Girls' Night

So, tonight was "officially" Girls' Night for me and TripleAy. TripleAy is my daughter. She's a minor, so shall remain protected from the 3 people who are currently reading my blog and probably changed one of her dirty diapers at some point. But I'm a responsible parent, dammit. It's one of the things upon which I pride myself. That along with the wonderful ability to NOT end a sentence with a preposition.

So anyway, it was "officially" Girls' Night because I called it. And anyone who's ever been a child or been around a child understands the importance of "calling it". For those of you unchildish folks, "calling it" means you just say that shit and mean it. So I called it tonight.

TripleAy is amazing. And I'm not just saying that because I spent 26 hours of pure, unmedicated HELL trying to get her out of my body nearly 8 years ago. Naahhhhh.....she's a pretty cool kid.

Why, you ask?

Well, for starters, she's got knowledge of self. Honestly. This girl told me the other day why she needs new friends. Her thing is "I'm smart, I get my work done, I don't like to talk a lot in school unless my assignments are complete, I study, I dance, I sing, I make my own clothes and I need friends who do the same."

I also exploit her innate sense of style. And since I'm doing all this revealing here, I might as well tell the world (well, the three total people in my reading audience) that I ask her for advice on my outfits every morning. Nine and a half times out of ten, she's going to dress me better than I dress myself.

Oh, and she's planning a birthday party for me....and Sasha Obama this year. Our birthdays just happen to fall on the same day. Of course, that was TripleAy who did the research on that. She's penciled into her dad's calendar to go over party themes, the menu and a venue. Now don't take this as an off-handed invitation. Your sense of style and ability to create sparkling conversation will have to be evaluated by TripleAy before you can even think about being considered for the guest list. Sorry.

So, back to Girls' Night....

TripleAy starts running track tomorrow so she needed real running shoes. We head over to the sporting goods store and she starts looking at shoes. Number one on her list of priorities - PINK. TripleAy bleeds pink, okay? After the pink consideration came comfort. So TripleAy bugged the salesman out by strapping on her shoes and literally running laps through the aisle to make sure that the shoes fit properly. All the while, I'm trying to figure out what good deed I've done in a past life to deserve such a dynamically vibrant human being to parent. So she finally settles on a pair that are pink, comfortable, AND within budget (I told y'all she rocks).

Afterwards, we head over to the Asian-American food spot (I refuse to call it Chinese) and grab a bite, and laugh like old friends over moo-shu and tofu. TripleAy does an uncanny imitation of Andrew Zimmern (Travel Channel, stand up) and had me nearly spitting into my Singapore Sling at her rendition of eating a live shrimp on a boat in the remote South Pacific.

In the midst of laughter and trading stories, TripleAy looks at me and says "Mommy, Girls' Night has never been THIS fun!!" And in that moment, I heard the Chorus of Naysayers start doing scales, getting warmed up to serenade me with one of their old mental hits. You know...something along the lines of "you're not good enough, you're not good enough...." But this time, it was different, because this time, I looked into TripleAy's eyes and her happiness and excitement in THAT moment was enough to shut the Chorus of Naysayers the FUCK up!!

I'm a bomb mom!

That's all.

Oh...and Girls' Night rocks!!

Ina Garten Musta Didn't Get The Memo

I like Ina. I like that she's obviously committed to being the middle-aged sex kitten of the Food Network. She's got that husky voice and that "I'm not wearing any underwear" chuckle going on. It's pretty clear to me that she and Jeffrey (her short, balding, bespectacled, potbellied, middle aged husband) are having LOTS of sex at her Hamptons estate. I get that and I like it.

Ina, however, is apparently living in a parallel universe where we all have access to a custom-made pantry with Malagasy vanilla beans steeping in Russian vodka and an acre of organic poppy flowers so we can harvest our own saffron! I honestly think she has bumped her head with the door of her Sub-Zero refrigerator one too many times.

Tune in and you'll see Ina massaging a $75 leg of lamb with truffle oil and fresh rosemary from her garden. Another day she's admonishing her viewers to use "good (read: EXPENSIVE AS HELL) kosher salt/Ceylon cinnamon/undutched German cocoa powder/European butter with a 100% butterfat content.....

Lady, it's 2009. Did you miss the memo?? A man just killed his entire family AND himself because he and his wife lost their jobs! The unemployment rate is sky-friggin'-high!! Did you happen to see that the government of Iceland collapsed the other day??

Oh...you probably didn't. Too busy churning out lavender-scented ice cream and caramel drizzled tarte-tatin.

Carry on.

Risk....

So, anyone who knows me, knows that I'm not a betting person. Yeah, I'll place big wagers on things I know, like the fact that the average American walks the distance from New York to Miami every year, or a ball made of glass will bounce higher than a ball made of rubber. But betting on the unknown was never something I've been able to really, really embrace.

But, it's 2009, and what with all the change going on, I figured I'd better get on the bandwagon. And what better way to display my inner comedian/snarkster/drama queen than to put it in writing? Because most people believe what they read anyway, right?

So here I am: multitasking as usual - writing a blog while teaching my 7-year old how to tease a black barbie head's synthetic hair and baking a banging batch of chocolate chip cookies (I should probably start taking photos of my food). I'm also planning dinner at this moment - something with spicy turkey italian sausage, spinach, eggs and asiago cheese that would pair well with a New Zealand Sauvingnon Blanc. Oh, did I mention that I'm also a self-proclaimed foodie? Yeah, I just did.

And I'm taking a risk. Putting myself out there, if you will. Some of my close friends and family members will tell you that under the poised exterior is a riot waiting to happen.

Well the riot has been unleashed. Strap on your helmets and breastplates because, yo - some shit is about to go DOWN!