Fluid Pudding : Page 100 of 122 : It's the old small talk!

I call you on the telephone, but you’re never home.

Last night Jeff presented me with a birthday gift.

For the first time ever, we now have Caller ID and Call Waiting.

I’m a terrible (TERRIBLE) phone person, which is odd when you consider that two of my very first jobs involved lots of telephone action. (While in college I was one of those people who called you during dinner to ask if you were interested in having Olan Mills take portraits of your family. I was oddly successful with that job, but the only real memory I took away from it was when my co-worker presented me with a six-pack of Fat Tire and a cassingle of “I Will Always Love You” by Whitney Houston. (She was paying me back for the bread sticks I often bought for her during our breaks. She was broke, and NOT very successful with the Olan Mills gig.) When I returned home that night, five people (3 roommates and 2 friends) were scheming in the living room. We quickly divided up the beer and listened to the cassette one time. ONE TIME.) (Please know that if you live in a house where Rage Against the Machine holds a permanent spot in the CD changer, Whitney Houston is definitely not invited to stay for very long. Also, please know that I rescued Whitney from the trash that night and kept her hidden in my car for those times when I found myself hoping that life treated you kind and that you have all you dreamed of. (I also wished you joy and happiness, but above all this, I wished you love.))

(Sometime I’ll tell you all about my roommates and how we once ate an entire turkey (minus the innards) with our bare hands (on the roof of our house!) to ring in the new year. Wonderfully stinking cretins we were!)

What were we talking about? Phone jobs! The second phone job I had (that’s starting to sound dirty, isn’t it?) involved fighting unemployment claims made by people who were fired from their jobs for misconduct. In other words, I can tell you (off the record, of course) entirely too many stories of Denny’s employees who actually DID pee into the coffee and movie theater employees who were found with their pants down when their pants should have been up (and fastened). Urban Legends Revealed!

So, anyway. Up until now, I either answered the phone or I didn’t, and whoever (whomever? I can never get it down.) was calling either left a message on our machine or they didn’t. It was all so serendipitous and twirly! But now that has changed, because I KNOW it’s you (if I actually get up and look at the phone) and there are four people I do not wish to talk to right now (five, if you count the owner of a local Roly Poly whose employees took me to a level of anger yesterday that led me to type a terribly mean e-mail that I later regretted sending. Oomph.), and those four people currently think that I’m never home, but now they know that I KNOW. (And I know they know I know et cetera!)

And this adds a whole new flavor to the mix: I just now received a call, and the caller ID thing said ADA. Could it be the American Dental Association (I have a dental appointment on Monday!) or perhaps the American Dietetic Association (Just this morning I was thinking about nutrition, and there is no such thing as a coincidence!)? Because curiosity always kills me, I picked up the phone. It was the American Diabetes Association, and they were thanking me for my contributions and wanting to know if I could send letters out to everyone in my neighborhood. When I told them that I was really strapped for time in the coming weeks, they tried to talk me into finding extra time in my schedule. (Believe me, I’ve looked for extra time! Unlike the Whitney Houston cassingle, it’s nowhere to be found!) When I reached the point where I could feel my voice shaking, I finally hung up on them. And now I’m feeling an unpleasant blend of Guilt and ShouldHaveSaid.

The mailman just delivered, and I’m steaming potatoes covered in dill. (And because of my poor sentence structure, you’ll never know if it’s me or the potatoes covered in dill. Use your imagination.) Harper is taking her first karate class, and Meredith has finished two of her homework pages.

Most importantly, I now own three different types of basil plants. It’s the beginning of an excellent summer.
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I’m still going strong with the Tropicana Juicy Rewards Program. (AND I’m giving away another $50 Visa gift card!) Follow this link! ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

Confession: I got a lump when reading it out loud. A good lump.

When I see a flock of birds in the sky
When I hear my cat meow when she’s happy
When I taste cinnamon buns with lots of icing on top
When I am able to make my mom smile
When I am with my stuffed dog Madison
When I go to the doughnut shop and eat doughnuts
Then the sun shines for me.

By Meredith

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Your favorite color is orange?! So is MINE!!!!!!!

I’m happy to announce that Meredith celebrated her birthday with TWO friends at Build-a-Bear yesterday. (The dramatic set-up is here.) Long story shortened: After I gave up on Mom #2, I left a message for Mom #3. Less than 20 minutes later, Mom #2 called and we set up a plan. Shortly after we hung up, Mom #3 called, and we set up the same plan. (Let’s never speak of this again, shall we? So much completely unnecessary drama! (As most mom drama of this nature is, I suppose.))

Most importantly, both girls were absolutely delightful.

Gabby: Mrs. Pudding, I think we have a lot in common. Do you like to shop at Target?

Me: I do!

Gabby: I DO TOO!!!!!!

Josie: When I was in kindergarten we had Show and Tell every Friday. When they moved me up to first grade, I found out that we don’t have Show and Tell any more. And that’s disappointing. BUT, my dad is down at the book fair, and if he can find Where the Red Fern Grows, I won’t be disappointed any more.

Meredith: I was going to build a bunny today, but when I saw the pony, my heart melted right down into my lungs!

So, anyway. All is well. AND this week will find me attending my first PTO meeting, rushing to a dentist appointment at 7:00 in the morning, and visiting with Bossy at Bailey’s Chocolate Bar. It doesn’t get much better than that.
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I just put up a new Tropicana Juicy Rewards Program. (AND I’m giving away another $50 Visa gift card!) Follow this link! ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

Seven.

A few months after Meredith was born, our computer crashed and we lost all of her baby photos. I was absolutely devastated. The End.

The only photos we were able to recover were the tiny files I had put up on Fluid Pudding, Volume One. (That was the version done in Microsoft Publisher. When I put a post up, I had to manually move all of the other posts down the page. Heh. It was ridiculous, Sisyphus.)

Anyway, here is a photo of today’s birthday girl taken less than 24 hours after she was born:

That’s a big baby!

Here’s another taken when she was two days old:

She was almost crawling!

Today Meredith is Seven. And for some reason, Seven is very difficult for me. My theory? It’s the first age with more than one syllable. (Thank God we have three more monosyllabic ages before we move up to that dreaded eleven!) Seven is not difficult for Meredith. She is very wise for her age, she is clever and creative and has good taste in music (despite her current Justin Bieber fascination). She is thoughtful and considerate and when she grows up she wants to be a rock star scientist. (When I was seven, I was sent to the principal’s office for standing on a toilet.)

Happy Birthday, Meredith Claire.

(Jeff gets full credit for the video. I absolutely love how her bike sounds like the record album has reached the end of its side. I married a genius.)
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I’m drinking lots of juice and diving into the Tropicana Juicy Rewards Program. (AND giving away a $50 Visa gift card!) You can follow along by following this link!

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Atticus told me to delete the adjectives and I’d have the facts.

Five years ago today I underwent a surgical procedure during which a low transverse uterine incision was made and a baby was removed.

The first light that baby saw was not that of the sun. It was the harsh fluorescent light of a cold sterile room in which everyone present wore gowns and masks. (Except for me. As you can see, I was (mostly) naked. Welcome to my humble abdomen!)

Because we went with this cruel and seemingly harum-scarum method of introducing Harper Rose to the world, she has chosen to retaliate by refusing to eat most vegetables, and nary a bean shall touch her tongue.

Happy Birthday, Harper Rose. You’re the coolest five year old I know.
(Happy Birthday to you as well, Harper Lee. You are the knees of the bees.) ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

Despite my phone voice, I am Completely Sane and Decent.

As you know, the girls’ birthdays are this week. Because I tend to lack the organizational skills (and patience) necessary to throw a party, I told both Meredith and Harper that they may choose a friend, and we’ll take that friend to Build-a-Bear and out for lunch or dinner! Harper chose a friend from school, I asked the mom, she was cool with it, and there you go—my Wednesday morning is now filled with birthday fun from 9:30 through 12:30.

Meredith is a horse of a different color. Instead of going with one of her regular friends, she decided to choose a friend from a different class. A friend she had never mentioned before. “Mom,” she said, “Kaitlyn is a really good person.”

Me: Do you play with her at recess?

Meredith: Not really, but I *do* see her at Parent Pick Up.

I picked up the Buzz Book and decided to cold call Kaitlyn’s mom to tell her that we, as strangers, would love to come to their house and take their child to the mall. (Please know that I rehearsed my “Obviously, I would love for you to join us, as I know we’ve never met! Whatever makes you the most comfortable! Here is my credit information as well as a notarized form stating that I’ve never been arrested! IBreastfedBothBabiesAndWeDon’tWatchPorn!”) Anyway, their phone has been disconnected. SO, I asked Meredith to get Kaitlyn’s new number, and sadly, Meredith freaked out about not being able to carry a pencil to recess. SO, we made a fancy calling card for Meredith to give to Kaitlyn, and when she handed it over, she said something like, “If your mom calls my mom, naybe you can come to my birthday!” (I love that Meredith is still saying Naybe. Anyway.)

Kaitlyn has had our number for nearly a week and hasn’t called. (Meredith came up with the idea of going to her apartment and when the mom answers, we’ll extend our arms and say, “We come in PEACE.” Although it’s a lovely thought, I encouraged her to choose a different friend instead.)

Meredith: I really like Gabby!

Me: Who is Gabby?

Meredith: She’s in my Thursday class at the middle school!

Here we go again. Meredith does not know Gabby’s last name, nor does she know which elementary school Gabby attends. I called the middle school teacher and explained the situation. AND, because she is a saint, she actually called Gabby’s mom and told her what was going on, and supposedly the mom was totally cool with everything and quickly supplied both her home and cell phone number so we could reach her about the party. Hooray!

I called the home number on Saturday. No answer. I called the cell, and after five or so rings, it went into voice mail. I left a very long-winded message introducing myself and explaining that Meredith has chosen to take Gabby to Build-a-Bear with us, and that I wanted to extend the invitation to Gabby’s mom as well! In fact, I believe I said, “If you would rather meet us at the mall, I completely understand! After the girls build their bears, I was thinking of taking them to a nearby restaurant—and I’d be thrilled if you could join us!” Anyway, I actually surprised myself with just how SANE I sounded, because I tend to go all nutty when I’m leaving messages. (Seriously—ask my boss from ten years ago. She knows.)

It has been 48 hours, and I haven’t received a return call. And I’m taking it personally, because although I thought I sounded totally fine, I probably did not.

Full Disclosure: At Meredith’s insistance, I called back again yesterday. (I did not leave another message.) AND, because I’m starting to feel a bit worried that Meredith will be solo tripping the birthday experience, I bit the bullet and called back AGAIN this morning. (I did not leave another message.) I won’t be calling tomorrow.

It’s such a tricky thing, because for whatever reason, Meredith is choosing friends that I’ve never heard of. AND, when I asked why she isn’t choosing one of the regulars, she gets a bit teary-eyed. SO, I don’t really want to push it.

This gets easier, right? Yes?! Okay then!

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I’m drinking lots of juice and diving into the Tropicana Juicy Rewards Program. (AND giving away a $50 Visa gift card!) You can follow along by following this link!

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My first due date was exactly seven years ago.

First off and most importantly, thanks for all of your kind words on my floundering post from earlier in the week. Deep down, I think we all know that I can’t really quit Fluid Pudding. I’m really great when it comes to quitting full-time jobs that involve ergonomic chairs, town hall meetings, and filling out forms in order to obtain a really good pen. (Hence, my complete lack of success when it comes to being a winner of bread.) I’m not so great at quitting the thing that voted on the name of my second child and helped me decide how to proceed with my current form of birth control. (No IUD for me! Ya ya!)

By the way, seven years ago today I was eighty pounds up and looking exactly like this:

Meredith’s eviction papers were being written up, and I was eating gooey butter cakes faster than Dierbergs could make them. (Cindy was based on me.)

Fun Fact: That’s not a stretch mark you see climbing out of my pants, it’s an appendectomy scar! (The appendix was taken out during my tenth week of pregnancy. Luckily, my surgeon scored high marks on “Take Appendix Out and Leave Baby In.”)

Today I’m concentrating on brownies (once again, thanks for the ideas and recipes!), prayer shawls, and Jamie Oliver. Also, how to get a strapless bra this afternoon without leaving the house, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, and why this song has been in my head for the past two days.

Enjoy your weekend. I hear it’s supposed to rain. But that won’t stop us.

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I’m drinking lots of juice and diving into the Tropicana Juicy Rewards Program. (AND giving away a $50 Visa gift card!) You can follow along by following this link!

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This is where I am.

When bloggers write about blogging, it sort of makes my skin crawl. With that said, it seems like every year at this time I get the e-mail notification that my renewal fee is due, and suddenly I start spinning around in a big goofy skirt and asking myself if I’m still having a good time at Fluid Pudding.

Here I am having a good time with a baby donkey. Anyway, The State of Blogging (I know. I’m wincing, too.) has changed So Much since I kicked off Fluid Pudding nearly nine years ago. Back then, I wrote to no one and I loved it, and I honestly felt a creative spark every time I began a post. When people started dropping by and commenting? It felt like Christmas. (Or, perhaps more like Thanksgiving. Or my birthday!) It was fun. With a big F, even. And I used the word Shit sometimes. And nobody expressed disappointment. And I poked fun at my neighbors. And nobody accused me of being hateful. And nobody was categorized. And e-mails were mostly kind! And trolls were found only in Norwegian fairy tales! Blue skies!

Sometimes I think baby cows are cuter than baby humans! (Don’t tell the baby humans!) So, yesterday I got the renewal notification, and Jeff and I had the following conversation.

Me: You know, I’ve quit the Fluid Pudding thing a few times, but quitting is sort of stupid for me, because it never sticks.

Jeff: Are you thinking about quitting?

Me: I’m not sure what I’m thinking. I’m thinking I had more fun before I installed the filter that keeps friends and family from hearing me say words like Shit. I’m tired of not really wanting to admit that I voted for Obama simply because most of the people I know and love did NOT and NEVER WOULD HOLY CRAP NO WAY vote for Obama.

This bunny can’t quite get over my use of the word Shit, and is shocked to hear that I voted for Obama. In fact, she honestly thinks less of me as a person because of it! How can a bunny be so ridiculous yet so precious at the same time?!

Jeff: I think you should pay the renewal fee and take back Fluid Pudding.

Me: I’m going to be 40! My life is more than halfway over! I once had a dog who died after biting his tongue, and I haven’t learned a thing from him!

Sometimes chickens spend their Saturday mornings in a cage. Sometimes they walk around in Birkenstocks and shawls! HA HA HA HA HA!!! So, anyway. When I first started this website nine years ago (the archives are in Salt Lake City!), I named it Fluid Pudding because I once read an article on modernism in which the author quoted someone as saying that the state of the world has become not unlike fluid pudding—no one is firm and consistent! And when I read that quote, I felt like the author (Dostoevsky, perhaps?) had insight into my SOUL. Hence, Fluid Pudding was born.

Llamas are Llovely. And I’m not saying that taking back Fluid Pudding will involve me wrinkling my nose and being all “You feed your kid Lunchables?! You should go to HELL!!!” because I honestly believe that 94% of us are doing the best we can out there, and I know it’s not my job to call people names or sing songs about where they will spend eternity. It’s still Fluid Pudding, Dostoevsky.

This is a camel. AND, when I put this photo up on Flickr, Mrs. Kennedy mentioned that she would name it Humpy. And that brings me to this: Fussy is one of the very first blogs I read, and I believe I was reading it before the word blog actually annoyed me as much as it currently does, and four years ago she wrote a genius post where she mixed photographs with a bit of her own State of the Website words, and I loved it so much. That was four years ago, and it still inspires me.

American Goat. So, anyway. Sorry for scraping my brain and puking on your shoes.

Speaking of which, I’m participating in a brownie bake-off this weekend, and would appreciate any advice you can offer. As always, I have no idea what I’m doing, but for some reason the word Curry is making my eyebrows bend. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

My milkshake brings all the milk men to the yard.

So, last Thursday I was doing the freelance thing when someone started knocking on my door. I jumped up, opened the door, and was greeted by a guy who looked quite a bit like my best friend from college’s brother. But it wasn’t.

Me: Hi.

Guy: Hello there! My name is Lou, and I want to be your milk man.

Please know that his name isn’t really Lou (it’s Scott). I’m just using Lou to maintain anonymity (you know, for Scott), and I chose Lou because it sounds like a milk man’s name. And that reminds me: Do you remember these guys? Because I do. (They also did a tune titled “Watching Scotty Die” which I believe was playing on the Bobby Goldsboro tune titled “Watching Scotty Grow” and that song never fails to make me tear up. And while we’re crying, how about this one? Holy crap. Where was I?)

So, Lou went on and on about the milk thing and he sang songs about hormones and free-range and “no delivery fee for six months!” And “I’ll waive your cooler deposit!” And “I’ll bring you some milk and coffee samples!” And, disturbingly, “You’re the nicest person I’ve talked to all day!” (Admittedly, I am very nice. Mostly.)

I told him I would check with Jeff (because, you know, he is the Bread Winner and I never skip the chance to mention My Husband) and call him back the next day.

And I checked with Jeff. And I called Lou back the next day.

Lou: Hello?

Me: Hi. My name is Angela Pudding (that’s not really my last name) and you came by here yesterday, and…

Lou (totally interrupting me, like we’re buddies or something): Angela! That’s right! Hey! I’m in traffic so I’ll need to call you back in ten minutes.

And he called me back, and I told him that I wanted to start off with a standing order of two half-gallons of 2% and a dozen eggs. And our connection was sort of clicky and weird, and suddenly Lou yelled, “I’m not speaking to my wife right now, and she keeps clicking in!”

Oh, Lou. Please don’t make this uncomfortable.

Me: Okay then. Anyway, the milk and the eggs? Are we good to go?

On Saturday, he delivered milk and coffee samples.

Today he delivered the two half-gallons of milk, the eggs, and the cooler. And instead of just leaving them on the front porch like he said he would (perhaps he was confused because we don’t really have a porch. It’s more of a sidewalk, really.), he knocked.

Me: Hi, Lou.

Lou: My boss was going to bring these by, but he got called out of town, so I thought I would take over for him!

Me: Excellent.

Lou: Free-range eggs and two half-gallons of 2% and your cooler!

(Awkward silence.)

Me: YouCannotComeIntoMyHouseLou.

Lou: What?

Me: See you next week. If I don’t answer, feel free to just leave everything in the cooler! The cooler is awesome! I can’t wait to see how it works!

So, now we have a milk man. AND, hopefully he’ll provide me with material, because I’m really starting to stretch, and I don’t want to get all “Ask me anything!” because I don’t think anyone would ask me anything. Do you remember my Cadillac of a dishwasher? It’s broken! Do you want to hear about it? Because I’m conducting a plastic spoon experiment over here! Anyway.

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I’m drinking lots of juice and diving into the Tropicana Juicy Rewards Program. (AND giving away a $50 Visa gift card!) You can follow along by following this link! ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

Despite the hiccups, we fluttered.

This morning Harper and I put on our glad rags and headed to the Butterfly House where we took about fifty photographs of butterflies eating rotten bananas, landing on top of each other, doing what butterflies do, etc.

When we got home, my computer decided it would no longer communicate with the camera, and the memory card within the camera decided it would only retain seventeen of the photos we had taken.

Toni at Creve Coeur Camera saved the day by recovering those seventeen photos (and one video!) onto a CD for us. (We then reformatted the memory card, and all is well. I’m boring you so much right now. Do you want to hear about my new eyebrow gel? I bought it with Blackbird in mind, and now my brows look much less anemic. Sleep tight, my friends. I’m eating Ritz crackers.)

Anyway, here is my favorite photo of the day.

I’m wearing a penguin necklace! Harper is wearing one, too! AND, according to Harper, when we both wear our penguin necklaces, we’re BFFs!

The video is worth the cost of file recovery. (Which was five dollars, if you’re keeping track of my expenses.)

Aren’t you glad I went with Paganini instead of Butterfly Kisses?

I need to tell you a weird story about my milk man. (I now have a milk man.) Meet me here next week?
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I’m drinking lots of juice and diving into the Tropicana Juicy Rewards Program. (AND giving away a $50 Visa gift card!) You can follow along right here! ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>