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.