And.....they're OFF!

As a mater of fact, yes, all I do is vacation.

At least that is what it feels like, well, that and host.

And sweep and laundry.

I told you this was the year of travel, right? I am smack in the midst of it. Two three trips down and three to go. Plus endless house guest. This is the year that I use all restraints not to stress out my husband with my long list of high brow wants. I will do with what I have and sneak in a few goodies along the way. I will get a few staples to get me through the season and I will vow to take extra good care of my body so I don't need to replace clothes for a size up. (not that I have ever had to do that!)

Late last night, in a rut over my wardrobe, I dug out old magazines at the suggestion of a dear friend. And after some research I was able to place the 50 ways to spruce up your clothes. If there is nothing I lack, it is imagination and confidence as my sweet Blogher roomie spoke of today. That and a shit ton of accessories and cocktail rings, which, swear.to.God. make the most difference in a pair of inexpensive shorts and a casual tank. After my short study up, I ran through my clothes and low and behold, years, AND I DO MEAN YEARS of investing and collecting in clothing, shoes and accessories I had produced 10 completely revamped summer/vacation outfits.

'Why do you care, Traci?'

Well, because this week I am spending it in Colonial Williamsburg. With my mother in law, and sister in law. And I like to look pulled together. Even when I can't let a new pair of Gladiator Wedges* speak for themselves. I am with my family, my 4 nieces who are being groomed, as we speak, to be tiny little fashionistas. No thanks to their mom, who is just blooming into her own, but I want to believe because I showed Amy to this side of cartoon day wear.

Ha. She is driving across the country to refute that statement.

As I take off to meet the fam for a week of learning, beaches and amusement parks(ugh.) I will be shuffling through my old Domino, InStyle and Lucky for crafty new ways to rework my old shit.

Because as much as I'd like say I am packing tons of new, yummy smelling Italian leather baubles, I have a weekend in Chicago and a month in Greece taking up some serious fundage and my old Banana khakis and Old Navy grecian dress will suffice.

In the great words spoken by my SIL, 'no need to buy new clothes for vacation, nobody there knows what you are wearing isn't new.'


*







Such yummy Italian decadence.

A Test. A pout.

Nipples and uneccesary 'I love you's'

I was chatting with my cousin, Princess High Maintenance, before her flight to the UK for a summers long vacation:

"I hope I packed enough Nipple Covers. I would hate to run out in the midst of my vacay to have to search for some more."

"What? Are you nursing? Do you mean nipple shields?"

"Nursing? Umm, no. No kids, 'member? Nipple Covers are those plasticy silicone things I use so nobody can see my high beams."

Quick question here, but woman have breast, no? (Aware how dumb that question is, not meant for an answer, obvia. completely rehetorical.)

Why so worried about the nipple showing? The nipple is a part of the breast, that everyone knows is there, who cares if anyone can notice the random time is stiffens up? It's not like with that little plasticy silicone thing there anyone forgot there is also a nip. I won't start with analogies, because really what do I care that you don't want a tent made out of your blouse. My main question though, is there a similar product for men? Or a similar product for men, but to hide the other tent, I mean should they be in public and not be able to control it.

Which brings me to my next topic......the unneccesary 'I Love You'.

Y'know when you tell (type) a story, and someone comments 'OMG! I love you!"

Does that give you the heebeegeebee's? Do you think to yourself 'Love me? You don't know me.'

This only applies at funny stories since if you were telling a sad one, I suppose you wouldn't be offended to hear that many people love you.

I notice this most with people who type acronyms, LOL*, ROTFL, BTW, FTR, ect.....is it because writing 'Oh My God! You are so funny, I love your sense of humor' sounds too dated? Or is it part and parcel with the don't take yourself so seriously movement?




*Of all acronyms, this one chaps my ass the most. Really? I needed to know you laughed out loud, or whatever? Of course you laughed, I said it and I am funny. It's like stating the obvious which really annoys the shit out of me.

The top 40 is stealing my kids childhood.

If you or someone you know have some wonderful fucking idea how to stave off explaining 'riding disco sticks' to my kids I'd greatly appreciate it.

Otherwise I'd much rather explain why Earl Had To Die.

If you are lost and confused, go here to read my latest on Pop Culture and the demise of my childrens' innocence.

Sometimes, It's Just To Much.

This whole maintaining a blog thing? Sometimes it gets to be too much.

When I get overwhelmed with laundry, I can grab two tall red bulls and soldier through.

When I get in a rut with my workout routine, I can take a new class or get some CEU's and I always wind up being motivated.

If I feel like I am in over my head with my kids or their behavior, I call up some girlfriends and bounce ideas off of them over some wine. This has never failed me.

But the computer, can really, really defeat me. It's not just the blog, either. It's the whole fucking package. My email inbox with it's 197 unread emails. Most from Facebook for stupid fucking updates about so and so also commented on so and so's update! make me want to throw things.

Yeah, I know there is a notification thing to turn off, but honestly I am so overwhelmed; I don't even want to tinker with it.

My blog needs some revamping, I have a paid advertiser sitting on the side over there --> waiting for me to figure out the code for their button. So, you know, when you click the image it takes you to the website? Me and Blogher Ad network broke up and I need some new ones. But I can't even bring myself to go about replying to the inquires I have, much less verify that those are ads I want to host. Poor NJ Mom's are probably thisclose to firing me for my lack of postings. Which I can't possibly let go, because they made me be able to tell people I write.

(Are you offended that I call this 'writing'?)

I have emails I have flat out ignored, just ask Mr.T. He is so over me and my email ish.

I just can't seem to fit it in right now. I don't know if it is summer vacay. Is it that I feel like super mom because unless I am swamped under a sink of dishes or a serious bathroom bleaching I haven't told my kids to 'wait, not now.' in weeks. It feels amazing, and most times I am able to completely turn it off and give 100% focus on them and whatever game we are playing. However, it is creeping back late at night. When I find myself staring at the ceiling at 3 in the morning. Thinking, 'Self--you are already awake. And you will be until 5:45. Just like last time. Go get something done. You will be tired anyway. Might as well be tired and got some emails answered and floors sweeped.'

But my lazy ass and my giant fear of walking around my house late at night keep me tucked in and watching Nurse Jackie, Weeds, or True Blood on demand. Even though I am all caught up, even though I save the episodes just for these late night rendezvous of anxiety over what I haven't gotten done.

Every single day-from here to the end of July- is booked with guests or traveling. Every.single.one. We have a two week hiatus in August then we are off to Greece for the rest of the summer. Mater of fact, we won't be back until 6 days after school starts. I am great at winding down and turning off while on vacation. My favorite moment is when your ass cheeks hit the airplane seat. I always take a deep breath, exhale to all the stuff that can't be handled now, order a double vodka and let it all go.

However, all I can focus on now is how slow I am moving and who I can ask to accompany me to Costco to do heavy lifting. Damn them for not offering Pea Pod!

To compound all of this, Michael Jackson dies and a week later I haven't heard the autopsy results.

Was it a drug overdose?

Was he injecting tranquilizers?

Why do I care?





I feel better already. Thanks for that.

P.S. I have since turned off all email updates.

A Letter To My Family:

Let me first start by telling you that I am tired. No, wait, exhausted. I know you all are thinking 'Lady? How the hell can you be tired when you just came back from a 6 day trip?'

That? Really is besides the point of this note though. I am exhausted. And you all ROCK.THE.FREAKING.HOUSE. I don't know if your dad made some reference as to how you could help more, or complain less. But daaammmmnnnn.

I haven't so much as heard one whine when I asked you to put the groceries away. Or the dishes. Or the towels. When I woke up and thought to myself: 'Self, you'd better get a lick on it, regardless of how slow you are moving.....' and in you walked, Lil V, summer camp bag packed. Dressed. Shoes on. Teeth Brushed. Bed Made. For the real, amazing.

Missy B, those were real tears of happiness the other night, as I dragged myself upstairs, again, thinking 'Self, I am so sleepy. I just wish there wasn't 3 loads of clothes to fold taking up precious space in my 1200 hundred thread count Egyptian cotton of bliss.' I caught you sitting in the middle of my bed at 10:30 PM with all the clothes folded, sorted and ready to be put away. I didn't even think twice about refolding those towels. I still haven't.


Mr.T, you are *so* the man. SO capable and willing and awesome. Not one phone call of which one is the pantry. You are so, so....hot. And perfect for me. For us.

I did such a great job training you all. Thanks for making my job easy(ier).

Trust me, I am just as disgusted as you are.

I know this is SO passe, but I just had to inform you all that J0N and K8 are separating. And it took me 4 times to spell separating correctly.

Oh, and my kids are out of school for break and I am actually tickled beyond belief to have them home and all to myself. No, as a mater of fact I haven't lost my gotdamned mind. It might be that I can get excited since I am taking not one, but two solo trips within the next 4 weeks.

I know, it is actually a very rough life.

So back to the nonsense drama....

I seem to remember one rainy depressing day, when I was a new New Jersey resident and hadn't met a friend yet watching some episodes of J&K+8 and hearing The Mom say that should it ever start to effect the family they would just quit.

me tapping her on the shoulder...... When your hubs is out at a club with someone other than his mom and/or sister at 3 am 'Showing them his car' ....it's effecting you and your family. It's time to quit.

AND, it's no fucking wonder that the divorce population is in the lead for popularity right after Ed Hardy sneakers and minivans with Stow and Go seating!, according to The Happy Couple, they have been going through some stuff 'for a long time now'. And by long time, they mean 6 months. Can we all agree that in a union (a union of you and your sister, union of you and your favorite lipstick color and union of you and your house, etc), 6 months is nothing. I mean, if you assume that 'Til Death do us part' means Until I or You Die, then 6 months of shitty times is a fucking win. I fully expect to have a craptacular 6 months in my marriage. Maybe not consecutively, rather accumulatively (it is so a word.)

Aside from that, there is real trash to watch. Like Real Housewives of New Jersey reunion. Part one was last night, and I am not sure what I am more devastated by; Danielle's profession that she hasn't had more plastic surgery than Joan Rivers or the Andy Cohen is gay. The upside to this show to the other? Nobody has piles of laundry laying around and you don't have to suffer through watching a family feed their cattle call of children another fucking meal. I honestly think America has watched The Gosselins feed their kids more than they have actually watched their own kids eat.