My kids

So you know, nauseatingly so, how much I love Heather Armstrong? Well, today I'm stealing a line from her, or actually from her daughter Leta: my kids. Apparently Leta has started calling her friends "my kids," and so Heather has started doing it, and you know if Heather does it, well probably I'll have to do it too. Example: Heather puts a cute dress on Leta, and Leta says something like, "I think my kids at school will like this dress." LOVE IT.

What's up, my kids? I'll tell you what's up. Last night BB and I were watching "In Plain Sight," this new USA show that's along the lines of "The Closer" and "Burn Notice" (read: along the lines of ALL THINGS GOOD), when I saw flashing red lights go by my house. In case you don't know, I live on a street that's way back in a neighborhood where random flashing lights don't happen much. Being the nosy drama hound that I am, I bounded barefoot out the front door and saw that two ambulances had stopped at a house right down the street from me. I'm staring, like I do, and Brian's all, Hey, you shouldn't stare. It's rude. I know it's rude. But it's also rude to be a neighbor of someone who needs an ambulance and not know what happened to them. God.

Anyway, my poor elderly neighbor Ralph had a heart attack. A bad one. His wife fixed hamburgers for supper last night and he thought he had indigestion really bad. She wanted to call 911, he didn't, she did anyway, and it's a good thing, because apparently it was a bad one. I haven't gotten an update this morning, but I've been thinking of them, and I hope Ralph is okay. You should cross your fingers that Ralph is okay too, because it's the nice thing to do.

So then after that, we finished watching TV and we went to bed. Somebody said something smart and we laughed for a while, and then I discovered that while I was dozing, BB disappeared. Apparently this oppressive heat makes me snore more (or that's what I'm blaming it on, anyway) so he went away to the guest room to slumber in peace. I woke up at like 1:52 am (I looked at the clock) choking. This has happened to me plenty of times before, so thankfully I didn't panic quite as much as I normally do. Acid reflux is a bitch, by the way.

Anyway, I went back to sleep after my ritual of prescription-I-should've-taken-this-morning-but-didn't-which-is-why-I'm-up-now + Tums + lots of ice water + some gum. BB wakes me up at 5:15 to tell me that the cats don't like the cat food he bought them. Huh? You are SERIOUSLY going to wake me up pre-dawn to imply that I should get my ass out of bed early and go buy them some tuna that they DO like? Oh, hell to the no. Miraculously, I went back to sleep after that and woke up just before 10am when Carolina Ballet called, probably to sell me some season's tickets to Swan Lake.

So now it's 11:20am, I haven't had breakfast, nor have I thought about showering until just now when I'm typing this, and the only thing I'm looking forward to doing today is NOTHING and going to see Sex & The City with my mom late this afternoon. I'm excited to see the movie, but a little nervous about watching it with JUST my mom. I mean, we've both seen the show (the whole thing, a million times), and we're all grown up and adult now, but there's just something unsettling about knowing that Kim Catrall will likely describe some sex act in detail during this movie - and I'll have to watch it sitting next to my mother.

Then after that we're going to a dance for a kid that's getting married tomorrow. Ordinarily I wouldn't go, but it's at the Ava Gardner Museum tonight at 9pm, and I'm interested to see whether or not the rumor is true that they're going to put a tent and a band out in the courtyard. I just think it'll be cool to dance in 100-degree heat amongst gowns Ava wore in The Night of the Iguana and Mogambo. (Not that I've seen the movies...I've just heard of them.)

Happy Friday, my kids. Some of you I'll see tonight. Others of you I don't know. And perhaps SOME of you I'll see someday when you hop on a plane and surprise me for my 30th birthday. Which is September 15th. HINT HINT.

Hasta!