Tag Archives: the beatles

It’s 2013, but if I were making a mix tape today …

I’m writing this post at 1:30 in the morning in response to my friend Jen’s Twisted Mix Tape Link-Up. She asks us to make a hypothetical mix tape (I’m going to assume everyone reading knows what an audiocassette is) for a friend. It’s my first time linking up and, since yesterday was his birthday, I think I’m going to make the tape for Dave. We’ve known each other now for more than two decades. Music (and laughing at the same stuff) is pretty much what brought us together. So it was hard to cull it down. I decided to pick a song per decade starting with the 50s and then cheated a little at the end.

Because it reminds me of the X-Files and every single time we hosted a party, especially at Mardi Gras.

Because it’s the Beatles and we’ve sung it together at the tops of our collective lungs so many times. Also, because it’s the Beatles.

Because it reminds me of the acoustic Squeeze concert we watched under a lunar eclipse in a parking lot with only about 50 other people. Who else can say that?

Because it’s one of those songs we always talk about that makes us happy and sad at the same time.

Because it reminds me of watching Sabrina, the Teenage Witch the night I went into labor with Dean.

Here’s where I cheated. I was supposed to stop at five songs. But who wants to be friends with someone who always follows the rules?

Because it elicits absolute euphoria. And I actually got to meet Tim DeLaughter. (I’m sorry you didn’t.) And because I can remember Vivien belting out this song in the back of the car. At age 3.

Because I remember listening to it right after I dropped off our babies (5 and 3) at foreign schools in a new place after we lost everything. And sobbing so hard that I had to pull the car over. Then returning to our borrowed home and doing it all over again with you.

* * * * * * * * * *

Happy Birthday, Dave.

* * * * * * * * * *


“Life is short, Break the Rules. Forgive quickly. Kiss slowly. Love truly. Laugh uncontrollably. And never regret ANYTHING that makes you smile.” – Mark Twain


P.S. Mel and I also host a link-up called #KetchupWithUs. Because it involves two fool women parading around in public wearing nothing but ketchup costumes. We don’t take ourselves too seriously. And neither should you. For the current link-up, we just need one funny selfie. No words at all. Give us your best #BitchyRestingFace. (Guys are SO welcome.)


I am the boob girl

I am the boob girl.

I almost went with boob lady, but I like the ability to sing my version to the tune of ‘I am the Walrus.’ (For my pop culture-challenged friends, that’s an old Beatles song.)

Last night, I had a meeting at my kids’ school for the women’s half of the parents association. We’re a pretty tight-knit community. Everyone knows you … or at least everyone knows someone who knows you. And the fact that I was co-president of this organization last year with my dear friend, Ashley, pretty much prevents me from flying under the radar there at all anyway.

(Note: you’ll be meeting Ashley better next week as I’ve added her as an Appointment Buddy.  And she’s up for the Wednesday appointment.)

Anyway, this was the first big meeting of the school year. And, more importantly, the first one I wasn’t running (I know, Ashley … CO-running!)  in a while … which left me available to visit with other moms before and after the meeting a bit.  The topic of conversation initiated with me over and over again? Boobs, of course.

Specifically MY boobs.

I was a little surprised it (they) kept coming up as this was the circle in which I had chosen to lay low the most … assuming some of these women would think I was nuts. I’m friends with so many of the parents there … and the teachers … and the principal, for Pete’s sake! I wasn’t sure I wanted to unleash everything so close to home.

Worlds colliding, you know?

The funny thing is, that although I hadn’t directly contacted most of these ladies about the blog, many of them had already seen it. And read it.  And liked it.

I really do need to get over myself, don’t I?

Anyway, I spent the night jumping from circle to circle, talking about my boobs with the kind of enthusiasm that allows you to know the subject of my conversation from across the noisy room. (Hand gestures and repeat grabbings of your own boobs will always give you away, FYI.)

I even got the opportunity to see and feel another mom’s implants in the bathroom before the night was over.  Seriously, it was her idea and she pulled me into the ladies room.  I guess it seems only fair considering how many friends I’ve been flashing lately.  And, by the way, Kelly … they were spectacular! (Yes, of course, I have her permission to use her name.  Never mind the fact that I got it over drinks later that night!)

After the meeting ended … and I talked to no less than a dozen people about my boobs … we all went out for drinks and the discussions only deepened.  Again, I found myself surprised by the women (and men, apparently) who had been tuning in and were regularly keeping abreast (how many times can I use that one really?) with ODNT.   There were two women there I had never met before who have already taken the big plunge.  And these ladies were more than happy to have the opportunity to discuss ‘all things boob’ with everyone and learn even more with me during my research process.

The bottom line is I think I’ve created a bit of a new identity for myself … as ODNT or perhaps just Old Dog, which I can live with.  But, you know, it’s kind of nice having my own identity after all these years as my kids’ mom, the school’s president, my mother’s daughter or any of the other familial connections linked to me. (Wink.)  And, hey, my boobs actually scored me lunch today at one of my favorite local burrito joints.  (Thanks, Alyson, Robby and Izzo’s for a great meal!)

And these are still my ‘befores!’  Think … of the possibilities!