*Eight little pills*

Every morning I take a handful of pills to kick start my body into fully functioning mode.

1. little white triangle to clean my kidneys.
2. little yellow oval to relax my herniated disc.
3. yellow/white cap to clear my plumbing (2 if I've had sex the night before... 3 if it was really wild... just kidding)
4. little pink blunt'n to clear my head.
5. wee baby aspirin to thrill my heart.
6. big chalky bastard to lube the joints.
7. big honkin' brown vitamin because, you know, it does a body good.
8. cap of white to keep from drowning in self-pity.

Then I eat breakfast and drink mass amounts of something hot and black and try to forget the diabetes that has already taken ten years from me before I've stepped foot out the door.

*Better living through pharmaceuticals*

I am sometimes asked how I believe in a benevolent God when my world seems an endless stream of bad events. I say "Algebra is hard. Life is what you make it."

So long as I'm not digging ditches for a living, I think I'll keep saying that ... but then, the world needs ditch diggers, too.


As the evening comes to a close, I finish out my regiment with a tall glass of water

9. half a mustard triangle to clear my blood.
10. pink cap to take the pain of the day away.

I forget to look in the mirror as I apply the potion to my face. Invariably it lands on my lips and then my tongue and I go to bed wondering if my husband kisses me right then, at that very instant, would he find me bitter?

my neighbors are a young couple, in their 30s, with two kids - Henry, still under warranty, and Maddie, new.

they've lived across the street from us for four years now, keeping up with Ralph, the Gardener of Eden next door to them, making all the rest of us look pretty lame in the turf maintenance dept.

they're a good Catholic couple, one dark, one fair. very friendly, very nice, good neighbors.

they've had exactly two fights on their front lawn in the time that we've known them. one of them right after Henry was born, when he was Maddie's age, one of them earlier today.

in that first fight, she held Little Henry in her arms as she screamed at him from their open front door. he yelled profanities from behind the lawnmower in the center of the lawn. Ralph sat quietly on his front stoop. mr. zippy and I supervised the construction of our front stone bedding wall, pretending we couldn't hear them screaming at the tops of their lungs directly across the street from us.

at the end of the day we came inside and promised each other we'd never fight like that. we were thankful for each other, and glad to keep our private frustrations to ourselves.

today, mr. zippy came to me and said "They're fighting on the lawn again" as though it happens every weekend.

"What are they saying?"

"I can't tell, but he's cussing and she just got in the car and left."

"Jesus."

then mr. zippy left. when he returned several minutes later he said, "He put a note on the door and went inside."

"he did?"

"she left in the car and he put a note on the door for her."

I couldn't help but wonder if this time she wasn't holding Little Maddie in her arms as she screamed at him before driving away.

what I really wanted to know was what was written on that note. later I wondered if he left it there for her to find upon her return or if he chickened out (or is it wisened up?) and removed it before she could see it.

I wondered if they'll have their next fight on the lawn when their next child is a swaddled babe.

I wondered if they'll be able to keep from fighting in front of Henry, and then Maddie, as they get older, and whether or not it will make a difference, as their children will be smarter than they ever imagined and they'll be repressing memories years before their parents think they're picking up on things.

"I'm really very glad we don't fight like that," I said.

"Me too," he said and hugged me into a profound embrace.

Well, mr. zippy's party went pretty a-o-k. All the guests arrived alive, the waiter was well tipped and we all rolled out of there sated. Those of you fortunate enough to get the posted snaps of the evening can see for yourselves that fun was had by all. The hit of the evening, by far, was the R. Lee Ermey action figure mr. zippy received from his sweet, demure wife (via the prize mule aka party guest #1 -- thanks prize mule!).

Getting there was a bit of a scuffle, though, as mr. zippy wanted to leave early "in case we get lost on the way." I did everything I could to waste time --- ironed three different grass skirts, weaved traditional dance costumes from corn husks, milked two cows, three goats and an anteater using nothing but my good looks and keegle exercises (which wasn't easy, let me tell you!), wrote a 4,000 stanza epic poem ("Ode To Ironman") then rewrote it in haiku ("I Weep"), hammered out a bronze bust of the Queen of England and STILL we managed to be on our way far too early.

I commenced to bitching as soon as I was belted in. Bitch. Bitch. Bitch. Bitch. Bitch. When we missed our exit, mr. zippy felt vindicated we'd left so early (I was secretly happy and praying we'd miss the next turn around, but no such luck). When we at last arrived at the restaurant, mr. zippy was quite pleased with himself and I was still bitching. The only difference was, now we were on foot rather than in the car and he felt good enough to playfully shove me with an "I told you so" boast. When we approached the host I said, "Zippy for 7pm." "Yes," he said. "Is this still for eight?" that's when mr. zippy's orbs bonked out. I slugged him in the shoulder and said "See? I told you we were too early."

Then the prize mule arrived, and that was good, followed by mr and mrs o, and that was good, then mrs. prize mule arrived and all was right in the world. GREAT food. I'd love to tell you more about it, but that might require a logistical declaration that I'm not prepared to post in the public domain. But, it was so good I swear I could eat that meal every day and not grow tired of it. YUM! I wish that for everyone.

And then R. Lee Ermey came to town in the form of one raunchy, foul-mouthed 12" action figure and laughter seized our sides and smiles tackled our faces until we had to set him aside for fear we would not get our mouths wrapped around our sinfully delicious desserts. The HORROR!

Good friends, good food, good humor. What more does one need?

shhhh.... be vewy vewy qwiet. zippy's planning a surprise suppa for mr. zippy's birthday....

Saturday morning conversation in zippy's world...

Him: "Why didn't you come to bed last night?"

Me: " I was sick and didn't want to wake you."

Him: "When I woke up and you weren't there I was really worried. I thought, 'What if someone broke in and stole zippy?'"

Me: "I'm sorry."

Him: "Then I thought 'Wow. I hope the dog's ok.'"