These are the people in my neighborhood: Summer edition

Though summer is winding down here in West Michigan, there are still plenty of outdoor events to attend around town. For example, last weekend I ran a 5k sponsored by a local television station. Two of the TV personalities ran the race and the lead weatherman for the station sort of walked it - I mean, he had a number and everything but was dressed in Dockers and a button up shirt - not exactly what one would run in. Anyway, the day had two highlights. First, I set a "PR" or a "personal record" for myself (I would post the time, but if you are a runner you would spit out your Diet Coke because the time is nothing to brag about, trust me). Second, when I saw random woman in a long denim skirt (again, what's with the attire at the 5k?) sneaking to take a photo of the weatherman and acting like she was stalking George Clooney or something. It was nuts. I mean, he's the weatherman. And he's old. You could tell she was totally star struck.

I also recently attended a little festival in my neighborhood I lovingly call "Crackfest." The reason? It took place in an area where a lot of arrests have been made (according to the crime alerts I receive from my local police department) for selling / possessing crack. Yes, crack. As in "crack is wack" crack. Not cocaine - crack. Awesome. Crack always attracts quality. And I just love that I can take a five block stroll through my neighborhood to secure some.

Crackfest was what I expected and more.

This woman dressed and acted like she was on crack. So I know where she bought the crack but where did she find that outfit?

And this unfortunate fellow...they were too close to get a good picture of him. Focus your attention to that bulge of flesh above the shoulder of the woman in the blue T-shirt there on the right. This big, fat slob of a man was walking around with his pants and boxers positioned well below his love handles and was shirtless. His "moobs" (man boobs) really just looked like boobs. It was just vile. If a woman walked around like that she would be totally scrutinized. This man was with a rag tag crew that included that lovely smoker lady on the left and several children, including the one in the arms of lady in blue. Made me sad for the children who are surrounded by adults like these.

I know...there I go being all judgy again! What should I expect living five blocks from the crack capitol of West Michigan, right? It goes with the territory. What can I say? Crack is wack!

Redefining "single"

Tonight I attended a social gathering of women aging in range from early 20s to late 40s. Looking around the table, I realized that while I was (for once) not the only unmarried woman there, I was (as usual) the only "single" woman there. At my "advanced" age that just won't do so I have opted to redefine "single."

From here on out, I declare "single" means someone who is not married, not engaged and not cohabitating. Therefore, if you are in a relationship but not cohabitating you are (in my warped sense of reality) "single." This is really just out of necessity....you know, so I am not the only "single" person at such gatherings.

Once I redefined "single" in my (warped) mind, I was one of four "single" women attending this event and suddenly felt much more at ease. That is, until the brag books started circulating. Even one of the other "singles" had a brag book, despite the fact that she doesn't have children of her own.

Once again I was totally outnumbered.

And there was no way for me to redefine that in my head.

Tales from the road

Today I spent about ten hours in the car driving from Grand Rapids, Mich. to Indianapolis and back. What a marathon!

While driving through Kokomo, Ind. this evening my colleague was flipping through the stations and what did we hear? Low and behold - "Kokomo" by The Beach Boys. Kokomo in Kokomo. Aw, how cute! However, this Kokomo is not in the same ranks as Aruba and Jamaica or Bermuda and Bahamas. It is more like Dayton (OH) and Naperville (IL) or Fort Wayne (IN) and Auburn Hills (MI). In other words, no one is fallin' in love to the rhythm of the steel drum band down in Kokomo, Ind.

While driving through Kokomo we discovered not one, not two, not three but seven "Jesus" radio stations! Seven! Does seven equal Heaven in this case? Not sure why there is a need for so many Christian radio stations in one relatively small area but we enjoyed counting them. That's a whole lotta Jesus, that's for sure.... Especially for a city that would expel a little boy from middle school for contracting HIV through a blood transfusion (anyone remember the Ryan White story from the 1980s?). Would WOULD Jesus do? Just saying, Kokomo, just saying. Maybe they are trying to make up for misdeeds of the past. I shouldn't judge, but I do find seven Jesus stations to be a bit much.

Ineterestingly, this was not the only day I had a discussion about The Beach Boys in the car. Today I shared a story of the car ride with my mom and dad this weekend. They came to visit me and we traveled to a Lake Michigan beach town. We had a couple of disturbing conversations during the car ride....

First, in regard to The Beach Boys, we discussed Katy Perry's "California Gurls" and the rumors The Beach Boys are suing her. My mom said, "Oh please. Those two songs are nothing alike. The Beach Boys don't say anything about 'being so hot we'll melt our popsicle.'"

I don't need to hear my mom talking about anyone's popsicle melting, ok? Shudder.

Within five minutes of that incident my dad, drifting in and out of sleep, picked up on part of another conversation my mom and I were having and shouted out from the back seat, "I've got myself a Detroit 'ho!"

Me:  "Dad, are you talking about mom?"

Dad: "Yes."

Me: "Do you know what you just called her? Do you know what that word means?"

Silence.

Me: "Dad, do you know "ho" means "whore?"

Dad: "No."

Me: "What do you think that means?"

Dad: "I thought it meant shovel."

Me: "So mom is a shovel?!?"

Dad: Silence


Without a doubt, the next time I hear The Beach Boys I will think melting (about how no one's tropical drink is melting in their hands in Kokomo, Ind. and how much I did not enjoy my mom talking about melting popsicles) and shovels (otherwise known as "hos" or, in my case, Mom).

Busted!

It's a hot and humid day here in GR so after an early morning run I opted to spend the day laying low in the house. After a packed weekend I am enjoying some peace and quiet.

About an hour ago I let Gracie out and decided to water my hanging baskets.

As I turned the corner from the back yard to the front I spotted not one, but two GRPD cars parked in front of my house.

Immediately I thought, "Great. Which house was robbed now?"

I saw the officers walking down the street...to the 2 Live Crew house.

SCORE!

They went there, knocked on the door, apparently no one answered (the music wasn't playing but I would venture the inhabitants have hearing loss based on exposure to ridiculously loud music and therefore didn't hear the officers - or were hiding their stash of pot, meth or other drugs) so the officers walked back to their cars, one stopped to compliment me on my hanging baskets (brownie points for me with GRPD?), moved their cars to the end of the block and went back to 2 Live Crew house.

I went inside. I decided if a shootout happened over loud music I did not want to be caught in the crosshairs.

No shootout...and not sure what transpired but I am so grateful these morons are on GRPD's radar.

I have a feeling I won't be hearing much 2 Live Crew or Christopher Cross any time soon!

I can't help falling in love with you!

I met my new love interest in Atlanta a mere two weeks ago while shopping at Lenox Square.

I saw my new love again at The Galleria in Houston a few days after our initial encounter.

Since that time, I cannot get the object of my affection off my mind.

I haven't felt this way in awhile.

Meet my new love...

....Bow Regard Maryanne

Oh, Kate Spade...you did it again!

I know I am sick. But let's look at Bow Regard Maryanne from another view:

Isn't she lovely?

The metallic leather! The gold dot interior! That bow! That handle! Oh my!

When we first met in Atlanta it was difficult for me to leave her in the store. She looked perfect on my arm. Like we were meant to be. I think I actually heard her calling my name as I sadly left the store.

Alas, I do not have $445 to splurge on her. I mean, American Express could pay for it but then I would just end up paying off Bow Regard Maryanne for the next ten years.

Wait, I just realized that is almost the exact same amount of cash I plunked down at the vet to nurse Gracie back to health. Cruel joke, universe, cruel joke.

However, I must say, I haven't felt this way about a Kate Spade bag in awhile.

Damn you, Kate, for making such beautiful handbags!!

An example of nothing short of "jackassery"

Jackassery. I am 99.99 percent sure I learned that word from my favorite writer, Jen Lancaster. I want to make sure I give credit where credit is due for coining that phrase, because it truly describes my actions this past weekend.

I was a reader in a very big, Catholic wedding. I skipped the rehearsal because it would have required an additional five days away from home after just returning from six days away from home for work travel. Since I couldn't be there to practice, I followed the bride's instructions to arrive at the church a half an hour before the ceremony to find the other reader and get the scoop from her. I practiced my reading and arrived at the church one hour early just to be safe, skipping lunch (bad idea) and breakfast for that matter. I immediately tracked down my fellow reader, who told me to just go after her. Sounded good to me. Then I started to think about it.

"Isn't there a song between the two readings?" I asked. As a lifelong Catholic (I even went to Catholic school!) I should have known the answer. OK, in my gut I knew the answer (and it was YES) but I skipped lunch to make it to the church so all I could hear from my gut were hunger noises.

You can probably guess where this is going....the short version is no, I wasn't supposed to go right after reader number one and yes, yes, YES, there IS a song between the two readings. Ignoring my gut, and at the prompting of someone in my row who told me to "Go!" I marched up to the altar and started reading, despite the sheer look of horror on the bride's face (she is a good enough Catholic to know it goes reading, song, reading). As I opened my mouth I was promptly removed from the altar by the priest.

Worst. Nightmare. Come. True.

Public speaking doesn't phase me. I've spoken, read, sang, etc. in front of hundreds of people - no biggie. What does phase me? The prospect (or actual act) of screwing up someone's otherwise perfect wedding ceremony.

Walking off the altar, rejected, a vision of Bridget Jones popped into my head. You know, the scene where she has to introduce the guy who introduces the author and she totally screws it up? Yep, just like that. Thank goodness I didn't call the priest "Mr. Titspervert" or anything.

After the song, I was beckoned to the altar. I put on my best sorority girl smile, did my reading and sat back down, replaying the entire thing over and over in my head throughout the rest of the ceremony. Thankfully for the sake of bride and groom, the rest of the ceremony went off without a hitch.

Still feeling like I wanted to crawl into a hole and die, I was doing my best not to "be seen" at the reception. I sat my ass down at my assigned table and tried to hide in plain sight until I could no longer resist the lure of the open bar. Don't worry, while in line for a drink some guy I don't know stopped me to make a comment about my gaffe. I simply smiled at him.

Once I had my drink I practically ran back to my seat and momentarily thought about hiding under the table.

A little while later, I ventured to the bar with my pal Peasley thinking there would be safety in numbers. We were separated en route to the bar and, sure enough, yet another stranger approached me about it the minute I was alone. Again, all I did was smile at him.

Really? I felt horrible about the whole thing! Who are these people to come up to me and bring it up? I am not a total idiot - I did realize I screwed up. I think I got that memo when the priest removed me from the altar!

After the second incident, I vowed not to leave my seat at the reception and stayed true to that promise except for two quick trips to "tee tee" when the path to the ladies room was clear. Don't get me wrong, I contemplated not getting up to "tee tee." However,  I figured I had humiliated myself and messed things up for the bride and groom enough...I did not want to do any additional damage.

Luckily, I had good company at my table and had a wonderful time when I was engaged enough in conversation to not replay my screw up over (and over and over) in my head. The reception was a blast - the tequila was flowing and the attendees danced and celebrated all night long. I apologized to the parents of the bride, as well as the gracious bride and groom but still felt like a total jackass. In fact, I still feel like a total jackass. That's where "jackassery" comes in....perfect way to describe my failure to follow my gut!