Holla Hotlanta

CarolynOnline has stopped by the 'hood to fill in for me today. She is probably mucking around my kitchen as I type and rearranging the furniture. Which is cool by me, naturally, as we are virtual neighbors... and she is also one of the funniest people I know.

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Someone left the oven door open in Atlanta and it's just too hot for human beings. It's weird this same thing happened last year in July. I think the meteorological term for it is Summertime. I know that technically I shouldn't complain about the heat what with it being a yearly event and all but frankly Atlanta and I haven't been getting along that well lately. The old hag. And I like to pick on her sometimes. And you know the old, "it's not the heat, it's the humidity?" Well, it's not the humidity, it's the drought.

Here's the thing Atlanta, I know the drought isn't your fault but it's annoying. Although my hatred for the drought is not what you think. I don't mind the fact that my lawn is a crunchy, combustible mess because let's face it, I could have done that without the help of the drought. But the other aspects of the drought I find really offensive. Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about, Atlanta. The Palmetto Bugs. It's really such a charmingly euphemistic name for a bug. I just want to get an old mason jar, poke holes in the lid, and collect a big mess of Palmetto Bugs to put on my nightstand. Oh, but wait: Palmetto Bug = Big ass nasty disgusting flying roach. That was cheeky of you Atlanta to give them such a cute name. They're so big you can actually hear them walking across the floor. I mean is that really a necessary part of the ecosystem?

Me: Kill everything, Mr. Bug guy. Bug guy: Them's just comin' in fer water. Cuz uh'th'drought. Least you don't have them little ones. Thems's th'worst. Me: Right, because big roaches that can fly are ever so much better than those little roaches. Look I don't care if you have to poison the groundwater, if it drops my kids IQ 20 points, do whatever you have to and kill everything. We'll be back in a few hours.
So off we go to the indoor rock climbing place to kill time with two hours of air conditioned fun masquerading as exercise for them while I sat on my tush reading my emails so yeah, totally worth the fifty bucks. Well, it would have been worth maybe thirty, but it cost fifty. Atlanta, why do you have to be so pricey? Yeah, I blame you.

So my girls, my diametrically opposed children, are out there monkey scaling the walls. Working together. A rare site. And Tempel is being so Tempel. One of my favorite things about her is one of the things I'm supposed to be fixing. She does not understand social cues, or boundaries, or socially appropriate behavior. When two beautiful young things started climbing on the wall next to the kids my girls had two completely different reactions. Parker, as is appropriate for a 13 year old (even though she's 7) turned red, performed a signature hair flip, and readjusted her unflattering harness. Then she spent ten minutes very deliberately not looking at them. No eye contact. No sudden movements. Tempel, however, jumped right in front of them, Hi! Cool chalk bag. Can I see it? Digging into the chalk bag tied to the guys belt. Wiggling hands getting little too close to the tool for my comfort level. What do you use it for? I'm eight. How old are you? Twenty-two? Wow, you don't look that old. And the guys were being so nice to my little dorkess that it made them even cuter. I wanted to leave the designated mommy viewing area and go lick their carabineers.


I love it that she has no idea that eight year old girls don't normally chit chat with 20 year old men. Her mom was there, she was safe, she felt comfortable, she liked the chalk bag. Why not tell them? Why not ask to have some chalk? Parker would NEVER. I never told Parker that she should be coy with boys or fix her hair every time something male walks by, she was just born with some weird innate girl knowledge. Genetically she's a Heather. I know I'm supposed to be working this aspect of Tempel's little personality out of her. Teaching her how to interact with people. What their looks mean. How people speak without words. But I just love her open friendly naivety. I love that to her what's socially acceptable just seems like bullshit in her little head. I have to find out how to keep that alive while simultaneously telling her not to chat up the fourth grade girls in the lunchline. Hello, social suicide.

Where was I? Oh right, so the rock climbing went faster than I expected so we decided to hit Old Navy to let more time lapse before entering back into the fog filled dead zone of the house. Atlanta, why do you have to keep putting these stupid metal plates over the potholes? It doesn't work. I don't think any other city looks at a gaping pothole and thinks, "Instead of filling it up we can just cover it with a metal plate with just enough thickness to blow a tire if you hit it at the wrong angle." The other cities are laughing at you, Atlanta.

Oh and look, the road is closed because of a water main break. Thousands of gallons gushing out into the street. Good job Atlanta, worst drought ever in the history of mankind and you can't stop flushing the toilet.

But just when you think you've hit rock bottom. When you think there's nowhere to go with this relationship, you're all cried out, something happens. I turned a corner in the road and then I saw it. I just looked up and there it was.

Atlanta?! I take it all back! I love you again! You knew this was just what I wanted! I'm so sorry about all those mean things I said before.

H&M is now open in Atlanta. Oh Atlanta, I'm sorry I've been such a bitch. I know you thought you had me at IKEA but I was playing hard to get. This seals it though. H&M is here. How did you know that this would be just the thing to get our relationship back on track?

Atlanta, I promise to be nicer to you on the internet. I promise not to complain about the drought or the roaches or the roadwork. I think you and I are starting to understand each other again. Atlanta, what can I do for you? How about some H&M shopping to stimulate your local economy. I said "H&M" not "S&M." Oh Atlanta you can be such a filthy whore you little minx.