“You couldn’t find two more diametrically opposed characters than Capricorn and Leo… Leo’s fire and your earthiness are not elements that blend well.”
It gets better…
“Leos born between 14 August and 23 August (my husband) are not compatible with you. They’re highly motivated, but not amenable to your advice or your way of doing things. “
“Be cautious with Leos born between 23 July and 4 August (my daughter). They are double Sun characters who can burn up your cool demeanour and create difficulties for you.”
Let’s try another website:
“[Capricorn & Leo] are both representatives of independent signs of the zodiac that inclined to dominate in everyday life. These two are almost complete opposites and in case of a love affair their distinctions can appear insignificant, but in case of marriage they will never be happy together.”
Geez, and I thought I was happy.
We’re heading off to the Jersey shore. What to bring… thong bikini or skirted one-piece? The bikini will go better with my orange Crocs but I already got the lime green toe polish to match the horizontal stripes around the suit. So I’ll take the one-piece… maybe not. I can’t jog in my one piece. There’s no place to put my Walkman. It tucks so nicely down the front of my bikini bottom.
Kinda gives new meaning
to the term secret service
when you find him hiding
in the back corner of the
the flashing light?
As kids, we didn’t appreciate Dad’s keen fashion-forward styling. He wore boxers when all the other dads wore tightie whities. And later, when the other dads switched to boxers, our dad made sure his boxers stuck out of his clothes. OK, so maybe they stuck out below his shorts instead of above his pants but that was the only detail he got wrong.
He is quite a trendsetter. Dad had a buzz cut when the other men were still growing out their hair. He drove a VW bug long before small cars were considered “cool”. Thirty years before the word minimalist was coined, Dad was an outspoken card-carrying member of the club. (We had the only black and white TV on the block.)
After all these years, I am finally able to accept Dad’s uncanny ability to predict future trends. Just watch the celebrities, over-sized aviator glasses will be the next big thing.
My daughter, Jamie, was seven at the time of Oreo’s first birthday. She thought he should have a party and made invitations. Oreo invited our other cat and the teenagers who worked for me. We all ate tuna, sang Happy Birthday and had ice cream cake with a candle. Jamie wrapped up some of Oreo’s cat toys and “helped” him open them. Of course, the cat was completely unimpressed with everything but the tuna. He did lick some ice cream cake off a spoon but threw up.
The tradition continued for a few years. When we moved the business outside the house, the teenagers were no longer invited but we did eat tuna and ice cream cake. A few more years went by and we stopped having cake but Jamie and I still shared a can of tuna with the cats.
Today we celebrated Oreo’s eighth birthday. My daughter is now 14. She opened up a can of tuna but only the cats ate it. I sang Happy Birthday by myself.
Being a cat, Oreo is quite satisfied with the changes in our tradition. As a mother, I am a little sad.
I like dogs but they’re too needy. Having a dog would be like having another husband… he’d always be following me around, begging for a meal… he’d whine when he didn’t get what he wanted.
Men and dogs are very similar. They both like to pee on tires and will spend an entire day chasing a ball (men call it golf). Give them any opportunity and they have their face in your crotch. And what’s with all the farting? Have you ever heard a cat fart? No. it’s definitely a dog and man thing.
What about cars you ask? Men think a car ride should be an exhilarating experience (just like a dog). Woman just need to get the kids to soccer practice on time.
It doesn’t mean we don’t love our husbands and our dogs. It just means that I can only deal with one of them at a time.
I have a cat thing. My husband hates it. His mother and three of his sisters have that weird animal hoarding thing. He knows that my cat thing could easily become that weird animal hoarding thing so he has imposed a two-cat maximum in our house.
He’s right (did I just say that?) With no boundaries, I would definitely be collecting cats. The ASPCA would eventually need to be called in… it would be on the 5:00 news… the neighbors would be interviewed… I would finally be on Oprah. (I would be divorced.)
Imagine how excited I was when we moved into our current warehouse to find out there was a feral colony right next door. The wonderful
(crazy cat) ladies that take of them let me unofficially join their cat club.
That’s right, I could pretend they were mine and as long as I didn’t bring any more home, my husband couldn’t complain.
Ok, so I posted a good photo of myself last time. Wouldn’t you?
But it was the only thing the women at work talked about. “Hey, you look really good in that picture.” “Wow, you look great” “I can’t believe how good you look!”
What they really mean is… “That doesn’t look like her at all.” “Can you believe she posted THAT photo.” “I hardly recognized her.”
OK, I get it. It’s not my normal look. So today I took some new photos. Now when you look at this photo, keep in mind that I have no make-up on, haven’t showered in two days and, oh yeah, I had surgery yesterday. Just in case the flaws are not obvious enough, I have labeled them. (I hope you all think this one is more appropriate for my blog.)
Since we are being honest… here is what you can’t see: there is a stain on my shirt, my teeth need work and I should be on a diet. AND this was the very best photo I took today. I will not post the really bad ones. Would you?
The thing about teenagers (at least teenage girls… I’m not so sure about the boys) is that they always have an opinion and they always share it with you. “Mom, you really shouldn’t go to sleep with your hair wet. The back dries weird.” I could have gone my whole life without ever worrying about the back of my head and she had to go and ruin it for me. Now, I have to worry about the front AND the back of my head. I still go to sleep with my hair wet but now I have to check to see how weird it dried.
My daughter is like the Simon Cowell of crafts. She doesn’t ever make any crafts but she takes one look at what I’m working on and knows exactly what’s wrong with it. “Mom, that would look sooo much better if you made it in pink and orange instead of blue and green.” The problem is that she’s usually right. Harsh, but right. Just like Simon.
Welcome to my blog. Thank you for reading. Please feel free to leave your comments and suggestions. You too can be a loser… just like me. Ask you daughter.