Coupons

As some of you may know, Anna clips coupons. Like clockwork on Sunday afternoon, she would clip scads of coupons from the AJC. And from time to time, she would mail them to me. Fat envelopes stuffed with buy-one-get-one frees and $1 off Tidy Cat and Swiss Miss hot chocolate - all tucked inside some humorous card or a note that said, "Thinking of you." Sometimes I would use the coupons, and sometimes they expired in the mail pile because I am a thousand times less organized than she is. But she knows what kind of shampoo, contact solution and toothpaste I use - and she'd send me the coupons accordingly.

Last weekend, amid all the chaos of getting documents in order for the probate and this and that, she sat quietly on the couch for half an hour and carefully trimmed out the week's coupons. Justin and Eva were awarded all coupons pertaining to baby supplies. And Mom was given those for coffee and asundry items that we use and she doesn't. After awhile, she murmured, "This is like therapy." And when I needed the IcyHot Patches, she said, "I have a coupon for that!"

Tonight we pulled in the driveway around 9 o'clock. I feel like I haven't had a weekend. The kitchen table is covered with piles of opened mail, sorted and read and tossed into a great heap of condolences and bills. There's dirty laundry spilling out of the hampers; I need to change the sheets on my bed, long overdue for a fresh set. Dad walked through the house looking at the mess and mayhem in every corner and said, "Let's just burn the house down and start over."

He sat at the computer, reading the financial news, and Mom opened the weekend's newspapers. I looked at the stack of inserts she set aside from the middle of the Sunday paper. I went and got the scissors. I started clipping, neatly trimming the sides until I had a stack of coupons. "What are you doing?" Dad asked. "She rubbing off on you?"

"Sort of," I said. "I'm going to write her a card, send them to her." Because I can't do anything to make it better. Because I can't fix it. I'm just going to give her coupons for Advil PM and Nestles Treasures chocolate candy.

Government & Groceries

I finally received the information in the mail about becoming a member of the Gallup Poll. Tonight I sat down to fill out the survey information. Most of it was standard personal information - birth date, gender, race, religion. After that, the following questions were listed, in this order:

Do you approve or disapprove of the job President Bush is doing?

Are you the primary purchaser of groceries in your household?

This should be interesting.

Steamed

Dear Romance Writers of America:
I hope you're happy. I've tried to keep silent on this issue, but the book I received in the mail today has forced me out in the open. It's quite likely I will be stripped of my MFA for writing this letter, but it's time. You must be confronted.

Admitting that you read pulp romance novels is akin to admitting you have a crack habit. Or cross dress. Or enjoy playing the bongos naked and high. So please, help a girl out. I ordered a book that I was hoping to read on one of the plane rides I'll be taking over the next few weeks. Taking it out of the envelope, I noted that the cover was a little pink, a little girly, but bearable. And then BAM! The back cover detoured right past the Tasteville exit and went straight down to Smutty Town.

Now, I have read a lot of these books. And this particular one takes place in Regency England. I'm pretty sure there's not going to be a scene where our heroine is pressed against a tree in a flimsy dress with half her bosom showing while she's molested from the shirtless reject from the Iron Man competition. I DO NOT want to see Conan the Barbarian on my book cover.

I know there's going to be some steaminess in this book. But let's keep it inside the covers, okay? I don't want to see these women swooning so hard their clothes are falling off. And really. Do we need to be subjected to so many male nipples?

In conclusion, I'd like to say that it is my belief that many intelligent and sensible women, like myself, for whatever reason, enjoy these kinds of novels. We don't want to admit it our next board meeting, but we don't mind it on the airplane. Unless we're going to have to flash the guy next to us with Boobs & Brawn: A Love Story. So please, PLEASE, cover up on the cover. 'Kay?

Love & Semi-Nudity,
Ashley

Housekeeping!

True to my promise, I did attend to some important housekeeping duties today. The EPA will be able to postpone their visit due to the fact that I accomplished the following this evening:

* Changed the shower curtain
* Scrubbed down the tub, toilet & sink
* Changed the sheets
* Washed the dishes
* Sorted through a pile of mail
* Set up online billpay (I know I'm way behind the rest of the world)
* Folded and hung clothes (no small task)
* Threw away a pair of shoes (gasp!) that admittedly is falling apart
* Put aside in (growing) Goodwill pile shirt and pants that obviously no longer fit me and never ever will again
* Lit candles to create lovely ambience and good smells in my freshly cleaned house

Aren't you impressed??