Category Archives: Piecemeal

My rich fantasy life. It’s all about the cheese.

Dammit Janet. After the writer’s strike, I was totally primed to boycott Grey’s Anatomy, and they go and play the cancer couple in love card. Bastards. SO not fair.

<insert awkward segue>

And speaking of all things medical, between you Doogs, my boyfriend Web M.D., and my city friend Harris — who called me after reading the heart attack post, with a “Dude. You totally have gallstones.” — you got my attention. And when Harris mentioned that nuts and olives can be a trigger for gallstone attacks … well …

… considering I bought a jumbo jug of nuts at Costco last week, and ate half the container in the days before the ER incident, not to mention a fair amount of olives … let’s say I’ve been sufficiently persuaded to consult a doctor. I’ll give it a week or so.

Had I known this Wednesday, when I was working the Women’s Conference, I might have altered my eating habits.

Starting with eliminating the consumption of 10 pounds of olives. (That’s part of the actual conference grazing ground above.)

I still would’ve participated in the cheese fountain feed, which in theory, grosses me out, but in reality is DREAMY.

By the time the event was over, you better believe I was having fantasies of utilizing that fountain for a hot and cheesy foot bath. And after two glasses of red, the fantasy expanded to a full-blown, full-body queso dip bath. With a side of tortilla chips. And maybe some salsa. Nom nom nom.

And speaking of dreamy …

Double dammit. Now Grey’s ends the episode with Meredith and McDreamy in an impossibly romantic candlelit floor plan of their future house on a hilltop?!? I don’t want to love it, but I do.

They just keep SUCKIN’ me back in. My food fantasies and I are goin’ to bed.


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I know it was just Easter, and I should try to lay off the coveting, but I can’t.

Covet, covet, covet.


Because it’s the camera Moosh in Indy uses, and her photos are beautiful. San Diego Momma takes some gorgeous photos of her kids though too. I should probably comparison shop.

Not Yet Revealed Mommypie Fact: I have a degree in film, believe it or not (the moving kind). And I used to be so into the whole hands-on darkroom experience. It’s just been … awhile. Chika-chika old skool.

MP’s been coveting too.


For the past six months, every time we’ve gone through the checkout at WalMart, without fail, she picks up the little $2.99 camera and my future thespian — master of the doggie-in-the-window-I’m-so-cute-you-want-to-take-me-home- don’t-you expression — sweetly peers up at me and asks if she can have it. Every time I say no. It’s really sad. Because, in all honesty, I’m usually exhausted, chances are she has some other treat in the cart, and she doesn’t need it. Big Giant Buzzkill Mommy. So she was surprised and elated to find it in her basket Easter morning. I’m not all THAT bad.

As for my little treat, unfortunately, it’s gonna take more than a pitiful look to earn. I suppose I’ll wait for that economic stimulus check to arrive. And as much as it pains me to admit, I suppose I’ll do just what the government is telling me to do — spend it.

I know, the responsible thing would be to pay down some debt. And Lord knows I’m responsible.

I’m always responsible.


So, this time, I think I’m maybe entitled to take a pass on responsible, yes? This once?


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A New Level of Sophistication

Tonight, MP’s sense of humor reached a new level of sophistication, which in all honesty, blows me away. This is totally going to sound like I made it up, but I swear it’s ALL true.

About an hour ago, I left her in the tub for a few minutes to quickly wash my face in the second bathroom. I had just dried off with the towel when I heard Naked Girl padding down the hall. (Nothing new – this happens about three times a week – she thinks it’s a RIOT …) She appeared, dripping wet and shivering.

“Mommy, I’m scaaared.”

“Why are you scared?”

“Because I heard a noiiise …”

“What did it sound like?”

“Uh, it sounded … like …”

She bent over.

Stuck her tush out.

And with a gleam in her eye …


A high-pitched, squeaky (or should I say cheeky) little number.


The thing is, it sounded like a spooky, creaky door, which made it THAT much more hi-larious. I suppose the timing could have been purely coincidental, but of course, I prefer to believe I birthed a comedic prodigy. (Who wouldn’t?!?) Either way, the two of us howled with laughter.

That kid cracks me up.

I suppose I should have more clearly explained my definition of “sophisticated humor.”


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The Worts Pies in the World

Someone Googled this today and found me.

Whatever works.


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The Pancake Princess

February 12, National Pancake Day. AS IN TODAY. Hellooo – how could I not have known about this until this afternoon?!? You realize what this means of course.

Buckle up Baby, Mama’s takin’ you to IHOP for a free shortstack!

Being the generous daughter I am, I called Grammy and Poppy and offered to take them to dinner. MP sampled all five syrups, and surprised everyone by eating nearly all three of her complimentary pancakes. She actually ate more than I did, which is a first — I’m chalking it up to a growth spurt. Unbelievably, she even sat in her seat the entire meal.

And topping off a memorable night … a PRINCESS. What are the chances? Watching MP’s face as she studied Miss Montana (yes, the real Miss Montana) serving pancakes in a tiara and apron (with an official pageant photographer in tow, if you can believe it) was priceless. ‘Riveted’ doesn’t begin to describe.

I, myself, was riveted by the pure cheesy goodness of a beauty queen in a pancake house.

You’re asking yourself, “can it get any better?”

After a warm bath, a squeaky clean MP and her full tummy crawled into bed and fell instantly, deeply asleep.

IHOP is magic.


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HBO, My Standing Date

Saturday night. Four words.

Snakes On A Plane.

Yeah Baby. Don’t ever say this single mama doesn’t know how to have a good time.


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