridge…

25 Jan

Ok, last post was pretty depressing.  Sorry about that.  I’m taking full liberty with my calendar and blaming it on January, but I have birthday party for my son this weekend and there’s no time to be sad and moody.

This may be the most random post in the history of the fringe, but work with me people.  The last post had me giving up on life.  This has to be an improvement.

*  I’ve discovered the cure for stomach problems that have plagued me for years.  I have what they term IBS.  I won’t get into it, because it would be like discussions around a holiday table with my family.

Just know that heartburn and other issues plague me, no matter what I eat; however, I started a diet on January 2.  Don’t get excited, because I’ve only lost 4 pounds.  You can tell I cheat a lot.

image via Pinterest

My point is that on the days I’m on my diet, I eat about 6 times throughout the course of the day, but I only consume about 1400-1500 calories.  That means I eat really low-calorie, but filling things in small portions.  It totally cures my stomach ills.  The moment I over-eat or just eat 3 normal size portions, I’m sick.  It’s incredible.

Who knew I would have to become a bird after I turned thirty.  No one told me!

image via Pinterest

* I really am trying to stick to my diet, but it’s hard.  You know?  I’m more like a turkey than I am a parakeet.  FringeMan wishes I was more of a love bird, but that’s another story.

* I’m thinking all “love” posts for February.  Now don’t get panicky and jump ship (no offense Mr. Italian Captain), because I’m not going mushy for a whole month.  There’s lots to love in this world, and I’m trying to tap my elusive creative side.

* I’ve decided that I want a really cute new pair of shoes and a new bag for my birthday.  My birthday is in February, but I’ll probably shop in April or so.  That’s what happens when your birthday is after Christmas and both your children’s birthdays.  It’s all good with me though.  I think it prolongs the aging process.  I gain a few months, because a birthday isn’t a birthday until you’ve bought yourself a present.

Someone needs to write that down and claim it.

*  I don’t know where to shop for cute shoes and a bag.  I’m looking for stylin’, groovin’, chic, classy, comfortable, cute, trendy shoes.  I’m thinking Anthropologie on a Payless budget.

Help a girl out.  Suggest a few places please.

I know Payless has some cute shoes.  I’ve seen them on bloggers, but my Payless pretty much specializes in sneakers and lame-oh shoes.  Sorry Payless.  I know you purchase especially for the clientele you sell to, but there are a few of us who don’t where our pajamas grocery shopping.

Maybe that was mean, but I’ve taken to counting how many people I see in pj’s in Wal-Mart.  Is that snobby of me?

I simply have a difficult time understanding why people want to be seen in public looking like that.  I hide from mirrors in my own home when I look like that.

* I bought a box of ‘Cuties’ at the grocery store today.  Everyone’s been raving about them.  So far they live up to their name, but I haven’t eaten one yet.  I’ll let you know.

Now it’s your turn – What’s the random in your life?

And, don’t tell me if you wear pajamas to the grocery store.

Ok, you can tell me, but I’m adding another check mark to my list and you’ll end up in my total number of pj wearers.  Just a warning. ;-)

Thank you all for your kind comments yesterday.  I appreciate each of you.

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