Diary of a SubUrban Housewife

to me.

From London’s Daily Mirror.

A big high-five to whoever controls the weather and saw fit to wait until I got home from work tonight before starting the downpour which me is making me rethink my transportation from Volvo to possibly Ark.

Thanks!

An actual phone conversation I had today:

Co-Worker: Goodmorning
Me: Goodmorning
Co-Worker: You don’t happen to have an extra pair of black high heels in your office I could borrow, do you?
Me: In fact I do, come on over.

Monsieur le Evaporation stopped by the casa this afternoon, on his way over to Carol‘s house. The hub and spawn were off at some fair at my mother in law’s church, leaving me and El Steve home alone.

While we could have opted for an afternoon of hot, steamy, extramarital sex, we took it in a different direction. We chatted. For a nice long time.

Though I’ve known Steve for about six years now, I’m going to have to figure this as the first time our respective spouses have trusted us to be alone together. Silly them. But I digress.

We talked of many things. We laughed. We cried.

But at one point in the conversation I was referring to the global you. You know….the more than one you. The you meaning everyone. And I was once again slapped in the face with the fact that English does not have a word for this concept. Texans do: all y’all. (Cuz you know that old joke, what’s the plural of y’all? All y’all.) But I’m not a y’all kinda girl.

So instead of saying all y’all I said ustedes. And Mr. Amaya, being the fine Mexican that he is, completely grasped my concept.

(For those of you non-Spanish speakers, ustedes is the plural you–basically all y’all.)

English really needs a proper word for this concept. Submissions being accepted.

If you’re coming here cuz someone linked you from an entry of mine back in October of last year, do me a favor and drop me a line with the details. Thanks. Your hostess.

I was out running errands for work today, and one of those errands took me to a supermarket. As I was waiting in line to check out, I perused the purchases of the shopper in front of me. He had two items: a bottle of orange juice and a bottle of dried plum juice.

OK, the orange juice thing is pretty straight forward, so I’m on board with that.

But……..correct me if I’m wrong, but aren’t dried plums prunes? Wouldn’t dried plum juice be prune juice? (And we won’t even get started on thinking about how one juices something that’s dried in the first place.)

Martha Stewart, on going to jail:

“I could do it,” she said at the time. “I’m a really good camper…There are many, many good people who have gone to prison. Look at Nelson Mandela.”

So after prison I suppose there will only be two career choices left for Martha: spokesperson for Coleman lanterns or President of South Africa. Keep your options open I always say.

Oy.

To whoever is holding the laundry fairy hostage I have three words for you:

SET HIM FREE

Things are dire here!