Do you do anything?

If you watch "The Real Housewives of the O.C.", this will be familiar to you. And after reading this, you may likely think poorly of me, or in some cases, poorlier.

BUT ...

Here's the situation: You know someone who isn't exactly a person who you'd consider a friend. You have friends in common, are cordial to each other when necessary, but friends you are not. So not friends that you prefer when she is not around. You just don't click. There's tension there.

This non-friend's significant other is rumored to have cancer. There are also rumors circulating that that person is making up having cancer.

You know the name of the person's cancer doctor.

Do you do anything?

Backing up - Vicki is the non-friend and her boyfriend (who may or may not have cancer) is Brooks. You are Meghan.

A good friend of mine texted me after watching last week's RHoOC. Told me how she was disgusted with Meghan's behavior, what an a-hole, who does that, etc.? I watched it the next moring while on the treadmill and saw that Meghan actually called the cancer doctor's office to see if they treat cancer patients. As I watched, I didn't think what she did was awful. The more I watched, the more I realized that I would have done the exact same thing! Who wouldn't? Was I missing something?

Later that day I asked Robin, who had also seen it, "I don't get it. What did Meghan do that was so wrong?"

"You're kidding me, right?"

"No - what's the big deal? She made a phone call to a doctor's office."

"It's none of her business!"

I won't further bore you with the details of our elevated voices and colorful names thrown back and forth, but we disagreed.

The next day I asked a friend at work who is like minded to me. "No. That's crossing the line." (What do you know?)

Asked two more friends at work - who basically told me to get a life - who cares - and mind your own business. (Well you two suck.)

Texted Ingrid. Asked her if she'd call the doctor - "No, but I wouldn't throw a fund raiser for that guy either." (Gee, thanks for tossing me a bone.)

Called my mother, "No, I don't think so. Not really any of your business, is it?" (Well, no, but that's not the point, MOM.)

I thought about putting it on Facebook, but Robin told me that with my present poll score being 7-0, I would look like a psycho. "People don't need to know how you really are. Just leave it alone." Riiiight.

I finally texted a friend in Miami with whom I hadn't spoken in a year, other than to send her a wedding picture, and let's face it, that was purely fishing for a compliment. She did agree with me.

But it took asking eight people to find one person to agree with me.

On the show, Meghan dug a lot further. She called an ex girlfriend and really did go out of her way to get to the bottom of it and she did look like an ass. I wouldn't have gone to those depths, but a little tiny phonecall? I do NOT see a big deal.

Does anyone else agree with me? Somebody? Hello?

((( I asked Robin to proof read this for me. She said, "It's fine. You're gonna lose every friend you ever had, but post it. )))

I'm turning 50 soon. And these blogs aren't gonna write themselves.

I have two life changing pieces of paper right now that I didn't have this morning. Nor did I ever really think I'd have them.

One is a marriage license.

The other is my AARP application.

If you're not a personal friend of mine or a Facebook friend, you probably don't know that Robin and I are getting married on my 50th birthday on April 14th.

Some warn us not to rush into anything. We've only put up with each other, I mean been together for a dozen or so years. But we're going for it on a beach on the Outer Banks of North Carolina. A very small, very simple ceremony. At first nobody was going to be invited. Then a lot of people. Then no people. Then just dogs. We have finally settled in on a few people who can make it. It's really going to be perfect!

I'm hoping to hone my writing skills - again - and what better place than right here? I'm settling in quite nicely to the second half of my life and I want as few regrets as possible as the years keep passing. I don't want not ever having written that book to be one of them.

Who you calling crazy, Crazy?

Even though I didn't want to because of female stuff (won't bore you with the gory - literally - details), we went to a few garage sales in Iris and Joe's development yesterday. Before I even got out of the car, I knew it was a mistake. Joe came running up to the car yelling at Robin for something that he told her about Iris that he shouldn't have, Robin and Iris subsequently got into a little spat, Robin brought it up and Iris was now pissed at Joe for telling Robin and now Joe was pissed at Robin for telling Iris. Got that? So it was 7:30 a.m., everyone's mad at everyone and I reluctantly got out of the car wondering if today's the day that I will bleed to death.

My purchase of the day was a PED EGG. Not used, thank you. As I gave the 147 year old my $4.00 (they go for $10 in the store...bargain - yeah...steal - not exactly), she informed me how well they work but when she quit walking, she didn't need them anyway more. There's an idea! Preserve those expensive pedis by not walking. Then the fun part was explaining to Joe what it was. "Kimmy, vhat chu buy?" "It's a PED EGG, Joe." "A PED EGG. Oh. Vhat is this PED EGG?" "It's for your feet." "Oh. For your feet. You put eggs on your feet? Vhy you put eggs on your feet?" I had to get this over with. "No. It's got sharp little metal teeth that you scrape your heels with and all the dead skin flies off." That did the trick. He waved his hand in disgust at me and walked away to look at the jigsaw puzzles.

We managed to get out of there within a half an hour and went WalMart for some pool chemicals. I was going to wait in the car but remembered that I needed to get a couple Father's Day cards. I got a phonecall from a friend and was still on the phone with her as we checked out and got back in the car. Started driving home and the car swerved into GO Grocery. Handed the phone to Robin as I went inside. Robin hates this store because she's a snob, but I have come to LOVE it!!! Did I pull a fast one? Perhaps, but I came out of there with two bags full of goodies for $15.00. I'm talking International Delight coffee creamers for $1.59 and Velvetta blocks for $1.79, just to name a few.

Came home and we both relaxed in the Honey Boo Boo Pool. Robin informed me that I talk incessantly and that I am crazy. Not in a "girl, you so cray cray" way, but she said I am a scary type of crazy because it goes down deep to the bone and most people aren't aware of it, but it's spookily subtle and it's very there.

I disregarded her comments. Afterall, she's always telling me I talk too much. Just Friday night, as we (she) was dozing off, I was talking and she told me that I talk too much. Fine. It was 8:47. (OK, it was 8:07.) 8:07 and I decided that I would not speak to her again for 24 hours. Drove her nuts! Within THREE minutes she was apologizing and within FOUR minutes, she was BEGGING me to speak. Within four and a half minutes, everything was back to normal and I was telling her what a cute name Schatzi Suess (my work love, the owner's dog) is.

But the crazy comment must have stuck with me because I dreamt about it last night. I dreamt I went to a really famous psychiatrist who threw his hands up in dispair and referred me to his mentor. The second shrink , an older Sherlock Holmes looking gent, talked to me for hours and took all kinds of notes. Then, as I sat there, he researched all his books like a mad man. No google in this dream, I guess. Finally he was calm and composed and said very quietly that I have "Rolling Eye Syndrome". But given my love for the booze, he'd be unable to prescribe anything for me. He went on to say that maybe if Robin wanted, he'd be able to give her a lil sumpin sumpin for her nerves. Well, that hardly seems fair. WTH??!! If I have the syndrome, I should get the drugs.

I cannot think of a better time to start blogging again; Iris and Joe arrived in NC today.

For those of you who don't know, they are Robin's parents. They spend half their time in FL and half their time in NC. And it's now NC time.

Right now I am making that noise that one does when backseat driving and the driver gets too close to the car ahead of them. Or when seeing someone with a new really bad hair cut. Or when Iris just called and said they can't find their house key and Robin had to stop what she was doing to go give them hers.

It's not a good happy sound - the sound of grimacing and sucking in air.

I'm not grimacing because she had to leave. I'm grimacing because she will soon arrive over there. And by there, I mean Iris and Joe's - "Home of the Dead Plant".

It's true. They had one plant and it's now dead. Iris will not be pleased. Every single Saturday for the past six months, I have encouraged Robin to, "Let's go water your mother's plant." "Nah. I'll do it next week." You know the ending.

Today Robin replaced said plant with a completely different type and said her mother probably won't notice and if she does, she will just have to get over it. "It's a plant," she said.

Little did she know that she would be there when Iris arrived in NC. Surely she thought she'd have some time. Time is a good cushion. Heals wounds, blah blah blah. As she left I heard her mumbling things like, "This is not good." And, "Why didn't I just go over there and water that damn plant?" And, "I HEAR YOU LAUGHING."

How many days until the week before Thanksgiving?

A little dream of mine

It's not a life long dream, like having a cottage on three (must be fenced in -- but nicely done) acres on the coast of Maine with 12 rescued dogs who live together in harmony with Robin and me and a penthouse in Manhattan for long weekends when we need a break and/or when my publisher wants to see me with news so good that it must be shared in person. (Check my yearbook - living in Manhattan really has been a lifelong dream of mine. It was easier to dream that before turning into a crazy dog lady, but hey, where there's a will, there's a way.)

This dream is rather young. About an hour and a half young, born this afternoon when we took our first batch of homemade bagels out of the oven. The dream grew roots when shortly thereafter we made a jalapeno popper dip. I hadn't intended for the bagels and dip to go with each other. They were both recipes that were introduced to me this week that I simply wanted to try. But when Robin walked around one corner gnawing on a bagel and I rounded the other corner testing the jalapeno dip, we collided and this creation simutaneously combusted. So did my dream. OK, well I stole that visual from the Reese's Peanut Butter Cup commercial, but this combo is equally as good. (Oh that reminds me - their Easter eggs should be out soon! Yay!)

So here's what. I am going to find a pink vintage Shasta (ham can looking old trailer for those who don't know), hopefully redo it to complete adorableness under the guidance of our friend, Kat, whose fault it is that I want one of these in the first place, and travel from Asheville to the NC coast to the coast of FL, selling fresh homemade bagels and schmears in a pink outdoor cafe setting. We'll be like hot dog vendors or lunch truck people! We'll stay as long as we want in an area, then move on to the next town. The town folk will HATE to see us go and word of mouth will spread faster than, oh wait, no more Iris jokes.

Do I have some details to work out? Sure. Should I put some more thought into it before we quit our day jobs? I guess. But a girl can dream and I think this is a swell idea. Right up there with opening a worldwide chain of tanning salons in airports. (Think about it. You want a tan before you go on vacation to get a base. And on the way home, you can get that extra boost of sun that you're not getting naturally because you're now flying back to Detroit. It's a good plan. Seriously.)

Here are the recipes. Hope I wasn't not supposed to share. If so, oopsy.

BAGELS: Go to allrecipes.com and type in Boiled Bagels. Per my friend's suggestion, we made six instead of whatever they said and boiled them for two minutes on each side.

JALAPENO POPPER DIP: I don't usually measure when cooking. Just guesstimated the following. Used reduced fat cream cheese and mayo and it was still delicious.

2 pax softened cream cheese
1 C mayo
1/2 C shredded Monterrey Jack cheese
1/4 C canned chopped green chili peppers
1/4 C diced jalapeno peppers
1 C Parmesan cheese
1/2 C Panko bread crumbs

Mix and bake in a shallow dish for 30 minutes at 40*

One step forward, two steps back ... used to be my way of life ... not any more.

I'm just going to ignore the fact that (again) I haven't posted in months and pretend that I haven't horribly ignored my blog.

Last year was my personal best. I accomplished a lot. Lost a chunk of weight, walked like a mental patient (as in a lot , not as in around in circles while drooling) and got a jay oh bee. But those things added together and multiplied by a bazillion don't begin to compare with giving up drinking. Enough about that. To me it's the best and biggest thing I ever did. To someone else it could be like not ordering fries with that.

Robin and I went for a little walk today. Not a long one. Not a hike. Not a short but intense walk. Just a normal walk around a small lake a few times at the Carl Sanburg Estate. The point is that we got out and got moving. Then we went to a highly recommended bakery and got something that a friend had recommended to me earlier this week...a big warm doughy pretzel wrapped in BACON and barely drizzled in a light maple syrup. Been thinking about it all week and prepared myself not to get my hopes up. Was so happily satisfied that I almost smoked a cigarette afterward.

So the little walk didn't offset the bacon salty doughy little touch of maple deliciousness. Not my goal today. Today, I did take one step forward and two steps back. But if I strive to, on most days, take two steps forward and one step back, then next year at this time I will be as happy with myself for personal accomplishments this year as I am now for last year's. (Huh?).

On one hand, 2013 is when I made up my mind to quit drinking. It was the ending of a too long chapter in my life, so the year is notable. (BTW, that is what anything boils down to...making up your mind.) April 8, 2013, to be exact. But I made up my mind not to drink on April 9th, June 18th, August 2nd, December 24th, today, and every other day between then and now, so every day is a victory since I choose it to be. THAT is a feeling better than any buzz I've ever had.

I passed!!!! (with flying colors, I might add)

We've all been there. That point in a relationship where one person will say, "If you love me, you'll _____."

That fill in the blank can be anything from "take out the trash" to "spend all of Saturday at my mother's house" to "crave Chinese for dinner" (again). ETC. Sometimes the blanks are serious, like "never speak of this again" to silly like "stick a cigarette in your ear and let me light it".

Or in my case, it could be, "GET THE EFFING WART FROM THE DOG OFF MY FOOT NNNNOOOOWWWW." Robin just went to take a little power nap and all of a sudden I heard screeching. Not blood curdling though. More like, well, she'd seen what appeared to be a wart from the dog between the sheets.

Bodi, our girl dog, has had a little wart like thing dangling from her front left elbow since she was born. Vets said it wasn't anything to worry about. I always figured that one day I would have it removed because she felt self conscious about it. That day hasn't come yet and I noticed that she'd been gnawing at it lately. We've had friends suggest we tie a string around it to cut off the blood supply and it would fall off. One friend even offered to do it (her brother had done it to himself, afterall) and we declined. Seemed so - barbaric.

So I was happy to just let nature take it's course to see if Bodi would chew it off herself.

Well, the thing did get smaller and smaller and I thought she just kinda drained it. Looked healthy enough for a deflated wart and I assumed all's well that ends well.

Until today. When Robin screeched. I ran in there and asked what the issue was. She'd thrown down the sheet and demanded, "WHAT'S THAT?" Clearly, I had no idea and said, "Doo doo?" Worth a shot. Robin went on to tell me that it's MY dog's effing wart and I needed to remove it at once. Not having my glasses on and assuming she knew what she was talking about, I put my hands over my mouth, threw up a little, backed up and said over and over, "I can't." She then reminded me of all the gross things she has retrieved, disposed of, wiped up, handled - blah blah blah - and I finally said, "FINE!!!!! Lemme go get my glasses." Came back, not without giving poor Bodi a filthy, "I've now gotta go in there and pick up YOUR wart, Prima Donna. Couldn't you have for once just acted like a dog and just eaten the damned thing??" look and walked toward the bed armed with paper towels, Chlorox Cleanup and Walmart bags. Got closer and closer and then I realized - it was merely a dried up jalapeno pepper. Picked it up and pretended to lick it and walked away.

Who was throwing up a little now?

You may be wondering why we had a jalapeno pepper in our bed. Not the point. My point is, I love Robin enough to pick up a would be dog wart. That's a beautiful line - may have to incorporate it in to our wedding vows - "I, Kim, love you, Robin, enough " ... you know the rest.