nina turns 40

fresh meat

In my sloth recovery from illness over this past weekend, I discovered two cool new blogs.  They couldn't be more different in tone and subject, but they are both delightful, and, to prove that I am in no way biased towards the female in my blog recommendations, they are both written by men.  For your reading enjoyment I present: Daddy Zine and Twisted Monk.

Hmmm, parenting and kink, wonder how those two managed to catch my eye.

announcement

Ladies and gentlemen, it is just after 2:30pm on this rainy Sunday. I am still in my pajamas, and I have already had a nap.  That is all.  Thank you.

is it over yet?

I have been blessed over the past couple of years in that I have hardly ever gotten sick.  The universe, in its infinite wisdom, however, has decided that this December is the time to slam me with this blechiness that just won't go away.  I've missed two days of work, and have had even less energy than usual, and you should hear my lovely hacking cough.  I have managed to procure a tree for us, and to get started on the gifties, but there is so much still to do, and I just don't know if I can pull it together.  I'm trying not to think about how bummed I'll be without the kidlet around on the 24th and 25th, 'cause at this point in time, what is it all for, if not for him?  Luckily, he is just happy that he gets to have Christmas times two.

c'mon c'mon touch me, baby

Who says that nina's not getting any?  Just the other day I rode the elevator with about ten guys.  All of us crammed intimately together into that small space.  Yowza!  And a few minutes ago I was felt up by a barista.  Well, not exactly felt up.  But definitely touched.  He is an adorable Puerto Rican boy who speaks Spanish with me when I buy my coffee, and when I was down there just now checking out the sandwiches in their wee little deli case, he came up behind me and let his fingers do the walking up my spine.  Oooooh, baby.  I'm telling ya, there's nothing quite like being so umm, deprived (not to be confused with depraved) that you want to go smoke a cigarette after having your back touched, through your clothing, in public.  So yes indeedy, folks, I am feeling completely and utterly satisfied.  There is no lack of anything in my life right now whatsoever.  I will not begin to randomly kiss boys on the street, nor act inappropriately with married men or hotties who work in my son's daycare, not me, no.  No, I am not hanging mistletoe in my office, in my car, and trying to rig some sort of hat-like contraption which keeps some dangling constantly right over me.  I am dignified, I am in control, I am not a cat on a hot tin roof. 

I'm completely and totally organized at all times

If you were a responsible single mom, and had an important piece of paper, where the heck would you put it?  Let's say this piece of paper proved that you'd taken a highly ridiculous and inconvenient class that you had to take in order to finish up some important legal business. Let's say that you were very happy to finally nab this piece of paper, let's say when they first gave it to you, you were frustrated and running even later for work than you'd planned when you took half the day off to attend said class, and so you folded it up and put it in your inside coat pocket.  Good enough.  Let's say, later on, being the responsible single mom that you are, you said to yourself, I should take that piece of paper out of my pocket and put it somewhere for safe keeping.  So, where did you put it?  Now that the lawyer wants a copy of it, why can't you find it?  It's not with any of your other papers that pertain to that particular legal issue.  It's not with any of the kidlet's millions of school papers.  It's not in your backpack.  It's not anywhere.  Crap-o-rama.  So, if you happen to see a green piece of paper, that carbonless kind that makes copies anyway, that says it hereby declares that nina t. forty has completed silly silly class, and is therefore a good girl and able to claim her legal freedom, will you drop me a line? 

oh tannenbaum

Maybe I'm not such a Scrooge afterall, because today we got our tree, and even though it was pouring down rain--not drizzling, not a light rain, mind you, but pouring down rain, and dark, and cold, and it cost more than the groceries we just bought, and it had to be tied precariously to the roof of the car, and we had to pull up in front of the house, and untie it in the rain and it got my beige pants all dirty when I carried it in, and it dripped all over the hardwood floors, it smells magnificent, and now that it's in the house I can't stop smiling.

la cama

There is much excitement in the nt40 household!  Right now, as we speak (type, whatever), I am being delivered of (wait, that sounds like I'm giving birth to them) not one, but two, brand new beds.  That's right, ladies and gentlemen, I will not  be sleeping on a futon tonight, no sir, I will be sleeping on a real mattress with a real box spring underneath, and it's not even sitting on the floor!  It's big and beautiful and soft yet supportive, and I love love love it. Yay!  I will try to avoid making cheesy queries, like who wants to help me break it in, heh heh, because that will make me look desperate, and I'm not anywhere near desperate, no not me.  Not yet anyway.  Give me a coupla days.

The kidlet also has a new bed, and rather than be excited that he has graduated--finally--from toddler bed to big boy bed, he will just see it as a platform for excessive bouncing.  Well, let the fun begin!

the status quo remains unthreatened

I'm so disgusted.  Jen and Kelly.  The most boring, bland, conventional white boy, and the barbie doll.  The Apprentice can hardly be cited as an example of innovation or diversity. And it was painful to watch Sandy and Jen yelling at each other in the board room yet again.  Why didn't the Donald tell them to shut UP already?  I hate the Donald.  I hate his tacky taste in luxury goods, I hate his sneer and his hair, I hate his insecure need to latch onto much younger beautiful women, but mostly I hate it that he thinks that since a good TV show was built around his ability to utter one phrase it makes him some sort of a super star.  Despite all this hate and disgust that I am spewing forth, you know I'll be glued to the set yet again next Thursday to see who wins.  My money's on Barbie.  Never underestimate the power of boobs.

just another way for the heart to break

Got an email from my lawyer this morning.  We are setting up an appointment to finalize the d-i-v-o-r-c-e.  Makes me inexplicably sad.  Even though it's been almost five years of separation, even though I have never looked back, even though I can't wait to have all the legal knots untangled...this is the kidlet's daddy, a man I once loved, who claims to still love me; a man who captured my heart and sent it flying, who embodied so many things that I wanted for myself, a highly creative and intuitive man--an artist. 

life is a cabaret

Well, since I’ve been a big wimp lately and haven’t entered Blogging for Books the last couple of months, I decided I’d better get my shit act together and come up with something or I’ll never get some famous author to read my sweet little blog ever.  This month’s theme is one I’m sure we can all relate to:  My Life as a Sitcom.  Oh man, do I ever have the elements down:

Single motherhood—drama, struggles, a plucky heroine.  That’s right, I’m plucky, I perform acts of pluck daily.  You could even call them pluck ups!  Here’s a plucky thing I did just the other day, and the day before that, and will probably do tonight as well:  I light the pilot light on my heater.  Yes, the pilot light on my heater is as tempermental as an overdue pregnant woman and it goes out quite often, causing our gal nina to get down onto her stomach and peer into the dark workings of her furnace with nary a thought of how one wrong move can blow her and her adorable offspring to kingdom come.  She bravely removes the plate that says “do not remove”, she turns the dials to the right setting, she holds down the one red button, she clicks repeatedly on the other red button, and voila!, it lights, she has made fire, she won’t freeze!