Today is Opera Day for San Diego Momma.
I do not know why. But it came to me in a dream and I don’t like to mess with my higher consciousness.
(***tuning up****) la la la la la la la***** ****do re mi fa so la ti do***** ***tru tru tru*****
Nah. Forget it.
Now watch. A man in a bull hat hat is going to fall from the sky. My dream may be portentous and now that I’m ignoring it, all kinds of operatic hell could break loose.
Is anyone following this? I’m sorry. I know better than to write after four plates of beans. Still, I lumber on.
As you may or may not know, yesterday marked the first annual BitchHer 2008, which in case you wonder, is an ironic moniker. But I never use irony correctly, so take that for what it’s worth. (Damn Mel and those beans! I’m so fixated on the resultant gas that nothing in my world is making sense.)
How about this? I’ll stop talking and you can just see the BitchHer pictures? Sound like a deal we can all live with? That’d be good, because then I can stop using words like “portentous” and “moniker.” I have days when my vocabulary bloats, and it’s better for us all if I zip it.
Hey! Bloated Vocabulary Day! Better than Opera Day, am I right? I hope I dream about it.
Right. Here are the pictures:
OK, I think I can manage through this part without saying something nonsensical and bean-fueled. Standing from the left are: my future mom mentor, Jenn at Juggling Life, Me (who, please note, is standing in front of a BLUE pool, and is wearing a BLUE dress, which may or not explain the 85-mile-wide ass), my future style mentor, Trish at This is Trish’s Blog, my future humor mentor, Cheri, our hostess and the brilliance behind Blog This Mom, my future dance mentor, Sam from Little Dragon Fruit, and my future perfect ponytail mentor, Kate from Katydidnot.
And who we missed: The Hawaii-bound Jamie from Choosing My Own. My future always-looking-cute mentor.
In the poolapalooza are: the kids.
Mine is the one with the soon-to-be frosting all over her face. Also the one who shouts inappropriately in the middle of quiet conversations. My other one is sitting quietly (out of the shot) on the edge of the pool. She does quiet stuff like that. The ying and the yang. I’m telling you: a bit of both came out of my vagina.
Now I’ve got it! Not Opera Day nor Bloated Vocab Day! No! It’s Inappropriate Crazy Day! Hmmm… Yes. YES. I like it. It’s got a ring to it. And more syllables than the other days, and THAT in my book, make it a clear winner. I am nothing if not syllable-friendly.
(The above word completely blew my syllabic claim clear out of the water.)
Posting more pictures might clear the awkward silence. So:
Those pesky beans again! Wow, persistent much? They just keep popping up. Or out?
p.s. I’m betting more intelligible, non-operatic-alluding, bean-absent recaps will be forthcoming from the other girls.
p.p.s. We also got swag! Look!
This is how I know I’ve happened upon some kindred souls. The swag bag contained journals, and beautiful cards, and books, and book marks, and much more, including but not limited to, personal lubricant.
p.p.p.s. And while I frolicked in the sun with the BitchHers, I thought often of MommyPie and her merry band of BlogHerNots. Because while Bossy and her road trip brought us San Diego bloggers together, MommyPie’s done the same for the entire Blogoverse.
p.p.p.p.s. I also thought you should know that last night at about 11PM, on Opera Day Eve, I ate an entire bowl of pasta with cheesy sauce, in honor of Italy, opera’s birthplace.
You should see what I do to celebrate Inappropriate Crazy Day!