Virtual Christmas Wishes to You

Warm Christmas Wishes to you and your family.

Happy 2007, let's make 2008 Great!

Bah! Humbug.

Go Scrooge yourself.



Make sure to turn on your speakers.



Can you even believe that we're less than a week from Christmas? Wow! Time sure flies.

I'm living with roosters!

I'm going utterly crackers, here. (As if it were something unusual-ha!)

My evil little children insist on being up at the pre-crack-of-dawn. I've said it many, many times before: Mommy don't do kids before 6:00 am.

I. Just. Don't.

There's just something very sick and wrong about children being awake and up (playing loudly) before 6:00am. I can't and don't want to handle it.

BUT!

My children have consistently been up and awake at 5:00am, 5:20am every. single. morning. I don't know what to do about it. I've tried to put them to bed later (10, 15, 30, 60 minutes (and more) past their bedtimes): still up in the 5:00am hour. I've tried to run them around and wear them out more in the afternoons: still up. I'm at my wits' end with what to do.

I am up early, early in the mornings. Part of my early waking is insomnia (ironically I could easily go back to sleep about 6:30am...too bad for me, that doesn't work), the other part is that from 5:30-about (ideally) 6:00am that is my private do-whatever-quiet-activity-I-want-to time. Just one problem: evil little monkeys who refuse to a) sleep until a reasonable hour, or, b) the same evil little monkeys who refuse to sleep until a reasonable hour also refuse to stay and play in their rooms.

So, dear reader, this is where you come in: I need your help! Desperately!

I'm looking for ideas of how to get my kids to sleep until at least until 6:00am or how to get them to play quietly in their rooms until 6:00am. Let's face it folks: I'm not picky. In my perfect world my kids would sleep until 6:30am weekdays and 8:00am weekends. But, at this point I'd settle for staying in their rooms until 6:00am.

Please, please write in. Help me find the 'magic bullet'. I'm open to just about anything--as long as it works.

I'm counting on you, dear friend, help me out!

What I get for driving without the radio on...

Driving home from work today I kept the radio/CD/satellite/DVD off.

Amazing, I know.

Actually, I turned it all off on my way to work today. Sometimes I crave quiet, and driving sans electronic gadgets blaring is one sure-fire way to get it.

Peace gives me time to think--it is a good thing and a bad thing, both.

Anyhow, as I was nearing home I drove past an 'Oil Can Henry's' and I glanced at the reader board:

Come on in. Free WiFi.

Huh?

I had a couple of thoughts: are we so addicted to entertainment that we have to take our laptop to get a 15minute (or more like 30 mins) oil change? And, I also thought: 'free WiFi' Is is possible to have WiFi for a charge (other than your own personal home account)?

Have you ever seen signs: WiFi $.15/minute for the first 30 minutes, and $2.75/hour after the first half hour?

I certainly haven't. Could you even charge if you wanted to? People drive around neighborhoods with their laptops open looking for a signal so that they can steal WiFi. I know this because the laptops that we have at work have a very limited range of reception so that random freaks can't park in the lot at night to steal our WiFi. It's a security issue.

Hmmm.

So, does it "Free" and "WiFi" said in the same breath (or reader board) make the statement an oxymoron?

See. Sometimes thinking gets me into trouble.

What do you think? What do you know? Can you charge for WiFi in a public space? I'm curious to know. If you have any idea, post a comment, will ya? Thanks!

Because, well, inquiring minds deserve to know.

Nikon: No Longer Gone!

Oh, sweet Nikon, how I do love thee, yes oh yes, it's surely true.

Oh, sweet Nikon I so missed you, you are my favo-rite little toy.

The days have been so long and dull.

I haven't been able to snap and click.

You are now clean and spark-ling, after just a month been gone.

Oh sweet Nikon I do love thee, I can't wait to click away.


(to the tune of Beethoven's 9th symphony, 'Ode to Joy')

Yup. It's official: I need a serious vacation.
Probably the kind of 'vacation' that has the staff in white lab coats.

But a break, nonetheless.

Pinkeye

The boy has pinkeye. Again.

He got it this July when we were on holiday in Sunriver. I have no idea how he contracted it or from whom, but he did. We were there a few hours, took the kiddos to the playground, and voila! the next morning the Chubber woke up with a green, goopy, crusty eye. And, of course, it was on a Sunday. After a trip to the urgent care center in Bend he had some nasty antibiotic eye drops, and 5 days later he was good as new.

Now, this go around he started to have a bit of redness in his left eye on Friday. I didn't think much about it--the poor kid is a walking allergy, and I figured it was nothing. Saturday his eye is a bit more red looking. I still wasn't concerned, again, I figured he's a little boy---they're destructive--and he likely poked himself or something. Sunday shows up and his eye is really red, and he's grumpy. I think to myself, "Oh, no. Not again. I bet he's got pinkeye."

So, being the semi-decent mother I can be, I phone the pediatrician and leave a message with the answering service. About an hour later I get a call back from the triage nurse saying the on-call doctor can see the boy. Yay!

I must say, I really like our pediatrician, and the clinic we go to. From this Sunday's events I found out that they are open from 9:30am-7:00pm, weekdays, 9:00am-4:00pm, Saturday, and 9:00am-12:00pm on Sunday. What amazing hours, huh? I'm fortunate in that my kids are rarely sick, and because of it I don't necessarily (before yesterday) have the clinic hours memorized. I remember the days when you only saw the pediatrician during 'banker hours' and you could forget about weekends--if you were sick over a weekend you had two choices: 1) lay around the house and 'die' waiting for Monday (and hope there's an appointment open), or, 2) go to urgent care downtown and have a better chance of dying of whatever illness you had while waiting, or worse, contract whatever other awful disease from the guy who passed out on the couch next to you after a week long alcoholic-bender (I'll never get the olfactory memory erased from my head: the smell of unwashed transient and booze puke that emanated from the urgent care center).

So, clearly, compared to the 'old days' we're living in the lap of luxury.

Today I'm home from work and have the Chublet with me since he's not quite out of the contagious (24 hours on antibiotics) period. Peanut is at the sitter. I felt kinda bad dropping her off, but I don't want to risk her catching pinkeye (though, if she were to get it she'd probably have it by now). To prevent the rest of us from getting it I am on a mission to sanitize...well, pretty much everything. Chublet touches everything, so I need to clean everything. Oh joy. But, I suppose the alternative is getting pink-eye. I've never had it before, and I don't really want to find out just how fun it is. So, I've got my work cut out for me.

Ratatouille

I had a very interesting start to my morning.

For starters, the evil Chubber was up at who-knows-what-time (when I got out of the shower and walked into my room, he was standing in the doorway--staring at me!), so I had a super early start: 5:30am. Ugh. I really need, honestly need a half-hour to myself first thing in the morning after I get out of the shower. With the Chublet being up so early, my 'personal time' instantly evaporates. At any rate, despite the early, early start with kids, the first part of my morning went smoothly. Where's the interesting part, you ask? Here it comes:

Once I got to work I was really productive. Rare for me, as I like to socialize a little bit in the morning with my co-workers and catch up on the goings-on (I miss out on a lot since I don't technically work full-time. Yeah, right.). I got the art materials we'd be using prepped and ready to roll for Friday, and the only thing I was missing was a few gallon-sized ziplock bags.

I started to look for the bags I needed. None to be found in my supply closet, desk, or random piles of detritus that inhabit my work-space. Bummer. That left me with having to cruise down to the second floor to look in the 'science closet.' I am in this closet constantly (I have a bit of a penchant for science...) and I know that there are not only gallon-sized ziplock bags, but quart-sized bags. Oh joy! As I was opening the storage closet a friend walked by and started to chat about what was going on, and, being me, I turned and said hello and got filled in on this very important 'memo.' As I'm standing there I'm noticing a foul odor emanating from the science closet. It is nasty and somewhat familiar, though I can't quite place it. Finally, important office talk taken care of, I begin to turn around to look in the closet when I hear it (slow things down to slow-motion): the plat-plat-plat of little naked rodent feet.

Eew, yucky!

Then, it all becomes odorifically clear: that smell was rat and/or mouse pee! And, those little feet that were scuttling across the floor were rat and/or mouse feet.

At this point, the elapsed time is approximately 0:01.05 seconds. I SCREAM! and jump up in the air, doing a fair imitation of my 'arachnoleptic fit' (the jiggy moves I perform when I happen upon a member of the arachnids--I do not like spiders!). To my horror, there are two small children in the a hallway who witness my 'freak-out-fit' and I run (think 'fairy princess' in the derogatory sense of the saying) to another co-worker's office.

Talk about a wake-up-call!

I complain to the appropriate department, and find out:

1. The appropriate personnel is aware that there is a (moderate) rodent problem
2. An exterminator is to be coming soon (I asked "soon? As in we're getting our new copy-machine 'soon' (it was supposed to have been installed some time after JUNE!))
3. The appropriate personnel had, in fact, killed a mouse in said science closet that very morning

Oh, how I do love working for the US government. Your tax dollars at work, baby! Nothin' but the best for our future.

So, Disney had a 'cute' rat in their new Disney/Pixar film "Ratatouille". We have disgusting, bad-smelling-pee, nasty little scuttling pink feet, dirty ghetto rats.

Hmmm.

How did they ever think rodents were cute and cuddly? I'll never know.

The Last King of Scotland & My 100th post

Last night B.J. and I watched a pretty powerful movie: The Last King of Scotland.



Yes, yes, I know it is old. I know it won an Oscar and a Golden Globe (best actor: Forest Whitaker), but it was new to me. So, I'm going to add my 'two-bits' about it.



The movie takes place in 1970's Uganda, during the tyranny years of Idi Amin's administration. It is a fictionalized version of what took place during the years 1971-1979.



I was completely blown away by this film. I, like a typical American, know very little about Africa and its myriad of problems within specific countries (I'm ashamed to admit it, but its true. I have no excuse). I appreciated this film, because it, although fictionalized, strove to portray what Amin was like: both as the monster and the man. It showed Amin as a well-loved political leader (president) of Uganda, and how hopeful the people were that he'd make things better. He was portrayed as a friend and caring father. And, of course, he was shown as the madman master-mind behind the ruthless and systematic murder of 300,000 Ugandan people.



Forest Whitaker (Amin) did a bang-up job in his role; doubtless, why he received such accolades for it. I cannot imagine being able to act so well and engross myself into a character so much that I would 'become' that person. Whitaker, to me, becomes Amin. His multifaceted talent showcases the spectrum of 'people' that was Amin.



What was most striking to me was the extras on the DVD. It interviews the characters and the Ugandan actors about how the feel about portraying Idi Amin and his regime in Uganda. As one Ugandan woman put it: "Idi Amin has not returned to Uganda since 1979 [he spent the years '79-'03 in exile in Saudi Arabia]. I don't know if I like the idea of Amin coming home."



The film was shot on location in Uganda, using Ugandan actors who, incidentally, in real life, survived the Amin years. Their interviews were, I believe, paramount to the credibility of the film. Actor after actor, and extra after extra, over the age of about 25, recounted with sadness and apprehension tales from their lives during the Amin administration. Brutal treatment of innocent and guilty alike, dismemberment, mutilation, humiliation, and unspeakable terror made up the composition of their lives. The worst of it, being, that the young Ugandan people (under age 20) do not know/remember about the Amin years. The atrocities are not spoken about, and people are not educated. This leaves the door wide open to yet another megalomaniac like Amin to waltz into power, romance the people, and commit the same types of atrocities over again.



It is very much like the Holocaust during Nazi Germany's rise to power during the first half of the 20th century. As people forget, or worse--are told lies that the atrocities NEVER HAPPENED--it leaves the history books open to be re-written and for the horrors to surface and happen all over again.



The Ugandans interviewed on the DVD hoped that by raising the specter of Amin, in Uganda and the world, that it would help the world to remember the cruelty and inhumanity that took place during the 1970's. They hoped that it would help the youth of Uganda to know a version of their past, a version of the truth, so that it could set them free from future tyranny.



I cannot recommend this movie enough. Watch it when you're in a 'space' to appreciate all that it encompasses. I know it was sitting on the top of my television set for a the upwards of two weeks (gotta love Netflix and the 'no late fees' policy) before I was where I could truly sit down and watch the movie. I'm glad I waited, and I'm glad that I was able to see it.



Do, find time, watch The Last King of Scotland.

Tomorrow is December 1, 2007

That means that NaBloPoMo is over. I will be able to say "I DID IT!!" and "I survived posting every single day in November (albeit, not necessarily thoughtful or good posts, but I did manage something).

Yay!!

Thanks to those of you who felt and/or posted your sympathy for my Bad Day. I'm really on a roll, today, albeit not as bad as yesterday, has been extremely aggravating. Thus, I'm having an aggravating day in lieu of a bad day. Does that count for anything? I didn't think so.

So, what was so bad about yesterday/today? (you may want to check out the list of links on my sidebar right about now, 'cuz the violins are coming out).

Rewind to Wednesday.

Work: the homo sapiens whom I deal with were great. Others, who, unfortunately, interact with my little universe were not. In fact, the description "wild-monkey-crazy-animals" would not be an overstatement. Can't go into any more details than that, because then it would be too specific,and the laws, and blah, blah, blah. At any rate, the behaviors (note: PLURAL) that were going on at work caused me to leave in a FOUL mood. I was so anxious and 'keyed-up' it took me the upwards of 2 hours to quit 'vibrating-internally' (you know, where you're so stressed out your guts feel like they're twisted in knots, and you start obsessing about what happened, and you get more and more upset--the negative cycle). Then, as a result of my stress I got upset stomach and started to have (am I actually going to publish this?) diarrhea.

Oh. So. Gross.

I was a very unhappy camper.

Then, I got to go back to work from 4:30-6:00pm for a conference/seminar that was mandatory. I'm currently taking a university class, and I have already done 25 classroom hours, and to finish it out I have a 'class' for 1.5 hours every month that I have to attend to receive my grade/credit. Oh joy. So,whatever 'unwinding' I had accomplished got undone when I walked in the doors for class.

Thursday:

Woke up at 5am still feeling ill. I have never had a somatic reaction like this to stress; ever. I rolled around and hoped I'd feel better...in the end I called in sick and spent the day feeling queasy and had unhappy intestines.

It gets better.

Wednesday afternoon after getting the mail (drove to the mailbox because, well, you know, I'd melt if I had to walk to the mailbox in the rain. You saw the Wizard of Oz, right? That was my sister), I noticed a tap-tap-tap noise. I figured I had a rock stuck in the tire of my van. Turns out I ran over a BOLT! AHHHHH!

So, after picking the kids up from the sitter (you thought I actually took a sick day and kept the kids home? Yeah. As IF.) I drove us to the Honda Dealer to ask about the tire. They told me to go to America's Tire Co. because they were really busy, and it would take a few hours for my car to get worked on.

Ok. I can do this.

We get to America's Tire Co. and my (evil screaming hellions) children behave like a 4 and 2 year old, respectively: they run around the shop, climb the tire/wheel displays, and scream like banshees. The tire guy looks mortified, and offers to 'work quickly' sine he sees I have "little ones." Great. Thanks. I appreciate it, I do. But, he tells me it is going to cost me $75 to fix my tire.

GAG!

Who pays $75 to fix a tire? Me, that's who. See, one of the joys of a 2006 Honda Odyssey Touring Model is this great little invention called run-flat tires. In a nutshell, run flats let you drive for 50 miles at speeds of up to 55mph without having to change the tire. The idea is so that if you're out and about and a tire gets a hole/leak you will be able to drive long enough (at highway speeds) to safely get to a service center without the hassle of changing a flat. Great idea. Poor design. Run flats wear out in about 30,000 miles of driving use. To replace them they are a special order, and here's what Consumer Reports had to say:

Consumer Reports magazine, said the tires offered a safety advantage, but the
tire forum on its Web site (consumer.org) had many complaints from run-flat owners about
higher-than-expected replacement costs, difficulty getting repairs and what some
considered excessive wear.

Ok. This is my only complaint about my van. Pretty good, don't you think, if that's my only gripe? I guess it is my 'just desserts' for insisting on the 'top-of-the line' if I were to cross over to the dark side of mommy-hood: driving a minivan.

The problem became, after I walked a sick me and two squealing, hungry little piggies up and down Lancaster Dr. and found a Chinese restaurant to feed us dinner (By now it was 5pm), was when we got back to the tire center an hour and a half later the tire was not fixed and he had, surprise-surprise, really GOOD news: It wasn't fixable.

I need 4 new tires (they're worn out) and I would have to immediately buy 1 new tire if I was to drive my van home. Great. The estimate he had for me for tires--ONLY, was $1,200.

It is amazing that I didn't barf right there on the counter.

Thankfully, by this time B.J. had met me at the store, and I let him take over the haggling.

In the end, since it was taking for-ever to get a tire changed, it is 6:45pm now, and we'd gotten to the tire shop just past 4:30pm, I pitch a fit, get the car seats squeezed in (should have used WD-40 to help) to the backseat of the Eclipse, if that is what you call the little shelf behind the front seats. Let's just say, preschooler and toddler in a sportscar is a real trip, in both senses of the word.

The kids and I get home. B.J. arrives about an HOUR later, with USED tire on the van, $150 lighter in the pockets for a USED FREAKING TIRE!!

We were so not loving the fancy tires, last night.

Friday:

Today was aggravating because my Nikon is still not back, got a call from the shop saying that it will be $95 to 'fix it' --huh? it is in the shop for a warranty-covered cleaning. I'm blogging right now so that I don't return the phone call and totally chew-off the store clerk's ear. My 1pm dentist appointment was cancelled. Let's just say I was dreading the cleaning all week long, and now that it has to be rescheduled, I have another new week to dread the cleaning, once I call back to reschedule.

Does it ever end? Oh, yeah, B.J. and I decided to buy new rims and tires for the Honda. No way can I put cheap-o steel rims on it (way too tacky, even for me) and that's gonna set us back $1800. But, that purchase (we're trying to hold off) is for next month--as in January.

But, to put it all into perspective, I'm grateful for what is a 'bad day' or an 'aggravating day' to me. Because, after reading about what the Ugandan people have to deal with, on Prose of Sharon's blog, I have nothing at all to gripe about. Even in my 'bad moments' I'm blessed beyond belief.

Here's to the weekend, and all the troubles I'm blessed with. I hope I can keep this perspective tomorrow, when we get picture re-takes of Peanut and Chubber.

We did it! Last post for NaBloPoMo.

And, how perfect is this? "The Twelve Days of Christmas" by The MacKenzie Brothers is on the raido right now. Their attitude sums up NaBloPoMo. Perfectly.

Bad Day

I'm having a bad day.

A very bad and very expensive, bad day.

And, I'm somewhat on the sick side. My guts are writhing and I want to barf.

And, not just from feeling ill.

UGH!

God Save the Queen

Our European vacation (pun intended) was quite the 'whirl.' We managed to cram in a tour of 9 countries. Being who I am, I would have liked to go to a few more, but time was against us. Our backpack tour included visiting these countries:

England

Belgium

France

Netherlands

Germany

Austria

Switzerland

Italy

and

Vatican City.

My, that is quite a list. It is really staggering, to me, to think that I've actually set foot in all of those places with their varied cultures and languages.

I have some good stories about the various places we went to, but I think that I'll let the pictures speak for themselves. Let's begin with England:

My, gotta love those Tube passes. They look like the Essex version of 'America's Most Wanted.'

I guess you're bound to look that way after foregoing sleep for a mere 36+ hours.

At the time, I thought these passes were so cool because they were an honest-to-goodness form of European identification.

Poor B.J., he looks like he's been on a 5 day meth bender.

And, what trip to England would be complete without a visit to good ol' Buckingham Palace? Geez, who is that? A fat Axl Rose? Gotta wonder what I was thinking taking that 'brain spider' (hat). I remember why I wore it--greasy hair! I thought the hat looked better than the four-day-unwashed hair. Hmmm...what would Stacey and Clinton say?

Big Ben vs. the Thumb

Tune in this Saturday to find out who will win this celebrity death match.

We had to visit the Hard Rock Cafe--the one in London is the original. I had wanted to visit this particular Hard Rock since I was about 7 years-old. The reason why I wanted to go there is because when I was about that age my brother went to England for an extended period of time, and when he came back he gave me a couple of souvenirs: a sweatshirt from Oxford University (no, he wasn't a student there...unless you count earning a degree in pub crawls), and a Hard Rock Cafe t-shirt. That was my most cherished t-shirt for the longest time, and it is one of the artifacts from my past that inspired my lifelong goal of going to Europe, so needless to say, it was reaching one of my life's major goals to be able to take the cheesy (there's that Axl Rose chick, again) picture in front of the shop.

Interesting fact: Stonehenge is made of stones from the Presley mountain range--200 miles away. Nobody knows how exactly the stones got to where they are, but there they are. Also, no matter the time of year, it is cold. The Stones themselves, also have different temperatures (touch) to them as well; some stones feel 'warm' while others feel 'cool.' And, they really do.

Why is it I always have to act like a jerk and make 'the face'? Do any of you ever feel compelled to make the face in pictures? For any reason?

For what it's worth, I don't know. Maybe it is an excuse to show off just how Gene Simmons-like my tongue is? (I can, in fact, touch my tongue to my nose. How's that for random trivia?)

At any rate the exchange rate was about $1.60 (us) to one Pound (British). Our money didn't go very far in England, so
if nothing else, the look on my face says it all: The U.K. is very expensive.

Goodbye to England and the white cliffs of Dover.

Jumping the Pond

As I've said, travel was to be a major part of the relationship that B.J.and I would have. After our initial trip to Florida we'd traveled around the state, and taken a fun week holiday to 'Fabulous Las Vegas', but, the best trip that we ever took (to date) was to spend nearly a month in Europe.

It had always been a dream of mine to be able to sight-see and experience a taste of life on the 'continent.' Ironically, B.J. never really thought about or cared to visit Europe. I never really thought it would be a reality (at least not in my impovershed youth), due to the expense of flying, quite literally, to the other side of the world. So, when the opportunity presented itself, I didn't waste any time mulling it over--I ran with it!

I remember it clearly: I was at University and it was right around the noon hour, and as usual, I was in the student union building. I generally did not take classes past noon (my circadian rhythm says it is nap time around 1pm, so taking classes meant I'd fall asleep in class. Very embarrassing.) but I had this one geology class that was only offered at like 2pm, which left me with approximately 3 hours to 'bum around' and study. Hence, my 'tenure' at the S.U.

Contained within the walls was of the EMU was the student travel agency. It was my habit to look in the windows whenever I went past. To this day, whenever I pass a travel agency I can't help but look at the specials advertised in the window and fantasize. This particular afternoon, while meandering aimlessly through the corridors with nothing in particular to do, I saw a flight and a price I could not refuse: Portland to Gatwick (London, UK) RT for $175.00.

No, that wasn't a type-o.

Even back then, people's eyebrows would meet their hairline in surprise over the price. I could hardly believe the good luck and the sheer economy of price, myself. I remeber, later that year, after our Europe trip, we flew to Florida on Southwest Airlines (gag!), and the tickets were about $100 more--just to fly from the West coast to the Southeast. It did (and does)boggle the mind.

Me, being a bit of a hedonist and eternally a shopper on the lookout for a good deal,hightailed myself into the travel agency, slapped my Visa card on the counter, and 15 minutes later walked away with two round-trip tickets to Europe and not a clue what else I'd do with them.

It was so much fun telling B.J.about my executive decision that we'd be going to Europe in March (this was at about the end of January,2000). He blanched (slightly) at the thought of the trans-Atlantic flight, but soon settled into the idea and joined in on my manic mood.

The flight was one of the worst I'd ever been on. I can remember flying out of Portland and watching the overhead storage bins sway alarmingly to and fro (with about a 8-10" arc of motion) and being convinced that the next bump of turbulence wouldn't end in just a mere 300' drop, but a 'final descent.' I just knew we were going to die. The terror of the terrible take-off ended about 45 minutes into the flight. It was the longest stretch of 'turbulence' that I'd ever endured (or hope to endure). Our connecting flight from Newark, N.J. to Gatwick was much more smooth, and the armrests of my particular seat, upon deplaning, did not show any evidence of my having occupied it--there were not, thankfully, 10 crescent shaped depressions from my white-knuckling it through the flight--as there were on the first leg.

Thirty hours and about 6,000 miles later we touched down: Europe.

My dream had become our reality.

1,000 words and more...

...And I want a computer for Christmas, Santa.


...the award for grumpy face goes to...


And, if all else fails, cuddle your mommy

B.J.'s Big B-Day

Today it's all about my hubby: I'm going to tell you about how we celebrated B.J.'s 35th.

It all started about a month ago. I was sitting at the table eating lunch with the kids on a Saturday when I heard that Billy Joel would be coming to town for one night only. Immediately, I thought to myself, that's it! That would be the perfect Birthday gift for B.J. He's tough to shop for (what man isn't?), and I'm perennially broke, but this would be such a surprise.

The only problem (besides money, of course): it was an evening concert, and I have two small kids. What to do, what to do?

What I did: I got on the line with my friend B., and asked her if she and her family would be home on Thanksgiving weekend and would they be willing to host my monkeys over-night so that I could surprise B.J. As luck would have it, they would be home and, generous as she is, my friend said "bring 'em on over." THANK YOU B.!

So, all that left me with was purchasing the tickets.

I've said it before, and I'll continue to say it: I love the Internet. It allows me to shop from the convenience of my own home and maintain my sanity. Without online shopping I'd have to publicly lose the few marbles remaining in my head while trying to wrestle 2 naughty Little monkeys at the Ticket-master counter. Thanks to high-speed internet, and two tries and a credit card number later, I had 2 tickets for the show, including parking, purchased and en route via USPS within the next 14 days.

The tough part came when I realized I'd have to keep my big mouth shut for nearly a month in order to surprise B.J.. I'm as bad as a kid, when there's something really good, I can hardly wait to give it. The concert was no exception. To get the most 'bang' out of it, I had this huge plan orchestrated (with my friend B. in on it) where I'd tell B.J. that I've planned a night at the movies, and B. agreed to watch the kids, and instead of going to the theatre, I keep driving all the way to the Concert Hall and SURPRISE! we're not going to see the Sponge Bob Movie (or insert whatever horrible film is out currently in place of S.B.), but we're here to see Billy Joel!

It was a nice fantasy while it lasted.

Since B.J. loves Billy Joel, and, you're never gonna believe this, listens to the radio and heard about the concert (what a knee slapper!), he kept bringing up that he wanted to go. I'm thinking to myself 'oh no, what if he gets online and buys the tickets?'. I had to do something to prevent disaster: 4 tickets for twice the price!

So, whenever I would leave the house I'd admonish him: "DON'T buy ANY-THING online. Promise me you WILL. NOT. BUY. ANY-THING." He'd always say "yeah, yeah I'm just looking." Poor guy, must have thought I was the biggest shrew...Anyhow, B.J. will. not. shut. up. about the concert, so I finally gave up and handed him the invoice for the concert tickets and said that the kids and I were going to surprise him, but here's his gift early.

He was speechless. And, had a grin that split his face from ear to ear. Needless to say, he was very happy. I then explained why I didn't want him to buy anything online. And, this is classic, his response was: "I thought you were talking about me buying car or motorcycle parts. I'd have never thought to look for concert tickets."

DOH! Oh well, the best laid plans of mice and men, right?

So, we headed up to the concert last night. En route we stopped at Bridgeport Village and had a nice dinner at the California Pizza Kitchen. It was a bit more expensive than the average Red Robin dinner, but well worth it--especially since we were sans children. A short drive later and we were parking for the concert.

Let me just say Billy Joel is phenomenal in concert. I was highly impressed, as was B.J. Our experience is that many recording artists sound great on their albums (after what they've done has been mixed and mastered to perfection) and when you hear them live we're often left, puzzling our puzzlers, "who was that?". They don't sound at all very good. Joel, on the other hand, if it were possible, sounded better live than recorded. A real A++ performance. He played many 'B-side' songs and other 'obscurities' (to use his word), and threw in a few 'greatest hits' for good measure. He finally ended the concert with and third encore: "Piano Man".

Overall, a great performance. B.J. was pleased, and I was thrilled because we had so much fun, and I really hit a home-run this year with his birthday present.

Too bad I was such a boring date on the way home: 2 blocks from the venue, and I was conked-out and snoring in the car. And to think, we used to stay out until 2, 3, 4 in the morning before calling it a night. My, things have changed...

Family Portraits

Yuck.

I mean,truly, it was a horrible experience. Wardrobe malfunctions aside, usually family portraits are at worst OK and at best a lot of fun. Our family portrait, for this year, sucked.

Yep. That is the best diction that I can muster to describe it: it sucked.

We didn't do a family portrait last year because I truly did not have the energy or the need for a new picture in my living room. This year, since the Chub is not an infant, and you can't tell who it is in the picture (well, any reasonable human being with two brain cells to rub together can...but I digress) it was time to get a new one done.

Oh, yay.

The kids' outfits, as I said yesterday, matched perfectly. (I'm so completely jonesing for my Nikon--that still isn't back from the shop yet) If I had the capability, I'd post a pic of their cute little outfits. You'll just have to trust me. I'll eventually be able to post. B.J. and I did not go shopping for a new outfit for pictures. Why? I don't know. Chalk it up to lethargy or cheapness. Either would work. Amazingly, B.J. rummages though his closet and finds a pair of black slacks and a purplish dress shirt that coordinates nicely with the kids' clothes. That left me. Oh, joy.

I have had a continual wardrobe crisis for about the past 8 months or so. I lost enough weight that my clothes got too big. A good thing, right? So, I did the Dr. Phil thing and promptly got rid of all my too-big clothes (Dr. Phil says get rid of them unless you plan to fit into them again...I do NOT plan to fit into them EVER again). And, because money is always tight, and time even tighter I have not really gotten around to replacing my wardrobe. My poor co-workers must be sick-to-death of seeing me in the same 5 outfits; I know I am. Back to pictures: I have a purplish sweater but it didn't work, along with just about every other thing in my closet. I finally settled on (through barely contained tears) dark wash jeans and a (too embarrassing to admit) old black velvet top. I resolved that we'd just have our portrait 'from the waist up'. WRONG!

Whatever the photographer was thinking, I'll never know. Clearly, the whole family, except mom, looks great. Dressed up, color coordinated, picture-perfect. I tell her about my 'waist up' theory. Fat lot of good it did. She poses us, on the floor, mom (me) in front sort of leaning over to the side full body shot, B.J. squatting behind me, Peanut standing behind me on the other side, and a cranky, screaming, whiny chublet in the front of me. This is just the beginning.

Internally I'm groaning to myself, what part of 'from the waist up ONLY' did she not understand? And, to make matters worse, she is trying to get chubber to look happier than someone marching to the guillotine (his current pose) by making silly noises, playing peek-a-boo through an empty box. Normally, this type of activity makes little kids giggle and smile. Or, at least snap out of their funk. It succeeds grandly in making Chublet more and more angry. He actually becomes incensed, complete with more screaming, and, my personal favorite, throwing himself on the floor in the 'rug' pose. Can this woman simply not shut up? Can she not see she's not helping, but making things worse? For all intents and purposes, she cannot.

So, we scream our way through the family shot. When we reviewed the pictures, there was only ONE shot where we were all looking the same direction, and Chub was not openly screaming: the picture with me, full-body in front. With B.J.'s white sweat socks showing. Classy. I think we'll be the modern equivalent to a Norman Rockwell...

Family portrait done, we proceeded to torment ourselves and the kids some more: sibling shots. Let's just say that went over like a lead balloon. For a change, Peanut was compliant, smiled on cue, tilted her head 'just so' and sat still. Who was this child? On the other hand, there was the chublet: cranky, angry, flopping in the floor. The proverbial little kid pitching a fit in the grocery store. You know exactly what I'm talking about.

The kids' photos were so horrible, I didn't buy even one of them. Even the photographer who reviewed the proofs with us covered up Chublet's face and said, "these would be great if we could cut this out." I agreed.

So, the moral of the story? I don't know. All I do know is that my wardrobe malfunction will be immortalized in our 2007 Family/Christmas portrait. I'll forever remember how entirely two years old Chublet was, and that the Peanut was proportionally angelic to Chublet's evilness.

We have rescheduled the kids' portrait for next weekend. Let's hope it is less of a toddler rodeo. Please.

Ham Day...part deux.

Do you ever have days where you feel like you accomplish absolutely nothing, yet when you go through your 'to do' list, you've hit 99.5% of what there was?

Well, believe it or not, today was a 'I feel like I got zilch done, but really we did a lot' kind of day.

Kitchen cleaned (for the 12th time). Check.
Fall/Harvest decorations down and put away. Check.
Christmas storage bins down from attic (minus the nagging, I only asked B.J.one time). That's a 'double' Check-Check.
(Faux) Fir tree assembled. Check.
Christmas tree decorated. Check.
Main living areas ho-ho-holiday-fied. Check, check, check.
Broken antique Christmas ornament cleaned up. Check.

Christmas portraits. Check.

Here's where you insert the needle-scratching-vinyl-record soundbite.

This is another post, for tomorrow, entirely.

Let's just say, it was SOOOOooo much fun, it gets its own entry. Nuff said.

Christmas lights (minimal) up outside.

So, despite all my accomplishments for today, I feel like I just went in circles and got nothing done.

I'll post more tomorrow. About Christmas portraits. (insert soundbite from shower scene from PSYCHO....here!).

Happy Ham Day!

Wishing you, your family, and closest friends a wonderful Thanksgiving.

We truly have so much to be grateful for. Even the least of us, the most socio-economically challenged people (as in Americans) have more than the overwhelming majority of the world. It's a staggering thought, but it is true.

While my family is enjoying a bountiful menu of ham, fresh baked bread, green bean casserole, fruit salad, mixed winter veggies, and pumpkin chocolate chip cookies for dessert, there are so many who have nothing.

Inspired by Stephanie I'd like to include a link to FREE RICE. At this site you get to play a vocabulary game (geeks unite!) and for every word you get correct through the website/sponsors the UN is able to give 10 grains of rice to help end world hunger. Pretty neat, huh? It is for a very good cause, and while we sit in the respective 'lap of luxury' digesting our way out of a turkey coma (or in our family's case, a ham coma) you can play a game and feel good. You'll feel good because you're not just goofing off on the computer, you're doing a little something to help someone else who does not enjoy the luxury of enough food to eat.

We sure do complain a lot, me included, for all that we're blessed with. I've gone on about it before, we, as Americans, are the luckiest individuals in the world. What we consider obstacles to overcome, are nothing compared to the rest of the world. At least we have the opportunity to overcome the obstacles in our paths.

With a heart of gratitude and blessing, happy Thanksgiving to you. May the abundance that God blesses each and every one of us with spill over onto those less fortunate than ourselves.

I'm tired

Truthfully, I don't particularly want to post tonight. But, since I committed to doing a post Every. Single. Day. In November, I'm sticking to it.

Got both the kids' hair cut today. Peanut has a 'bob' very short, and cute. She can't get the hair into her mouth--good news for me: no dread-locks coming out of her derriere from eating/swallowing her hair. It is just as disgusting (and worse) as it sounds.

Dealt with a screaming, thrashing Chublet who did NOT (vehemently did not) want his hair cut. The stylist (hair BUTCHER!) who cut his hair, totally whacked it off. He looked like the 'hack job' from The Grinch Who Stole Christmas. It was everything I could do not to cry right there in the salon. I requested Chubbs hair trimmed and layered up, but still long--as in chin-length. The guy who cut his beautiful long blond hair chopped it off in a typical little boy hair cut, except Chubber's hair looks awful. Like a little boy cut about 6 months overgrown. I am just sick to my stomach. Yes, yes, I know its just hair and will grow back. But I loved my boy's long hair (past his shoulders). So, I'm just bummed out.

I want to post more about B.J. and I, but that involves scanning photos to do the post the way I want to. I'm too lazy. Whine, whine whine.

So, on that uplifting note I'll leave you with this rockin' YouTube video. Go on, waste 8some-odd minutes of your life. Its gory, but fascinating, in an ANIMAL PLANET sort of way. I found it at DOOCE.

Click here and lose some brain cells.

Happy Early Turkey Day.

I hope everyone has a great holiday with minimal stress; and remember, the calories don't count all day Thursday.

Worst day at work. Ever.

I'm so totally wasted. Work last night completely stank. I try not to let work seep into my little corner of the blogosphere, but last night was the worst night at work. Ever.

I had a heck of a time falling asleep, then woke up several times last night. Finally, I woke up this morning thinking about what happened. That's just how bothered I am.

I wanted to post about it here. In fact, I even drafted a post. However, upon second thought I have chosen not to post it. There are too many legal implications. I think I may be in violation of confidentiality laws, it isn't ethical, and I can't risk either.

Let's just say my last 'worst day ever' at work involved physical violence (by an adult) and legal action. That was a royally sh***y day. By far, last night was worse than that, and involved no physical violence at all.

I hate this. Because of what I do I cannot vent for fear of legal recourse. It is so utterly unlikely that anyone would ever connect up the 'dots', especially since I write under a nom de plume, but there's the chance.

Some days I really hate my job.

Some of my Favorite Things: Favorite Pool in the US

This is my favorite pool. In fact, this pool is one of my all-time favorite places in the entire United States.

This is Coral Gables Venetian Pool. I count some of my happiest memories as a child as coming from spending time with my mom and my grandmother at Venetian Pool.

There is quite a lot of history to this beautiful place. For my family there are at least 3 generations worth of history at this pool. My grandmother took my mother and her siblings as children to swim. And, if I could dig through family photos and find them, there are pictures showing that I was brought her as a little girl to swim, too.

I always loved coming here. It was so refreshing, and, in some instances, downright cold to swim in the clear spring-fed waters. I loved to swim with my grandma into the 'grotto' and under the water into the caves that were formed from the native coral rock that is everywhere in Miami.

Thinking of Venetian Pool, I can't help but remember stories of my mother and her siblings playing in the water here. One story in particular always springs to mind: When my Aunt J. was about 3 years old she managed to climb to the top of the rock cliff all by herself, and jumped off. Yep, they said even though J. couldn't swim a stroke, she took a flying leap off of the 25' high cliff and landed in the water. Luckily people jumped in right away and pulled her out of the water before she drowned. Nobody could believe she did it, and they were never able to figure out just why she decided to jump off. All of this took place in the mid 1940's.

I am so glad to see that this pool is on the national registry of historical places. It gives me peace of mind that such a treasure in the 'Gables will be preserved for many generations to come. I look forward to someday being able to take my own children to swim at Venetian Pool, to continue the legacy that was left to me by my mother and my grandmother.

This post is dedicated to you, Grammy and Nana. I miss and love you both. Thank you for giving me such good memories and for all the good times playing at the pool (and the beach!). I will never forget.

Inseperable

After our first date, B.J. and I were nearly inseparable. That, dear ones, resulted in majorly ticked-off friends. To be precise, my friends were angry as hornets that I was spending so much time with B.J. Funny how that happens, especially since it was those friends who so forcefully pushed me to go out with B. J. Guess it is true: be careful of what you wish for, because you just may get it.

Angry (jealous) friends aside, B.J. and I really hit it off. We found we had a lot of things in common: movies, music (to a lesser extent, I never could enjoy the twangy country music he liked), going to the coast, shopping. Yes, you read that correctly, B.J. likes to shop . (Yes, I heard angels singing, too.)

We spent nearly every weekend driving over to the coast. B.J. and I enjoyed lots of dinners and lunches at little mom & pop dives, long walks on the beach collecting shells, interesting rocks, random detritus, and countless hours driving to nowhere in particular.

::sigh:: I miss those carefree days every once in a while.

Those certainly were the days. It really set into motion a theme of travel in our relationship.

Three months into our relationship we took our first long-distance trip together. We flew to Florida for two weeks. The trip was to celebrate me (amazingly) completing of high-school. It was such a wild and exhausting (in a good way) trip. I can hardly believe that my parents consented to letting me do it, but they did. Will I be such a cool parent? Lemme think about that...NO!

I remember the green Chevy Blazer that we rented, and the fact that I was not even remotely old enough to legally drive it. We drove from north-central Florida to Key West and back on that trip. I can't say I didn't enjoy myself the whole time. How could I not? Eighteen years old, cute boyfriend, and on a wild and crazy road-trip up and down the sunshine state. Life was good.

Our trip included visiting my family (currently, my entire family resides in Florida), driving on the sand in Daytona, going to Disney World, Miami Beach, and the Keys.

Disney World was, as to be expected, very diverting. I don't believe I ever remember my feet hurting so much before (or since!) from walking. We spent 3 days at Disney, walking here, there, and everywhere. I can remember after the second day my feet hurt so bad that to get to the bathroom from our bed I crawled across the hotel floor to get there. That was certainly a first. Generally one thinks of crawling to the bathroom to, uh, worship the 'porcelain god' after a rough night, not after a day of truly innocent fun.

B.J. and I probably had some of the most fun moments cruising around Key West on rented scooters. If you ever have an opportunity to go to Key West, go. Be sure to check out the cemeteries there. Key Westerners are known for being unique and their tombstones are no exception. Hands down, one of the best headstones I saw read something to the effect of "...at least I know where he'll be tonight."

Before our trip together, B.J. had never spent any real time in Florida, so when a typical southern Florida storm rolled in on our last day in the Keys he was blown away. In south Florida, it isn't uncommon to have beautiful calm, blue skies in the morning, and within minutes black stormy clouds rolling in, blackening the day to night. That is exactly what had happened to us.

We chose to stay in a floating hotel while we were in the keys--an old boat that had been converted to hotel rooms--and that last morning it was sunny, blue, and beautiful. By the time we had gotten out of the shower the wind had picked up, and black thunder clouds had begun to roll in at an alarmingly fast pace. Normally, this wouldn't be a problem, but since we were in the islands, if there was a truly big storm the problem about leaving becomes this: there is only a single little 2-lane South Dixie Highway that leads in and out of the islands. Meaning, when serious storms hit, if you don't leave immediately you ain't gonna leave. Since we were staying in a floating hotel, we decided it would be best to head out sooner rather than later. B.J. was terrified. The storm was getting progressively worse. In the space of about 20 minutes we had gone from sunny and clear to pitch-black--at 8 o'clock in the morning--with sheeting rain and 40+ mph. gusts of wind.

Welcome to paradise. There will be no cheeseburgers served today.

We packed up and headed north, to Miami. In the end, the storm wound up nothing more than a typical tropical squall. Nothing out of the ordinary. The storm managed to blow itself out by 3pm that day. Some days, up here, I miss those storms a lot. I certainly miss the fact that in Florida, when it rains, it rains. Then the storm is over. The rain is done. Up here it rains, and drizzles, and mists, and pours, and rains some more. For days on end. Very slow. Very soggy. Very much we can't do anything. (I am clearly not a true north westerner...doubt I ever will be. In fact, I always carry and use an umbrella.)

This trip was just the first of many that B.J. and I would embark on during our 'courtship' years.

Why did both of them have to get sick for us to have a nice day together?

That is the question B.J. asked me as we were cleaning up the kitchen this evening.

I don't know. Why is it that once both of our little monkeys are with the sniffles that we have a nice family afternoon together? Maybe it is because they've both slowed down enough to leave 'warp drive.' Maybe it is because, praise the Lord, we had an entire day free of sibling squabbles and rivalry. Maybe we'll never actually know.

We really did have a nice afternoon today. We decided that since it was so rainy and ugly outside today that there were two options open to us: 1) lay around the house all day like slugs, watching DVDs (for the millionth time), or 2) load up the family in the mommy-mobile, spend some of the money burning a hole in our pockets up at IKEA.

We chose option 2.

On the drive up the kids snoozed and/or spaced out. It was quite nice as it allowed us a modicum of peace and quiet that we usually do not get to enjoy on family car trips. The drive would have been really nice if I hadn't been white-knuckling the arm rest all the way to the store. When it rains and pours (as it often does in this state) and the traffic doesn't slow down and there's oh, say, less than 2 car-lengths between the cars--and very poor visibility--I turn into a nervous wreck. I worry (with what possible change to life's outcomes, I don't know) endlessly that there will be a massive pile-up of cars on the interstate. It is fruitless for me to do so, but I suppose it is a little Post-traumatic stress left over from a really bad car-wreck I was in when I was about 18 (it was a 3 car pile-up).

While we were at IKEA the kids were fantastic. They stuck with us, followed directions, ate their lunch without any screaming, throwing of food, or planning a massive coup d'état. I call that a successful trip. Although we did not have any luck finding the right measurements for wooden mini-blinds (dang! that means it will be at least $100 per window...and I have how many windows in my house? 1...2...5....7....) we did find some really neat little gadgets and storage devices.

Once home, the peace continued. After checking my vital stats more than once to see if I had passed to the hereafter, we managed another beautifully orchestrated and peaceful meal. The chubber was too tired to keep his little eyelids open, and passed out in my arms on the couch post-meal.

This left us open to make some pumpkin bread (thanks for the inspiration from Martin Bliss). Generally Chublet is my co-conspirator in gustatory experimentation, but tonight Peanutzilla wanted to help out. Normally, Peanut attempting to be my helper in the kitchen results in a melt-down (hers and mine) because impulse control and the ability to follow simple directions are more difficult that you could imagine. But, tonight the good vibe of the afternoon followed with us. Peanut was compliant, helpful, cheery, and we had fun measuring, dumping, and mixing the dough. Not a temper-tantrum or melt-down to be seen.

I just love when we have good days. They truly are so far and few between for our family. Usually Peanut and Chubb-chubb like to 'tag-team' with the naughty behavior. Once one is subdued the other jumps in with 'round 2' of bad behavior. Today, it wasn't the case. It makes me wonder if this is what an average middle-of-the-road family experiences on a somewhat frequent basis. I hope so.

What a lovely day. Perhaps sickness is underrated? I hate to think today was as good as it was due to both of them having a cold...

I'll just savor the memory of this afternoon, and hold tight to it for those days that are more frequent in this household, the days where mommy is red in the face and the monkeys are swinging from the proverbial chandelier.

TGIF BABY!

I made it back. Alive.

In all seriousness, it was a great trip. There were 70 little monkeys and not nearly enough adults, but everyone had a great time, and nobody lost any body parts or got left behind.

It rained...and rained...and rained some more. Even my Gor-tex Columbia jacket soaked through. I hate being cold. I hate being cold and wet even more. I. Do. Not. Like. The. Cold. Did I mention I was soaked all day long? Ok. You get the point.

At any rate, I'm glad we did the trip. I can't believe I've more or less already signed-on to do this again. For two whole days. In June. Should't be cold and rainy then. SHOULDN'T.

B.J. stayed home with the Peanut today, as when she woke up she sounded like a barking seal. I felt bad, because today was the one day I absolutely could not take off of work. And, there was my baby girl, barking and feeling ill. B.J. phoned in to his job to take care of her.

The doctor said she has a little bit of a sinus infection, so B.J. decided to run by Costco for her prescription on the way home from the Dr. Chublet is at the sitter until B.J. can pick him up (I had the 2-door non-kid-friendly-car today= no car seat = I can't pick up the boy). So I have approximately 30 minutes left until they get home.

I'm STILL cold.

Hi ho hi ho it's off to my hot tub I go...

T.G.I.F.!!!

Just a little bitty rant

It's 9:41pm. I just got home.

Today was really really busy. Worked until 3:45 today, picked up the kids at 4ish, and left again at 4:30 (I have a super-sized portion of working mommy guilt tonight).

Went to dinner at Da Vinci's with co-workers and then went to Crystal Apple awards to support a friend who was nominated (she didn't win--I'm so bummed). GREAT food, muy expensive-o.

I'm so totally toast right now.

I have outdoor school/field trip tomorrow. Found out I have no clean laundry ARRRGH! I didn't have time to run a load today, and B.J., gotta love him, didn't do anything besides play computer games. ALL. NIGHT. LONG. Never even crossed his mind to throw a load of laundry in the washer (how can he forget about the mountain on my bedroom floor that is 3 feet tall!!). So, should be fun trying to find something remotely appropriate to wear tomorrow.

Time for bed. I hope the Advil I took kicks in soon. Mental note to self: no wine to drink in the middle of the week. Wine=Pounding headache. Bad idea.

More Coffee Humor

A friend who knows I'm utterly addicted to coffee sent me this little link.

Follow these directions:

1. Click this link.
2. PUT THE COIN IN THE VENDING MACHINE
3. CHOOSE YOUR DRINK
4. CLICK ON THE CUP WHEN IT IS READY
5. CLICK ON "APRI"

Don't forget to click on "APRI" in the last box !!!

Happy Thursday!

Blogger Homework

I'm excited to go to the blogger get-together here, and while getting ready I have homework.


How great is this? I almost have a built-in post ready-made for me. I just have to add a few important details, and Voila! Instant post for NaBloPoMo!


Yee-haw! Thanks girlies.


Here it goes:


What is your motto? Uhhh...I don't really have one? I guess if I had to choose I'd pick the one my mother told me many moons ago: When the going gets tough, the tough go shopping. What sage words of wisdom she imparted upon me. Nothing gives quite the pick-me-up as a little retail therapy. Cheaper than the shrink, too!

What superhuman power would you most like to have? Gotta agree with Alida, here. I'd love to be able to fly. I've always fantasized, since I was a kid, how neat it would be to fly. As an adult I'd love to be able to do that Star Trek transporter thing. Just think, how easy would long-distance travel be with kids. Uh-huh. Now you're crackin'...

What makes you laugh? Reading all these wonderful blogs. I'd also have to admit to a gloriously unrefined joy in listening to the 'Blue Collar Comedy Tour' CDs.

Cats or dogs? Once upon a time (read: pre-children) both. Nowadays, 1 kitty cat. In the future, say in 20 years or so when Sparkle-boo kicks the bucket, none. The chublet was tested at the allergist's office, and he's super allergic to cats and to a lesser extent dogs. **sigh** B.J. was really hoping to get a Bengal Cat, guess it has to wait 'til chublet is in college.


Would you rather be a little smarter or a little sexier? Sexier. Hands-down, sexier. (not PC...but ya know what? I don't care!!) See, I know what its like to be a bit of a brain, but the sexy part...well, all you have to do is read this previous post to get your answer. This pic is for you, Alida (the one I finally got around to scanning):

I'll just get someone to whack me with the 'smart stick' and I'll be both sexy and smart!


What is the one thing you'll never understand? Why, despite all our education, technology, and free social programs, there are such a high number of unwanted children born in our country. I just HATE this social epidemic, and I'll never understand it. There is absolutely no reason for it, and EVERY child should be wanted. Ok. Climbing down from my soap-box, now. However, I am still debating getting my very UN-p.c. bumper sticker made to stick on the back of my mommy-minivan:


Abstinance is best...but, it is easier to change a CONDOM than a DIAPER.


My life would be simpler if? I had all the answers to solve the moral, social, and ethical dilemmas that face our world. I don't, but it doesn't stop me from getting angry and outraged.

A self-cleaning house would be a good second-runner up to make life easier.


The big decision I'm currently wrestling with? Do I accept my Dad's offer to help pay for us to fly down to Florida for Christmas? The last time we flew down (on our nickel) we had such a lousy trip. In a nutshell (and to save this from being a rant) my Dad was a terrible host. So, do we chance it, with his financial help? Or do we stay here? What to do, what to do...

Helpful hints for cleaning hot tubs

Every few months it becomes necessary to clean the hot tub. Somehow, despite all the nasty chemicals, an ozonater, and mineral wand, micro-organisms manage to survive, multiply, and make the tub unsanitary.

Hence, the need to clean it out.

Here are some practical tips anyone can employ to make this boring (but necessary) chore easier:

Tip #1:

Get someone else to clean the spa. Plead, wheedle, whine, bribe, blackmail--all techniques work, it just depends on your personal preferences. Once someone else is doing the job, you can sit back, relax, enjoy that 5th cup of coffee and read/blog/watch paint peel.

Tip #2:

If tip #1 doesn't work, or isn't employable at this time this time-saving tip, courtesy of a suggestion from my friend B., works like a charm. Once you've got your hot tub mostly drained--as in as far down as the drain will let you, and you're down to the extra fun part of the task where you 'bail' water out, get out your shop-vac.

Yes, your shop-vac* Simply turn on the suction, plop the hose into the tub, and watch the machine do the bailing for you.

This so-simple-its-stupid tip (notice, however, that I wasn't smart enough to come up with it all on my own...) saves you 30+ minutes of labor intensive (OK, well, long and boring, but easy) work.

I am so in love with my new strategy for cleaning the hot tub, it makes the chore so much less tedious, and speeds up the process a lot.

Try it out. Let me know how well it works for you!



*make sure your shop-vac is a wet/dry model, and that you have removed the 'dry' feature filter.

First Date

Saturday morning (11am) rolls around in all its sunshiny glory. I am a nervous wreck. I can hardly believe that I am going to call B.J. and try to figure out how to get to his house on the other side of town, the rich side of town.

I heave a few humongously deep breaths and phone him. He's pleasant, cheerful, and gives me his address.

"Do you know how to get here? Do you need more directions that that?" He asks, already considerate of how I may or may not be directionally challenged.

"No. I think I know how to get there." I lie. Flat-out, through my teeth lied. I have not the foggiest clue of where his house is or even less, how to get there. "So, I'll see you as soon as I get there!"

"Great. See you soon." Click.

I'm thinking to myself, I'll just look up a city map in the phonebook (this is before Mapquest, or at least before I knew how to access maps online--at this point in time it's like $1.99/minute to use the Internet. Hard to believe we actually paid for it by the minute.). I locate his street and the cross street he gave, so I'll just follow the streets across the city that look like they're the most direct routes.

WRONG!

I climb into my dirty car and try to traverse the city. I was so painfully naive. It was quite a lesson in city planning, for me, that afternoon. I had no idea how many streets dead-end and are one-way and not marked as such on the map in the phonebook. As I'm driving, and getting more and more lost (no cell phone, those days, either) the minutes are ticking by. I began to worry that he would think I blew him off, and that I wasn't going to show up because by this time it has nearly been an hour! The drive, he said, should be about 20 minutes. Oh, man, was I a wreck.

Finally, by the mercy of God (whom I didn't know, at that time, either) I made it to his house. He teased me good-naturedly about how long it took me to get there, but at least I'd arrived.

He told me how to drive half-way around the block to access the alley that led to his back-yard/driveway. That was quite a little adventure in and of itself. See, my car was a little Plymouth Colt (aka Mitsubishi Mirage) and at its stock sitting height it could conservatively be called a 'low-rider'. It was a small wonder how I managed to navigate my little car up the steep driveway that led into the alleyway without tearing a hole in the oil pan!

At any rate, I'd finally arrived at B.J.'s house, safe and sound, albeit 40 minutes later than originally anticipated. B.J. had all the accouterments needed to clean my car (in all actuality he wound up detailing my car for me) and he had me park myself on the edge of his porch while he went to work.

In retrospect, I can't believe what I chose to wear. On that 'first' date I showed up at his house with my hair in a ponytail, a pair of Nike's, black sweats, and a t-shirt that said "Fukengruven" (a la the old VW ads that utilized "Fahrvergnügen" in their campaign).

Doh!! (Clearly, I was not thinking)

B.J. was not the slightest bit daunted (or at least he didn't appear so). He cleaned my car, until it was its proverbial 'squeaky' self. And then he came and sat down on the porch next to me.

My heart must have been pounding at least loud enough for the surrounding zip-code to hear it. We made some small talk for a few minutes, but before it knew it he was scooting closer and closer to me. He was right next to me! Aak!

I kept thinking to myself, I really sort of like this guy. He seems so genuine and sweet and thoughtful.

That was when he leaned over and kissed me. Our first kiss was right there, that sunny sun-drenched March 9, 1996 afternoon, sitting on the edge of his porch, our legs dangling, with a view of my very shiny and newly clean little purple car. I'll tell you this much, electricity surged through his lips to mine. Not only was he a good kisser, but there was some instant chemistry.

Oh, yes, chemistry indeed...

Nikon-gone

D-50. Mucho mega pixels. Almost 3 photos per second.

And, I can't use any of it right now. That's right, I haven't had my baby (camera) for going on 2 weeks now.

Sigh.

I never realized just how much and how often I grabbed my camera before it went out of use. See, it's not lost or broken or anything dramatic like that (thank goodness!). It was well overdue for a general cleaning, and most unfortunately the shop that we bought it from has pulled out of our fair hamlet, so I had to drive the hour north to the bigger city to have it worked on.

I really miss it. I can hardly wait until we get that glorious call from the shop saying we can come and pick it up.

My fingers have been absolutely itching to be able to set my f-stops and aperture to capture the beautiful fall foliage that is directly outside my kitchen window (my Japanese maples are showing some to-die-for crimson and orange right now). But I can't.

Not yet anyway.

I hate waiting.

In pursuit of better diction

I read. A lot. (I bet you remember that) And, as I read I discover just how limited my understanding of language is.

Yes, I speak my mother tongue (English) fairly well (most days), and I speak Espanol (badly, most days). When we were over-seas I mumbled and stumbled through Francais and Deutch well enough to get around. But how much do I really know? Or understand?

The point of this meandering ramble through language(s) is that I'm always learning more and more. Take for instance this little tidbit:

In flagrante delicto.

Whos-its-whats-its-huh!?

That was what I was thinking the first few times I read it. So, being the geeky type that I am I had to immediately throw caution to to the wind and look its meaning (gotta love Wikipedia):

in flagrante delicto = Latin for "caught in the
act of committing an offense", caught red-handed, caught in the act; The Latin
term has come to be used far more often as a euphemism for a couple being
caught in the act of sexual intercourse;

Well. Now you've been learn-ed.

You'all can talk like a Cambridge scholar too (it sounds like I should add in: for ONLY 6 payments of $19.95, plus S+H...).

So, the next time you're hanging out at Chuck-e-cheese, you can drop this little kernel in your conversation (gossip) about the neighbor's, cousin's kid's best-friend's nephew.

Whew!

I just love new words and random arcana, like this new phrase. After all, you never know when Alex Trebek will call and tell you there's an opening on Jeopardy!

Cruising toward the end of an epoch

I just love Craig's List. It is like the eBay for weenies. Like me.

You know the people who pretend to be techno-savvy, but are really only mediocre at the computer stuff. The folks who would love to be able to be one of those eBay whizzes who sells snow to Eskimos online and makes a mint doing it? Yea. That's me. Craig's List is less hassle, less risk, and no credit card numbers involved. I can and do handle that. It lets me dabble in online sales, without all the commitment.

I sell random stuff on Craig's list. Probably the strangest thing I sold (in under 24 hours, mind you) was my old Amana Dryer. It worked as well as you'd expect a 10 year old used dryer to work. And, someone bought it *snaps fingers* just. like. that.

The most recent of my sales on the list was this: A three-sided 'Little Tykes' play structure.

Over the summer I watched my two babies play on/with it less and less. It was becoming clear that its usefulness and time at my doorstep was coming to an end. It was with mixed emotions that I posted it to Craig's List. A part of me was thrilled to have more room on my back porch, but another part of me didn't want the fun with it to end.

I remember when I found the little play structure, I was so thrilled! I had been coveting one of these structures for Peanut because it would be a lot of fun for her, and it would be easy enough that (given her physical limitations) she would be able to play on it and feel good about herself.

Peanut, and later Chubbers, had such fun playing on it. They both could climb, slide, and play under it in the 'fort'. It was just the right size. But, as I said, over the summer it became more and more clear its time was done.

So, it was with great sadness that I posted it on Craig's list. I half hoped it wouldn't sell. If it didn't sell, silly as it sounds, it was a way to keep a small vestige of 'babyhood' around. I've been slowly but surely getting rid of all my baby paraphernalia. The baby-car-seat: Gone. The changing table and glider rocker: gone. I have the crib disassembled and ready to be sold in the garage, but I'm dragging my feet.

I don't know why, but it seems so sad to let go of all these things. I posted it online about a month ago, and as of yesterday the play structure is gone.

It is the end of a period in our lives. I debate with myself, and B.J. whether or not we want a third baby. I know in Heaven I will have all three of my babies, one is already waiting for me. But here, on Earth, I wonder if we're done. Most days I know that we are; but then there are other days where I get this dull ache in my core that yearns for another of those sweet little bundles. I sometimes really miss that sweet milky breath, and rocking a tiny little love to sleep. Some days.

I feel like if I get rid of all of my baby stuff, it sort of seals the deal: we're done. Finito. Fin.

*sigh*

I am looking forward to the new stages we're about to enter: Kindergarten and (for Chub-chub) preschool. It just seems so strange to think: no more babies.

I wonder if all moms feel this way? Do you ever find that peace where you know in your heart and your mind "I'm done."? Some days I think I have that feeling, but then something happens--I see or smell or hear something that pulls on my heart strings and I'm lost, all over again.

Gimme a lift?

Soon enough, time came to pass that I was to run into B.J., again. This time we really had some time to chit-chat and get to begin to know one another. I instantly liked him, because he was fun and made me laugh. But, it was in a guy-friend sort of way. Not in a romantic-I-would-like-to-date-you sort of way.

He was unattached, and so was I. My friends, God love them, got to conspiring and decided that they needed to set me up with B.J.--forcefully. The decided we would be a perfect match.


Again, I wasn't looking for anyone at the time. I had never felt a need or desire to be with a guy at any one time in my (albeit brief) life. I was quite as content in life to be single and hang out with my girlfriends as I was if I had a guy to date. I really didn't care. I didn't think I'd ever want to get married, and I certainly did NOT want any children in the remotely foreseeable (as in up to age 40) future. I was just happy to be me. So, the fact that my friends wanted me to go out with this guy, wasn't exactly unappealing, but neither was it a priority.

It all shook out like this: I agreed, grudgingly, to go out with B.J. on the condition that we go to a party I'd been invited to and he take my girlfriends along --since they needed a ride. I know it wasn't even remotely nice of me to deal with him that way, but like I'd already said I was fairly self-centered at this point in my life.

B.J. picked my friends and I up, and we went to the party. It wound up being broken up sooner rather than later on account of some drunken fools who decided it was necessary to brawl. It was a bit of a drag, but so be it. B.J. drove us (what a sweet guy he was, to put up with 3 very drunk and very rowdy girls) home, and managed to drop me off last (pretty smooth move, on his part). As we were sitting in my driveway, at 3am, he and I started to talk. Now, when you're me, and slightly inebriated (or as this case was: totally plastered), you talk about the highly philosophical or the utterly mundane; my conversation that evening took a dramatic, ninety-degree turn straight into the mundane: how my car was dirty and needed washed.

Doh! (a la Homer Simpson)

Somehow, B.J. and I decided to meet up again. He gave me his phone number, and told me to call him the next day for directions to his house so that I could drive over and he could help me to make my car clean.

Our first 'official' date was set for the following Saturday afternoon: B.J. was going to wash my car.

The Second Encounter

After the first party, I didn't think about B.J. again. I had no reason to think about him. In fact, I was still with the guy from the party B. But, our paths were to cross very soon.



"Stranger than fiction" has always been a theme in my life, and in dating there were no exceptions.

B. and I had gone out on a few dates. As I said before, I was not looking for anyone at the time, and what did come my way certainly wasn't going to be for anything long-term. We had a good time, but I knew it wasn't 'the one', whatever that was supposed to mean. We were just enjoying one an other's company for the time being and it was just fine. I was barely 18 and B. was somewhere between 23-25 (I've forgotten over time) and he worked at a pizza parlor. Sad to say, but I knew he had no ambition in life and was just one of those folks who'd be happy to float along on life's current, wherever it would take him. Even at the tender age of 18 I was a 'hard driver' and high-strung; I knew I needed someone in my 'future' who wasn't entirely aimless. I'll be brutally honest: I was very self-centered and wasn't above dating guys for their cars or the good time I'd get to have with them (gosh, that sounds just as awful as it is; no way around that). I was with B. just to have fun.

Since 'fun' was on the agenda, it came to pass that he and I were asked if we wanted to go on a double date with this couple, C. and B.J. Yup, my B.J. We decided 'why not?' and so the date was set.

It is funny how some things work out. On that date C. and B. decided it would be a lot of fun to get 'messed up' on some illegal substances. At this point in my life I had started to 'wean' myself off of any sort of 'stuff' (if you catch my drift), as I was about to go to college and partying was getting old. In retrospect, it is hard to believe all the partying I did and the kind of partying my friends and I did. Just totally wrong, in every way, shape and form. I chalk it up to good experience nowadays, and I don't necessarily regret it, but sometimes I wonder how different my life would be if only I'd done things differently. But, that is another stream of posts all together. As usual, I'm off on a tangent.


Anyhow, B. J. and I had declined any stuff and that left us stranded in a living room together, without our respective dates. We talked for a while and enjoyed some laughs. Eventually we wound up leaving, separately, in our own cars.

At this point in time, I thought B.J. was a nice guy, and pretty up-right. Never had done drugs, and aside from his twenty-first birthday didn't drink--one bad hangover, his first, was enough to end that type of activity.

I was still not exactly interested, but it was quickly becoming clear that the dating that B. and I had enjoyed was soon to become past-tense.