This might just be my favorite new billboard- and that’s saying a ton– courtesy of my big sis Kate:
Oh, Pittsfield. Thank you for your stellar advertising skillz.
Let’s dissect, shall we?
Happy birthday, Margaret! One hundred years…wow! That’s certainly something to…wait a sec. Who did you say was sponsoring this? Devanny Condron? The funeral home? Well, enjoy it now, Margaret. As Kate said- “Devanny Condron is waiting for you.”
Now, personally, I’d like to be feted by sugar free Red Bull on my 100th birthday. Perhaps Spanx. Definitely Splenda, with which I will undoubtedly be preserved. Or maybe some futuristic jet pack/meal tablet amalgamation of awesome. I’m not picky. (Takin’ notes, Peej?)
And speaking of Berkshire County…I know a lot of gals from home are getting married this year. As I am still dealing with the fallout from [ahem] some vendors, I’d love to lend some advice. Sadly, I cannot. Yet. (At least not until my lawyer gives me the go-ahead. Oooh…) That said- do you like personal attention? Stand-up contractors? Stellar service down to the last detail?
If not– email me. Have I got some people for you.
Back to Chicago.
Opening this week is a show featured in the Five To See from Metromix! It stars our very own Annie Gloyn…and I shall be there Friday. Woo! Deets here.
Another big thing that happened this week: I was accused of being 23 years old. It was great. It was unexpected. It was…short-lived. You see, one of the homes in which I nanny also employs a part-time housekeeper from Poland. (Facebook friends- skip ahead if you like. I really need to stop updating my statuses prior to Thursday.) She’s a very nice lady. But very Old Country. And not in the ‘Buffet’ way. When one of my kiddos mentioned that I was going to be THIRTY which is hardly even a NUMBER ’cause it’s so HIGH, the housekeeper chimed in with- “No! You 30? No. I think 23, 24.”
Me: Wow! Thanks! Nope. I’m gonna be 30!
Her: You look so young…
Me: Gee, I-
Her: But 30. That is so OLD! I did not know you were so OLD!
Me: I mean, I feel like 30 is the new-
Her: It is a good thing you had your baby when you did, no?
Me: ……….
Her: She is so pretty.
Me: Thank you.
Nevermind the fact that NONE of the families with which I work had their babies prior to 30, nor do I intend to not have any more, regardless of my perilous age. (Call Devanny Condron.) However, this is also the lady whom, right when I returned to work, mentioned my still-protruding belly. Which is never cool to mention unless it’s to state how awesome you think it is. Although, when I first got engaged, she was the one who showed shock and dismay. Why, you might ask? Well, it’s ’cause she thought I was only 17 and was worried about my future happiness. And that’s terrific. (She should, however, have a better handle on my age by now. She’s been mistaken about it no less than three times. Maybe she thinks I’m a different nanny. Perhaps we all look alike to her.)
And now, I get that unparalleled joy of having a stranger hold my infant daughter down and jab three needles into her thigh, while she simultaneously weeps and stares at me with a special mix of panic and betrayal.
Tradesies? Is it too early for a drink?
It’s five o’clock in Oslo.
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