Help Wanted

My friend Hallie over at Wonderful World of Wieners did a funny post today about the five people she wants in her life - chef, masseuse, driver, coach, and trainer. She also wants a Prada bag.

I read her post and I thought, I bet a lot of women who read this are totally behind Hallie, they absolutely agree with her. Heck, I agree a little bit. Here's my take, actually:

Chef - Oh no, I don't want a chef. I LIKE to cook. I am now able to admit I am a minor league "foodie." I don't view food as a hobby, but I am very interested in it. The Food Network is my second favorite channel, behind HGTV.

Masseuse -  I don't want a masseuse. Strangers rubbing me freaks me out. I also have an uncomfortable memory of a guy I was in a play with once who liked to come up behind girls and start gving back massages. I had to resist the urge to knee him in the crotch. 

Personal coach - Now, here is where I have to confess something. I think I can run my own life, thanks very much. Am I "perfect"? Well, no, obviously not. However, the thought of someone else telling me what to do, like they have more IQ than me, well, that sets my teeth on edge. My father was a benevolent control freak and although I was grief-stricken when he died, there was also a little relief, because he loved to try and run my life. He also tried to run my brother's life. Fortunately, my mother never tried to run our lives, and it's to her credit me and Bruce aren't institutionalized. Dad could be really intense sometimes, and not in a good way.

Trainer - If I don't want a personal coach, I sure don't want some muscle-bound dude yelling at me to work out. If I was really really rich and I could find a personal trainer who was polite, that might work. I don't envision that ever happening though.

Driver - Ah, here we have it. I so want someone to drive me around. I get so tired of driving. Atlanta is not a fun city to drive around in - the traffic is comparable to New York and Los Angeles. I was sitting at a red light this morning right in front of Michael's school when I heard a horn blast and a small car came tearing around to the left, and turned in front of me going 75 mph. I should have called the cops but I was so stunned I couldn't think. There were mommies walking kids to school. I have new grey hairs due to that maniac.

Here is a list of more people I would like in my life:

Gardener - Not to plant things, no, just to do the jobs I hate, like mowing and weeding. Actually, when I was growing up we had a "yard man." He mowed, did all the yucky jobs, and we did the rest. That was in Augusta. When we moved to Knoxville we didn't have yard help. My father would race home from the bank on pretty days, take off his immaculate three piece suit, put on clothes one would be embarrassed to take to Goodwill, and hurry outside to do his own yard work. I think, after dealing with all the crap he had to put up with at the bank, it was soothing to him to shovel cow manure - much more manageable crap. But I digress.

Personal Grocery Shopper - I hate grocery shopping, even at delightful farmer's markets. This prevents me from being a true foodie but so be it. The only fun thing about it is watching Michael zoom around on his heelies in Kroger, making forays to other parts of the store to grab what we need and come zooming back. Alesia likes to do this, too,a minus the heelies. So the last time I went grocery shopping without kids it seemed to take forever. I didn't figure out why until later, when I realized I didn't have my personal item wranglers with me.

Silver Polisher - We have a fair amount of silver and I hate polishing it.

Parent Advocate - My kids constantly have school issues that require me to step in. I am trying to get Alesia a 504 plan now, and Mike is not happy in his class.

Poop Cleaner - Coco has accidents. I know too much about rug cleaning. We have miles of tile and wood floors but Coco prefers the rugs. She cannot go outside because of her medical condition.

Mother and I think Coco could successfully learn to talk if she had speech therapy. She's so much like a little hairy person it scares us. If you say in a singsong voice "I love you" she will bark "I wuv oo" - well, not really but close. [As far as you know.] She knows a lot of words. She knows the word "go" as in "Let's go get in the car" - and starts barking frantically when she hears the word "go." I've started quietly telling the kids in Russian, "posh-lee" which means "Let's go" because it postpones the barking fusillade long enough for us to get to the door. If I say to Coco - "Go wake up Alesia!" Coco will race up the stairs and hop in Alesia's bed and lick her face. One day I told her that, and Alesia ignored her. Coco did a poop right next to the bed and Alesia stepped in it. The dog has brains, I tell you.