Happy national Sylvia Plath Day, Tators! This will be a new and fabulous addition to my blogs! I'll let you know what national day it is; sorry today's is so gloomy and doomy, but I do not make the days, I just provide them to expand your horizons (NOTE: That's the educator in me!)!
Anywho...
Let's get down on it! It is not a surprise to you that I do not have a "traditional" career. I work on my casa (NOTE: The backyard is coming along fantastic-a-licious!), volunteer for a fabu organization; AARF, run, climb, swim, and work out. In addition, I have to care for my babies, and that includes Carl-E. Despite the fact that Carl-E has not one, but dos assistants I still have to handle some of his scheduling, such as doctor's appointments, and coiffing sessions. Personally, I think these are better done by his right and left work-hands, because they know his daily-ins-and-outs better than I do.
So...
Evey week I have a routine. For example, Monday; I vacuum and mop the house (NOTE: I discovered the new Mr. Clean magic eraser mop; it kicks dirt's ass!), do numerous load of laundry, and make any appointments for Carl-E. I adore my structured days, it is the Virgo in me!
Well...
Last night as I am about to drift off to la-la land in my pink, flannel panda Nick and Nora jim-jams, Carl-E says, "What's on your agenda tomorrow?" Now, I hate the word "agenda." "Why does this little 6 letter bug her so?" you might be thinking. I'll tell you why! First of all, I am not Carl-E's employee, and the word "agenda" has that cold,cubical,every wall white,only Bic pens,business feel to it; B)The word "agdena" should only be resverd for meetings of the up-most importance and reverance; and 4) I am not his employee!
So...
I did not answer. Let me back up a smidge, Carl-E and I have discussed pertaining to my unbridled hatred for the word "agenda." But, he just does not get why it irritates me more than a wedgy when I am running (NOTE: I know too much info, but I really want you to know how beau coup it gets under my skin!). But, his memory to this discussion is like Teflon; everything I say just slides right off.
Let's move on...
So, he repeats himself again, and again I ignore him hoping that he will pick up on my non-verbal message or receive the numerious adult content words I am fliging at him with my mind. However, he is privy to either! Finally, I sit up and not say, not yell, but say through my teeth in a whisper, "I do not have an aganda!" (Note: When you receive the dreaded teeth-talking you know your ass is grass!) Because he cannot remember our last "agenda" discussion, he says, "What's your problem?!" That was the catalyst to laungh me into a 5 minute tirate about the coldness of the word "agrend"
Next...
Carl-E said, "What would you like for me to use?" With my back to him, as a hugged my pink-fuzzy body pillow while petting my pretty-pretty princess, Godiva, I told him to come up with something. After a very uncomfortable silence that was not bothering me because I was once again drifting off on the calm sea to sweet-dreams island, I was jolted by Carl-E yelling, "Carrieann Plate! That's what I'll call it, but I have one request, can I call it 'CP' for short?"
I agreed to "CP." It sounds so much more warm than "agenda!" My man came through; yippy-skippy!
Get crazy with the cheese whiz; tators!
I gotts to jet, hit me on the hip latta!
jim-jams
British slang for pajamas, nightwear.
I was going to go to the grocery store yesterday morning when I realized I was still in my jim-jam
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