The Hatter's Clean Cup

Morgan's Thought On...

2012-02-17T11:54:00.002-05:00

...Planned Parenthood

Me: Uncle John had some big news today. Zoe, do you want to tell Morgan?

Morgan: DID BUTTERSCOTCH HAVE BABIES??? (Capital letters is the only way I can convey the amount of excitement that was exhibited for potential Welsh Giant Rabbit babies, which would probably cause Papa SidLeo to have kittens of his own considering said rabbit is located on his property.)

Me: Noooo.

Zoe: Uncle John is going to marry Barbi.

Morgan: Oh. That’s nice. (Not quite so exciting though…notice the lack of capital letters. ) So she’ll be Whitney’s mom and Aunt Jeanna will be her step-mom.

Me: Umm, no. Aunt Jeanna stays Whitney’s mom. Barbi will be her step mom.

Morgan: Well that’s good for Whitney, because she is a nice and pretty step mom.

So there you go.

...The Buddy System

Me: Remember to never leave your group today while you are on your field trip.

Morgan: We will probably get a buddy.

Me: Yes, you probably will, but that means you AND your buddy should not leave your group.

Morgan: Then I better find a buddy that’s trustable.

I will pause for Will-Ferrell-as-George-Bush laughter.

...More Puppy Love

(After Morgan tells me she can’t sit with her one friend at lunch, because she has to sit with her class)

Me: So who do you usually sit with then?

Morgan: Adam

This…from the “shy” girl. In my day, I just tossed the chocolate milk that my mother gave me a quarter to buy on Aaron Mahilo’s lunch table and hoped that he grabbed it before any of his friends did. It was all very nonchalant. But I was in fifth grade then, much more mature.

Raider Nation

2012-02-06T16:04:00.003-05:00

Most of my television viewing in these busy times is through my DVR. This being the case, I rarely watch a commercial these days. Which is a shame, because I’m actually a big fan of a well-thought-out ad campaign.

Back in the stone age, I had quite a fondness for Folger's though I never EVER drink coffee. I learned how to spell bologna from Oscar Meyer…I mean, who would have thought there was a “g” in there. And yes, I would like to be a Pepper, too.

I digress.

The Super Bowl is my chance to relive the glory days. If I don’t see a Budweiser Clydesdale commercial, I feel like a little bit of my soul is missing. And I don’t care what everyone else is saying…chimpanzees are still funny, damnit.

Yes, most of the commercials don’t live up to the hype and a few of them should probably ask for their money back…I’m sure Don Draper is rolling in his grave. But there are some gems out there and in all the hooplah of Super Bowl premieres, you might have missed my favorite one.

It was shown before even the National Anthem was played, but was not considered a Super Bowl commercial, because it actually premiered during the championship games a couple weeks back.

Reasons why it is my favorite commercial…

Minor celebrities embarrassing themselves. Enough said.

Football players singing. Again I will date myself when I say that I miss the days of the entire Chicago Bears or Oakland Raiders teams on a set of choir risers belting out some sweet lyrical genius.

Wind Beneath My Wings. If you are going to cover a song…go big. There is not a bigger “chick” song on the planet than “Wind Beneath My Wings”.

Jared Allen. #69 Defensive End for the Minnesota Vikings. Yes, I had to look that up. Disclaimer: I’m only pretty sure DE means Defensive End…I didn’t have time to perform due diligence. Watch to the very end and you will see why. It’s on par with a Sports Center commercial. NAILED IT!

NFL Commercial - Wind Beneath My Wings

Related, but completely switching gears…

H&M. That commercial reportedly cost 2 million pounds. I think that is like 5 million dollars, but again, my due diligence on this blog is for crap. I also don’t know if that includes what they paid for their actual Super Bowl spot, or if that was just production value. Go somewhere else for those facts.

Question:

This commercial was an advertisement for:

A $15 dollar pair of underwear.
A tattoo artist in slums of London
Soccer (or Football for my European readers)
Who the fuck cares…it’s David Beckham and he’s practically naked?

Puppy Love

2012-01-30T20:15:00.004-05:00

Morgan: So my friend Nina told Adam that I sort of had a crush on him and now I am bummed.

Me: Why are you "bummed"? (When did she become a teenager from The Valley?)

Morgan: Because now I am too embarrassed to talk to him ever again.

Me: Well, I don't think you need to be embarrassed.

Morgan: Mom, I'm done with it.

60 seconds later...

Morgan: Do you know why I like Adam?

Me: Why?

Morgan: Because he is nice and funny and kind and loving and sharing. (Oh yeah, she's got it bad.)

Me: Well, he sounds very nice. I think it's okay for you to still like him.

Morgan: And do you know why else I like him? When I ask him a question he talks back to me. Not in a mean way. I just mean that he answers my question. I think that is nice. But now I don't think he will answer me anymore.

Dear Morgan,

Boys suck. The ones you like, like someone else. In elementary school, it is probably the girl that punches them. In junior high, I regret to inform you it is the girl with the biggest boobs. In high school, it's whoever is the most popular. I suggest you stick with punching them until you turn 18.

The ones you don't like will most likely sneak attack you when you are at your locker and ask you to every dance ever created by the girls that actually get asked by the boys they like. I hope you can let them down easy by remembering what it is like on the other side, but if you do...he will still probably ask you for every slow dance and you will have to hide in a bathroom stall the majority of the time. Hiding in the bathroom stall will most likely prevent you from being asked to dance by the boy you DO like.

Unfortunately, you don't have an older brother that might have kind friends that take pity on you. On the bright side, this will not lead you to have completely hopeless crushes on football players that call you "Chuck's little sister."

With deepest sympathy,

Your Mother

Voted Most Likely to Remain Awkward

AKA "To a smart and funny girl"

P.S. If by some chance you are the popular girl. Please use your powers for good instead of evil.

Dirty Cups, Volume 429

2012-01-26T16:24:00.002-05:00

Background:

Scott has been taking a class at his bike shop that begins with spinning and ends with yoga. The first time he has ever done this.

On Sunday, I left the kids with my parents in the morning, because we had a barbaric corpse viewing later that afternoon (the opinions expressed in this blog belong to the author alone and do not reflect the opinions of other perfectly sane people.) Scott had gone into the office, so he sent me a text asking if I wanted to do some yoga before that.

Observations:

I may not have completely mastered the breathing technique, but Potter totally makes up for it. His Darth Vader impression is spot on.

Scott is more flexible than you would imagine.

It is really weird to do yoga in your house with one other person when that person isn’t a little kid that doesn’t know if you are doing something incorrectly.

Scott and I both have trouble knowing our left from right.

It may be a prerequisite for yoga instructors not to have any boobs.

When I fell down my steps last October, I really screwed up my ankle. How is one supposed to meditate if they can’t comfortably cross their legs?

Background:

There is a whole lot of opinion out there on how to raise confident girls that aren’t obsessed with body image. (Basically, don’t let them watch television or read magazines. Ever.) I don’t try to over analyze it too much, but the other day I read a blog that got me thinking about certain things that I say to Morgan and Zoe.

So now, when they model their outfits for me or show off the lipstick they smeared all over their face when I wasn’t looking, I have a pretty standard response. “You look very pretty. But what’s more important than being pretty?” I’m looking for something along the lines of “being a nice person.” Below are some select responses from Zoe in no particular order. Exclamation is hers.

Babies. (naturally)

SWIMMING!

Brushing your teeth. (shout out to Papa Turtle, DDS)

Rugs (wtf?)

Background:

We were thankful recipients of children’s theater tickets, due to poor little Ian being too sick to go. There were three short performances based on the books of Eric Carle (The Very Hungry Catepillar; Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What Do You See; and Papa, Can You Get Me the Moon – or something like that…I had never heard of it.)

I got halfway out the driveway and realized I had left the tickets on the dining room table. Upon finally finding a parking spot and walking halfway to the theater I realized I left the tickets sitting on the front seat of my car. Moral of this story: I am an idiot.

The announcements prior to the play noted that this was a “No Shhhh Production” and that the children were welcome to clap and laugh and shout out what was coming next.

Basically, most of the children immediately erupted in laughter just at the mere sight of the caterpillar. In several instances I felt this laughter might have been a little forced. Just laughing because they were told they could. Which I suppose is better than laughing just because they were told not to.

“I’m just trying to make a point, Frank. You don’t have to celebrate it.” – Beanie (Old School)

Zoe was not so easily led astray. She calmly sat through each story, sometimes leaning forward, sometimes resting her head on her hand in a pondering manner. She looked neither excited nor bored.

The eight-year-old kid behind me kept kicking my seat and making completely irrelevant comments. Most of you may think, “Surely, as a mom, you can understand that.”

But this is where I admit I rarely feel like putting up with my own kids annoying habits. Why the hell would I want to put up with yours?

Adult Truth #21

2012-01-17T16:49:00.002-05:00

Haven't done this in a while, but I felt the need to write and nothing was coming to me. Follow the Adult Truth label below to check out the others.

Adult Truth #21
Shirts get dirty. Underwear gets dirty. Pants? Pants never get dirty, and you can wear them forever.

I personally try to wear pants at least 10 times before washing them. I’ll admit one reason for this is that I don’t want to buy bigger pants and they fit better stretched out a bit. I have no shame.

If I didn’t have a slobbery dog, I could probably skip washing my work pants for about three months. I should note that I usually don’t notice the dried slobber until I actually get to work and have to spend the first ten minutes of my day in the restroom trying to blend it in.

A lot of times I fold Scott’s jeans up and put them back in the drawer without looking. Then, come the weekend, he points out that the hems are caked in mud or he spilled salsa down the front of them. I will refrain from pointing out the easy solution of putting them directly in the laundry instead of leaving them on the floor of the bedroom. (Oh, maybe I didn’t refrain.)

Unfortunately, this rule does not apply to my kids’ pants - mainly because my kids don’t wear pants. They wear leggings. Leggings are in the pant family, but share more DNA with underwear. Because if you put leggings on for even ten minutes they have to be washed before you can wear them again or you will have saggy, elephant knees.

I have made every attempt to get my kids to wear real pants, but the closest I’ve come is jeggings. They won’t even wear sweat pants (Rare case of “not my kids”).

I take this back…Zoe does have some stretchy pants that are neither leggings nor structured pants. I do not know how to categorize them. But considering she changes her clothes a minimum of four times a day (“Look, Mommy!”), this fact does not cut back on my dirty laundry.

Kryptonite

2012-01-10T20:28:00.002-05:00

It should come as no surprise that heating a century home is not always an efficient or consistent process.

You have the heating apparatus itself – a boiler the size of small tent city – taking up valuable real estate in your basement. To add to the annoyance, the real estate is in the dead center of the largest part of the basement – the part most people would convert to additional living space. The part where currently all toys go to die.

This does not take into account the pipes that weave their tapestry overhead, preventing us from having a ceiling that doesn’t resemble the inside of submarine. It should also be noted that on the exact opposite side of the basement is washer/dryer/hot water tank. Why someone felt the need to separate these compatible items is beyond my comprehension.

Next you have the heating conduits – massive radiators encased by even more massive covers – parked in what always seems the most inconvenient spot for furniture placement. To be fair, I’m not sure there is an actual convenient spot for a radiator.

If you’ve never had radiators, you may not know that occasionally (read: most of the time) when the cold condensation in the radiators caused when the thermostat is turned down hits the hot water caused when the thermostat is turned up it creates a sound not unlike someone pounding on the metal coils with a hammer. (Author’s Note: I’m not actually sure that’s what causes the hammering, but is sounds scientific and shit.)

Then there is the programmable thermostat set to turn the down at bedtime and up in the morning. If you remember back to my previous paragraph, you now know what my alarm clock sounds like in the winter.

Counteracting the phenomenal illustration of thermal comfort is the high-tech ventilation system that came with this piece of historical architecture…old windows.

Despite all of these things, our bedroom is usually pretty comfortable. Upstairs holds the evening’s heat pretty well, so we just throw an extra blanket on in the winter and are good to go.

But a couple weeks ago…right when heading back to work…I made a fatal error. I decided it was cold enough to throw the flannel sheets on.

The flannel sheets put us over the edge. It’s never good to be in complete comfort in your own bed. The bed becomes the den of sloth. It is a Bermuda triangle of warmth, weight and fluffiness. Two will enter, none will leave. Even Scott has missed some morning run wake up calls in the past two weeks, which is practically unheard of.

The sheets are kryptonite. We are powerless against them. The thought of taking them off my bed gives me the shakes.

Wardrobes Are Like Rabbit Holes

2012-01-06T11:18:00.001-05:00

Ever since we saw our cousin’s play, the girls have been obsessed with Narnia.

We had to watch the movie immediately…several times. They started pretending they were the Pevensie children on an adventure. And all Barbies got renamed to Susan and Lucy. Since we don’t have any Ken dolls for some reason, Peter and Edmund were stolen from the Fisher Price Little People households.

After the fourth viewing I said, “You know, there are two other movies that came after this one…” And thus I was off to the library in search of *sigh* Prince Caspian. While there, the friendly librarian pointed to the counter and showed me that someone had just returned The Voyage of the Dawn Treader so I took both home.

If we are not watching the Disney Channel in preparation for the Family Wizard Tournament in which we will finally know if Justin, Alex, or Max get to keep their powers (the girls want Alex, but frankly it would be irresponsible of Disney to give it to anyone but Justin); we are watching Narnia.

And after our next trip to the library, we are now reading Narnia (in publication order, thank you very much – none of this chronological BS that the publishers impose upon us). Both girls willingly head to bed earlier upon the promise of another chapter.

Morgan adores Peter. When Susan kisses Caspian at the end of the second movie, she giggles and tells me, “Susan should be with Peter and Lucy should be with Edmund.”

Hmmm…considering they are siblings, I’m pretty sure even West Virginia doesn’t go for that sort of thing.

Personally, I’m with Susan. Peter is kind of patronizing and bossy. Caspian is a much better adolescent literary crush, right along with Henry Huggins from the Ramona books. Then she can move on to the Sweet Valley High twins’ brother Steven (who turns out to be gay in the adult follow up installment – huh?). Then, if precedent is followed, she’ll make the huge leap to the classics and fall for Atticus Finch, Colonel Brandon, and Nick Carraway (not sure how he snuck in there with the old men).

All I need to do is keep her away from the cartoon Transformers so she doesn’t fall for a yellow punch buggy and insist if he was a real person he would be cute and want to marry her.

In case you’re wondering, I didn’t have many friends as a kid.

The Depression Otherwise Known as January

2012-01-03T22:14:00.004-05:00

I had thought that my first day back to work after my two week vacation would suck, but…it was more like changing explosive baby poo blow out diapers ALL DAY.

Nothing actually went wrong. It just wasn’t vacation. And it’s not like my vacation was a picnic. It just wasn’t work.

The worst part was waking Morgan up for school, which I knew – no matter how much I had prepped her the last couple of days – was going to feel like rubbing the aforementioned poo in my eyes.

6:30 AM I enter the lion’s den. Which really isn’t very much like a den, because they use up to four night lights and insist I keep the blinds open so the street lamp can shine in. (This would be the downside to my kids watching PG and PG-13 movies, but it’s really the only one.)

Morgan immediately lets out one of her long, droning groans. Then she says, “I’m just not a morning person.”

Oh, yes. She is my child. I refrain from informing her that if she lives to be 100 she has 94 more years of hating mornings. At least I only have 63.

Zoe, on the other hand, is Daddy’s girl and I’m pretty sure would happily go out on his 5:00 AM 10-mile runs – as long as he pushed her in her stroller, because she’s pretty damn lazy.

So after a few modified sun salutations…modified because the sun isn’t actually up at this god awful hour and because my kids do not understand that they can touch the floor without bending their knees…we were on our way.

Honestly, we did well. Mainly because I had anticipated all of this and packed lunches and book bags the night before. If only I could establish that habit for the entire year.

Highlight of my day was trying to explain to the financial analyst that will begin his rotation in my department on Monday what it is we actually do. Seriously…after five years…still don’t know. Yes…highlight!

So now I’m sitting back, watching a little Storage Wars and looking forward to crawling into the flannel sheets I finally put on the bed this week. I resolve to have a more positive blog post next time.

Christmas Threw Up In My House

2011-12-29T11:59:00.003-05:00

or "What Cheap-Ass Toy Company Doesn't Include Batteries?"

First of all...we had a great Christmas. Really glad Uncle Matt got to come back. Very thankful for the generosity of all our family. Of course we overindulged in delicious food and I have spent lengthy hours in my pajamas (currently still in them today). It doesn't get much better than that.

Highlights:

Not to brag, but we came home with a large, light-up gnome blow mold from the Cousin's Christmas gift exchange. Do I feel bad that we stole it from the family members that drove all the way from North Carolina to be there? Yes. Do I feel bad enough to give it up? No way!

Scott was one of the Santas for our PTA's "Santa Rings" program and visited four or five different families in their homes. (Possibly the skinniest Santa ever.) He had a blast and spent the rest of Christmas yelling "Ho! Ho! Ho!" at our kids to which Zoe always replied..."VERY FUNNY DADDY!"

Scott also decided to try his hand at my family's traditional German cookie recipe - lebkuchen. This recipe includes, but is not limited to, a pound of lard and a pound of brown sugar, sorghum, wine, whiskey (my grandma wrote "generous" in the notes next to the whiskey), and NINE CUPS of flour. He apparently did not hear my grandma tell him he would need to mix it by hand. This yielded over 10 dozen cookies and Scott's ability to put on a gun show with his arms (Ha! that last part I totally cracked myself up on.)

My quest for a "girl" skateboard was denied unless I wanted to spend over $100 or buy some dorky Disney Princess piece of crap (no offense to those who bought the pieces of crap). And yes, I was even out on Christmas Eve day looking.

For the third year in a row, I had a massive housekeeping fail. It is my dream to one year be able to leave for my parents on Christmas Eve knowing I will come back to clean house with made beds, an empty sink, and no towels on the bathroom floor. Maybe next year.

Morgan sings Deck the Halls and somehow always comes up with a line something along, "While we sing of Yuletide peril." I hear ya, sista!

Uncles John and Charlie didn't manage to break anything while attempting to fly Ben and Gabe's new RC helicopters (you know, the kind you see in the middle of the mall) inside Mom's dining room with wine glass obstacle course.

My Grandma FORGOT MY FAMILY. She passed out her annual cards/money to everyone but Scott, Anna, Morgan and Zoe. Maybe we should visit more. (Instead she handed me a wad of cash, which I promptly shoved in my bra, just like she taught me.)

Every year someone resorts to yelling at Gramy in order for her to hear. Unfortunately, she usually doesn't understand the yelling either. Probably her hearing aide doesn't pick up tones of frustration. This year it was Scott, while Justin and I stifled our laughter at the snack table.

"Do you hear that? It's a funny squeaking sound."
"You couldn't hear a dump truck drive through a nitroglycerin plant."

I made a blanket for Scott out of his pre-triathlete sweaters. (I journalled that odyssey, so look forward to the blog post.) And I sent his Ironman bib off to be made into coasters (thank you, etsy). He was not surprised by either of them. I suck at discretion. To be fair, though. I wrapped one of my own presents from him.

New additions to Zoe's orphanage...pooping baby (naturally), feeding/changing station, new clothes for Bitty Baby (including matching pjs for her), croc baby (notice the purple footwear), Criblife twins (princess and punk rock), winter Dora, crib/horse stroller with baby.

Yes, Virginia

2011-12-15T20:54:00.002-05:00

I was half-paying attention to Morgan this evening when she asked, "Is Santa Claus real?"

"What?" I said, while secretly thinking, "This cannot be happening, this cannot be happening?"

"Is Santa Claus real?"

"Of course he is."

"Can he talk?"

"Um, yes. Why wouldn't he be able to talk?"

"Because he's a dog?"

Now I am baffled and I finally look up at the TV..."Did you say Santa Claus or Santa Paws?"

"Santa Paws."

Yikes....close call. Thank god for talking Golden Retriever puppies. I would like her to be a little older so I can share my FAVORITE Christmas story with her. I will never be able to be half as eloquent - despite the funky punctuation.

Eight-year-old Virginia O'Hanlon wrote a letter to the editor of New York's Sun, and the quick response was printed as an unsigned editorial Sept. 21, 1897. The work of veteran newsman Francis Pharcellus Church has since become history's most reprinted newspaper editorial, appearing in part or whole in dozens of languages in books, movies, and other editorials, and on posters and stamps.

DEAR EDITOR: I am 8 years old.
Some of my little friends say there is no Santa Claus.
Papa says, 'If you see it in THE SUN it's so.'
Please tell me the truth; is there a Santa Claus?

VIRGINIA O'HANLON.
115 WEST NINETY-FIFTH STREET.

VIRGINIA, your little friends are wrong. They have been affected by the skepticism of a skeptical age. They do not believe except [what] they see. They think that nothing can be which is not comprehensible by their little minds. All minds, Virginia, whether they be men's or children's, are little. In this great universe of ours man is a mere insect, an ant, in his intellect, as compared with the boundless world about him, as measured by the intelligence capable of grasping the whole of truth and knowledge.

Yes, VIRGINIA, there is a Santa Claus. He exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy. Alas! how dreary would be the world if there were no Santa Claus. It would be as dreary as if there were no VIRGINIAS. There would be no childlike faith then, no poetry, no romance to make tolerable this existence. We should have no enjoyment, except in sense and sight. The eternal light with which childhood fills the world would be extinguished.

Not believe in Santa Claus! You might as well not believe in fairies! You might get your papa to hire men to watch in all the chimneys on Christmas Eve to catch Santa Claus, but even if they did not see Santa Claus coming down, what would that prove? Nobody sees Santa Claus, but that is no sign that there is no Santa Claus. The most real things in the world are those that neither children nor men can see. Did you ever see fairies dancing on the lawn? Of course not, but that's no proof that they are not there. Nobody can conceive or imagine all the wonders there are unseen and unseeable in the world.

You may tear apart the baby's rattle and see what makes the noise inside, but there is a veil covering the unseen world which not the strongest man, nor even the united strength of all the strongest men that ever lived, could tear apart. Only faith, fancy, poetry, love, romance, can push aside that curtain and view and picture the supernal beauty and glory beyond. Is it all real? Ah, VIRGINIA, in all this world there is nothing else real and abiding.

No Santa Claus! Thank God! he lives, and he lives forever. A thousand years from now, Virginia, nay, ten times ten thousand years from now, he will continue to make glad the heart of childhood.

Pursuing Excellence

2011-12-09T13:14:00.001-05:00

Oh boy, I’ve got a good one for you. Last month I was asked to take a leadership self-assessment for an internal women’s networking group where I work. This assessment was to be used to create a customized report on what I’m doing well and what I need to work on to become a better leader.

First, I knew something was fishy while completing the assessment and a couple red flag statements came up that pertained to personal hygiene/style (we had to answer Rarely/Sometimes/Almost Always).

“I’ve selected a hairstyle that is appropriate for my age and position.”

“I take care to wear accessories that compliment my clothing.”

“I don’t apply lipstick or comb my hair in public.”

And everyone in the professional world has heard this one…

“I dress for the job I want, not the job I have.”

For the record, the job I want would let me wear pajamas…is that acceptable? Also, is it okay if I just don’t apply lipstick of comb my hair period? If I knew a hairstyle that was appropriate for my age and position, I would wear it. I promise.

Despite my sarcasm, “looking the part” was actually what I scored the best in. I must have fudged some answers, considering today I am wearing an ankle-length corduroy skirt and argyle sweater with tall brown boots. I scored second highest in “how I think.” So apparently I have the appropriate mindset to become a leader, but where I scored the lowest was “playing the game” and “acting” on it – so I’m thinking it probably doesn’t matter so much what I think.

In other words, I’m perfectly happy to ride an elevator to the top where someone else pushed the buttons, but do not ask me to climb a ladder. It is not in my nature.

Some things I might be doing that prevent me from “acting” like a leader, according to this course: polling people before I make a decision (yes), needing to be liked (yes), not asking questions because I’m afraid of looking stupid (yes), avoiding conflict (yes), bringing food to the office (yes), helping too much (yes, damn me).

Some other pitfalls include: acting like a man rather than a professional woman (is this discriminating against cross-dressers?); telling the entire, unabridged truth about everything (is that a partial, abridged way of saying that I should lie?); sharing too much personal information (I can’t help it if my co-worker has a photogenic memory about my maiden name and license plate number. Yes, I know it’s photographic.)

Overall, I scored a 113. That would be pretty much in the middle. Not shocking. On Monday I get to spend a day learning more about what my report means. I’m pumped! Do you hear me, Bill? PUMPED!

How To Smoke a Sausage - Swigart Sister Style

2011-12-03T12:33:00.003-05:00

Background: My mom (Prissy - AKA Priscilla Kirschner) has three sisters Margie Wortz(Kansas), Charlie Wohlever (Ohio), and Becky Myers (Maryland). They are collective known as the Swigart Sisters in my blogs, but also refer to themselves as the PKs (preacher's kids). Yes, the Papa in THIS story is MY grandfather, a Lutheran minister.

Below is my Aunt Charlie's description of the sausage-making get together after she had been asked to consider doing it again. Thus proving my problems are hereditary. Also, AC's account makes it sound like this only happened once, but I could sworn it happened multiple times. Am I remembering the same event over and over again? Was it that traumatic? It also appears that the Myers and Wortz contigent weren't there? But I distinctly remember eating this stuff with them? I guess 300 pounds of sausage would last for multiple family reunions, though.

...The only difference is the amount of spices you want, mainly cayenne. By the way,I misspelled cayenne and the computer didn't know how to spell it either.

Of course we'd have to build another smokehouse [Mike (Wohlever)].

I have a VERY BASIC recipe,and you add whatever as you go along. It was Mama's job to stop us ever so often, take some of the mix, make a little patty, fry it up, and then tell us what to add. We dare not put too much of anything in at any time, 'cause you can't take it out!

We used 300# of coarsely ground pork shoulder in a brand new, never been used washtub from the hardware store and mixed it with our hands in brand new never been used super duper rubber gloves. Mark (Kirschner) was making obscene comments about the sounds we were making.

Then, of course, there were other opportunities for casual joking, such as during the filling of the casings by Papa, one hand on the crank and his other holding on to the ever increasing length of the sausage.

Prissy can vouch for me how much fun we had taking shifts in the bitter cold at the smoke pipe and small fire next to us,taking off our gloves in the below freezing weather to test the amount of heat going from the fire and up the pipe to the hanging sausages. [I don't know who hung them way up there, but you can be sure it wasn't Papa. Wohlever probably made Kirschner do it because,after all, he[Wohlever]had built the darn smokehouse!]

We girls, as I was saying, put our freezing little hands on the pipe. If it felt TOO cool [you do need cool smoke for the process] you plied your fingers from the cold pipe [ever lick a flag pole in the winter?] and added kindling to the fire till it was just warm enough. The next time you checked it [maybe 10 min later and after you had just thawed out that hand] the temperaturemight be too HOT, evidenced by the third degree burns on you hand, so you throw a little snow on the fire to bring down the temperature....of the pipe and your hand.

This routine goes on for about 8 hours/day for almost a week, till somebody, probably Papa, says it's time to bring them in and hang them in the garage for a while where they alternately freeze and thaw as part of the cursing process. I mean curing process.

The person actually doing that, probably Kirschner, because, after all, Wohlever BUILT the darn thing, had to make sure that they were spaced just so far apart in order to facilitate the best curing. Then the women, of course, after Kirschner had taken them all down following King Papa's declaration that 'All things are now ready" to wrap and freeze each sausage and salami, did just that.

A few of the precious sausages were left out,cooked with potatoes and devoured..All in all, it was a great week, blizzard and all, and I'd give anything to be able to do it again. I think though, that this time the boys get pipe attending duty. After all, they're retired. Love you all, C.

Roast Beast

2011-12-01T15:01:00.003-05:00

It’s less than two weeks till “Cousins Christmas”. Are you all prepared? Don’t know if you remember me mentioning that Scott cleaned the basement this past weekend, but our White Elephant potentials grew exponentially.

Also, Scott casually mentioned that I seem to be hoarding a certain item that I allegedly have enough of to distribute to every person in the family and now my wheels are turning. Be afraid. Be very afraid.

But before Uncle Mike offers to give us each a quarter for rubbing the bunion on his left foot, let’s take a moment to remember these other classic family moments.

BARN RAISING

Any time that the Myers and Wortz visited from out of state and were forced to help the Kirschners lay a foundation, frame a house, roof a house, pour concrete, brick a chimney, install indoor plumbing and/or electricity while eating off tables made out of scaffolding.

Male dress code: white undershirt and cut off jeans. Except for Papa Swigart, who would wear tan short pants with his fruit of the loom v-neck.

SMOKE THIS SAUSAGE

This is actually serious. There has never been any sausage in the world that has tasted like the sausage the aunties and uncles smoked in the Wohlever’s backyard and hung to dry in the basement/garage. Please, for the love of god and all that is decent and holy, BRING BACK THE SAUSAGE! Sausage sandwiches on pure white bread, no condiments necessary.

Dress code: plastic shower caps.

PARENTS OF MULTIPLES

Any time any sibling or cousin was forced to dress like each other. This ranged from matching butter yellow dresses on our one and only trip out to Kansas back in the late seventies to Papa’s funeral when we all threw on matching t-shirts from goodwill and constructed human pyramids.

Male dress code: Amherst Comet gear

Female dress code: California Raisin logo

THE ROLLER COAST

Family reunion at Cedar Point, where all the older cousins went in Uncle Mike’s Suburban – Charlie driving, Rachel co-pilot. Made Charlie laugh so hard he had to pull over on the side of the highway and pee himself.

Dress code: Fake wild west gear to take Red Garter Saloon photo.

I’D LIKE TO TEACH THE WORLD TO SING

If it happened or could have happened, it can be set to the tune of Good King Wenceslaus. Period.

“There was abuse in my family, but it was mostly of a musical nature.” – A Mighty Wind

Say Cheese

2011-11-28T11:34:00.000-05:00

Just a few notes of thanks for the last year.

To Grandparents (and Great Aunts and an occasional Uncle) who provide a steady stream of free babysitting – we could not do it without you. And to the step-nieces that get a small fee – you are well worth it.

To AT&T Uverse – it’s been a bumpy road this year. Thanks for the new receiver and router. I think we are finally set. P.S. Your hold times still blow.

To Morgan and Zoe who continue to be the standard by which I measure myself. Some days are epic fails, but thankfully the successes outnumber them – for now.

To HoHo who has not been the death of Potter – yet.

To new friends who have come into our lives at a time when I thought I was too old to make new friends – despite the fact that you occasionally show up in my blog and have seen what happens when I do shots, you’re still here. Phew!

To old friends who know things about me that are best kept to themselves – we may have less time together now, but there isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t wish I could see you.

To Suri’s Burn Book – just one of a few examples I can site of people who are meaner than me.

To Scott…earlier this month he came home and said, “Did you know they already have the Christmas music going on Sirius?” Guess what station has been on in his car almost every time I’ve gotten in? And when we had that really cold spell before this last warm one he said, “I suppose we better make room for the cat in the basement so I don’t get blamed for him dying.” Guess who cleaned the entire basement this weekend?

I’m thankful he is such a closet cheeseball, because I get a lot of allowances.

How to Cook a Turkey

2011-11-19T16:46:00.002-05:00

Morgan's first grade class was given the assignment to write directions for cooking a turkey.

The instructions also state they should include a list of ingredients, oven temperature and time; but clearly Morgan felt those things to be less than important. Obviously the ingredient is one turkey and a hot oven until it is done.

It is also clear that Morgan finds vowels optional.

1. The frst thing to shoot a trcey.
(Should I be worried that she was able to spell the word "shoot" correctly?)

2. then you rost a trcey
(I should warn those of you that have stumbled onto this blog because you actually want to know how to cook a turkey that there are actually several steps between 1 and 2, so maybe consult another source.)

3. then we tac it owt of the uvin
(That is how oven should be spelled. The English language makes no sense! Also, when I read the word owt, I wondered if the turkey got hurt by the tac.)

4. then we put it on the chray
(Chray makes total sense, as well. Ugh! No wonder our kids are illiterate.)

5. then we srv it to my famle.
(Just in case you were planning on using it as a decoration instead.)

Rock N Jock Revival

2011-11-15T16:58:00.002-05:00

So for those of you that tend to tune me out and therefore are unaware of the fact that I have obsessions other than The Hunger Games, I am campaigning to bring back MTV’s Rock N Jock softball game.

This new quest is a direct result of two things. My deep desire to find a cause I could absolutely stand behind one hundred percent…and three or more Kirschner Vodka Tumblers consumed while reliving the years 1989 – 1992 with D&G. (FYI - not Dolce & Gabana)

When I first announced this quest on facebook, November 8, 2011 (a day that will henceforth live in infamy), I had little to go on other than a vague inclination that it had been spoken of in a drunken stupor in September.

After I did a little more research…I still had little to go on. Because – apparently - there is next to no video footage available. The only articles I was able to find were outraged protests at the lack of video footage available. The best source I found was a blog written not more than two weeks prior to my facebook post on this very same subject. That’s a SIGN, people!

A sign that the time has come. I’m not satisfied with just getting my hands on the video replays. I want an honest to goodness softball game. And I want Bill Bellamy and Dan Cortese to coach. And I want Chris Connelly to give play-by-play. (Oh geez, I probably should have made sure these people aren’t dead yet.)

And you can bet your ass that I want the Jonas Brothers to take the outfield. (Yes, the point is that they are not quite relevant any more – remember the Nelson twins?) And I want Ty Burrell from Modern Family, because that would be some seriously funny shit. And that guy that plays Castle, because he shows up every where.

The real trick is definitely going to be finding some non-douchebag athletes. We may have to resort to women’s soccer and the WWE. I mean, we can always count on the snow boarders and BMX crew if we have to.

I have one rule.

There will be zero, nada, zilch, absolutely NO reality show anti-celebrities allowed on the field. Unless it is to get extra points or automatic home runs for beaning them in the head.

You guys think I’m joking. I will let you know when I have my all-star roster in place. And I will most certainly let you know when MTV calls me to produce the whole damn thing.

Feel free to sign your name in the comments if you agree with my campaign.

The Hunger Games Trailer or This Alice's Rabbit Hole

2011-11-14T15:57:00.005-05:00

Is it sad that I spent an inordinate amount of time reading reviews of a movie trailer? Yes. Is it going to stop me from giving a review of my own? No.

And while this is shamelessly stealing from what others have done…Top 5 moments of The Hunger Games trailer…in a very particular order.

Katniss volunteering to take her sister’s place in the reaping. I had the same gut-wrenching feeling I had in my stomach when I read it almost two years ago. But since Yvonne and I had locked ourselves in a conference room to watch it on her phone, I refrained from actually crying in front of her. That is THE scene that pulls you in. PERIOD. It is spot on and you can hear it in Jennifer Lawrence’s voice. I’m thrilled with that casting decision. Maybe we won’t have to see Kristen Stewart in so many movies now.

The brief glimpse of Haymitch giving Katniss instructions before she goes in front of the Gamemakers for the last time. For some reason people are complaining about how Woody Harrelson appears. I disagree. I could see that hint of Haymitch from Mockingjay that was hiding under the surface in The Hunger Games and I loved it.

Peeta and Katniss on the roof/Gale saying goodbye to Katniss after the reaping. Because there IS a love story here. Even if it is hidden under the death and tragedy of the Capitol.

Katniss looking back at Cinna right before she heads to the arena, because he is the ONLY person she has had complete faith in. She doesn’t trust Peeta or Haymitch at this point, and she knows this is going to be the last friend she sees. It’s like they are both wishing they could change their minds and not send her in. Also reminiscent of a scene to come in Catching Fire and I love me a little foreshadowing.

Wes Bentley and Donald Sutherland as Seneca Crane and President Snow. Two people who had absolutely no lines in The Hunger Games, but so crucial to the story. I had never even really thought of Seneca before, but now that I’ve seen him…that beard and the slick evilness of him…I hope he gets more screen time.

Sorry if you were hoping for another blog post about my magical life, but I had to take time out and pay homage. March 23 cannot come fast enough.

How to Kill a Dust Bunny

2011-11-07T13:38:00.002-05:00

Friday night I almost cried. It was right before bed and I absolutely could not breathe – even after resorting to a Breath Right strip.

Attractive? You betcha.

Fortunately, I realized that I had the strip too low and finally was able to get some relief when I put a different one on.

This has been going on and off for about a month. Plus, Scott and Zoe have this weird cough/cold and I swear Morgan’s nose runs like a faucet. She probably is the sole reason that her class needed all those boxes of tissues at the beginning of the year. (God, I hope she is using tissues.)

New Saturday plan. I needed to do some heavy duty cleaning. Not just run the vacuum and dust the tabletops. I’m talking a kick-ass Martha Stewart spring cleaning. In November.

Comforters and mattress pads hit the washing machines. Window panels and throw rugs were taken outside for a beat down. Dust bunny propagation put on hold. Lysol on everything that did not move.

I worked for a solid three hours on Saturday before taking a seven hour break to go to a birthday party (consisting of shopping for birthday gift, driving 45 minutes to party, stopping for dinner with Nana and Papa Sid/Leo, driving another 35 minutes home).

Then came back and was able to finish one bedroom. One. This was serious cleaning, people. We even flipped our mattress.

Good thing I would get an extra hour of sleep.

Yeah, right. Zoe had fallen asleep at 7 from all the excitement of the day, so she woke up before 6. I was back to cleaning the house by 7AM.

Worst part: ceiling fans.

Ceiling fans are on non-stop in our house. We have radiator heat and our air conditioning comes through the attic. Upstairs is sweltering in the winter and freezing in the summer. We are always trying to move the air down. You would think this constant movement would prevent build up.

You would be wrong.

If it is true that dust is made up of dead skin cells, then I may have been able to reconstruct a munchkin from the Wizard of Oz.

So…we are now allergen free…upstairs.

I still had to put a Breath Right strip on last night and today I stole a box of Kleenex from a co-worker who just left on maternity leave. I’ll replace it before you get back, Kelly.

You know what will really piss me off though. If Morgan comes home with lice this week – seven confirmed cases at her school. That will make me bat-shit crazy.

I’d also like to tell you how much else I got accomplished this weekend, but then I’d want to punch myself.

The Walrus and Carpenter

2011-11-03T14:55:00.003-04:00

Author's note: If you have ever seen the Disney version of Alice and know who I mean by the Walrus, you have a pretty good picture of the following individual.

Every work day I arrive at my parking garage around the same time as another gentleman. The very fact that I notice this person in the wee hours of the morning (anything before 10 AM), should provide some foreshadowing that there is something peculiar about him.

Typically, he has already backed his utilitarian van (somewhere between standard and mini, non-metallic gray, box-like) into the space directly across from the elevator.

Here he waits while he finishes his cigar. Every day. He smokes an entire cigar by 8:30 in the morning. Every day. I can literally breathe in the secondhand smoke, and we’re parked in an open garage by the Q.

I actually used to not mind when my dad would smoke cigars outside while working on one of the tractors – to keep the bugs away, he said – but I’ve changed my mind.

It may surprise you to know that this man is not otherwise the picture of perfect health.

He is about 200 pounds overweight, walks with a hitch in his step, and can almost always be counted on to hack up a lung in the short walk to the elevator which he insists you hold for him if he has started to open the door to his hot rod.

In a perfect world, the elevator could make it down and back up in the amount of time that it takes him to walk from the van. Of course, this is Cleveland so the elevator actually takes considerably longer than that.

He will not thank you for holding the elevator, but will allow you to wallow in his cigar perfume for the ride.

I now take the stairs.

Curtsy While You're Thinking. It Saves Time.

2011-11-01T12:15:00.002-04:00

SIDEBAR

The best part of waking up at three in the morning because your little one needs a drink is realizing that you still have three more hours to sleep. The worst part? WAKING UP AT THREE IN THE MORNING!

REGULARLY SCHEDULED PROGRAMMING

I feel like the month of November should be relaxing. I will be taking down the Halloween decorations today. I’m not in charge of anything pertaining to Thanksgiving other than showing up. I only have the following obligations:

Taking the girls to see The Wizard of Oz play.

2 ECPTA field trips with Zoe (including a tour of Heinen’s – so she can show everyone where the bathroom is – and a tour of Chick Fil A – her FAVORITE place to eat! Holla!)

ECPTA General Meeting, ECPTA Board Meeting, ECPTA State of the Homes Tour Meeting, ECPTA Girls Night, PTA Scholarship Auction, ECPTA Adult Outing Beer Tasting.

Oh and I also have to volunteer for the no-fun PTA (elementary school) at the Book Fair.

And then there is a Relay for Life Captains/Committee meeting. Which I’m only attending because I’m the co-captain of the ECPTA’s team.

Yeah…written out like that, my life is very sad.

Also, I must take the girls to see The Muppet Movie. I totally screwed Morgan over on A Dolphin Tale, because we knew Zoe couldn’t sit through it.

SEEN AND HEARD

In the car

Zoe: Do we have robots in our tummies for when our brains don’t work?

Mommy: I wish.

On my facebook wall

Michelle: I totally just headbutted you but...Tim [our cab driver] is wearing stretch pants!!!!

(I promise, we were drunk, but that might be my favorite quote ever!)

Zoe had a bad cold and wasn’t quite up to trick-or-treating

Morgan: I promise you can have some of my candy, Zoe.

(Not sure I will ever hear something like that again, so it needs to be recorded for posterity.)

Mirror, Mirror

2011-10-25T11:33:00.002-04:00

I debated writing this until I watched Grimm on Friday, but what the hell…

I’m not sure why the big and small screens have suddenly found their way into my backyard, but I’m not complaining. Yet. Welcome to my world.

Yes, I want to live in a fairy tale. A dark and twisted fairy tale. Preferably one with tuff (Outsiders’ spelling) princesses and slightly flawed princes that happen to be either ruggedly good-looking or boyishly charming. Take your pick.

The rest you of may not have noticed yet how popular the brothers Grimm have been getting. It must be a sad, lonely place out there for you.

I tried re-capping Once Upon a Time about FIVE times, but I can’t do it. I’m not a re-capper. Visit Entertainment Weekly or something.

I like it. It’s not too sunny, but my girls still liked it, if only because they loved Snow White and the little boy Henry who is the only one that has figured out the curse. Also, they were intrigued by the Evil Queen and Rumplestilskin without being completely afraid of them at this time. (There may have been some eye-closing when the queen’s black knights came to steal the baby.)

The fantasy-world is in between HBO and SyFy quality, which I think is pretty impressive for network to invest in. The creators say that it’s going to focus on more than the Snow/Charming story, and as Henry flipped through his fairy tale book, I did notice a picture of a certain caterpillar sitting on a mushroom. I can only hope, but I do know that we will at least meet Cinderella fairly soon.

Favorite supporting characters thus far are Red Riding Hood and the sherriff, only because in my head I think he is the huntsman and should be Emma’s side kick. (Emma being Snow White’s grown up child in the real world that is going to save them all.)

On a way darker side…Grimm starts on Friday, which proposes the original brothers and their descendants hunt down mythical baddies hiding in our world that only they can see. Girls will not be watching this one, but I’m practically salivating because it’s from teams Buffy and Angel. As Zoe would say…”HOLLLA!” (Yes, we watch too much Shake It Up.)

In 2012, there are going to be TWO…not one, TWO…Snow White movies.

The first one is still showing up on IMDB as the “Untitled Snow White Project”. Considering this movie is in post-production, don’t you think it’s about time SOMEBODY came up with a title for it?

It’s going to win someone a wardrobe Oscar, but I’m not sure about anything else. It’s very over the top with the gowns. Apparently, Julia Roberts (as the queen) can’t even take a couple steps in some of the get ups they put her in. Visually very appealing in the stills I have seen.

On the other hand, Snow White and The Huntsman…

I’ve been keeping my eye on this one for a LONG time. First off, it was originally just named The Huntsman and had Chris Helmsworth (Thor) in the title role. Reason alone for me to keep my eye on it. Or both of them.

Basically, when he takes Snow to the forest, instead of just leaving her to find the dwarves he becomes her mentor and teaches her how to be some kind of medieval warrior to come back and kick the queen’s ass.

Here’s the flaw with this movie, and it’s a damn big flaw if you ask me. Kristin Stewart is Snow White. UGHHHHH! I don’t know if her Twilight fame is what got them to change the title of this movie, but I DO NOT approve. Do you hear me, Stewart? Acting requires you to become a different character, not make all your characters act like you.

I would much rather she swap with the newcomer Lily Collins who plays the Snow White in the Julia Robert’s one.

In non-Snow White news…

I got a new version of parental anxiety when Morgan asked me if I thought her Halloween costume was weird. Apparently, at a party she went to, some kids kept asking her why she was a crayon and chased her because they wanted to write with her. Oy.

One, I honestly don’t think the kids were being mean, I think they thought they were being funny. Two, Morgan is uber-sensitive.

But it was all I could do to resist my urge to crack some skulls. I am not very over-protective when it comes to physical activity, but my mind starts kicking it into high-gear if I think someone or something is making my kids feel bad about themselves.

I have a feeling Scott is the same way, since his first reaction on my relaying this story is to say that he will go buy her a new costume if she wants one. Which I get, but she LIKES her costume. She didn’t think it was weird until someone questioned her and quite frankly it’s NOT weird. It’s a fucking crayon.

So I take a breath and say, “Next time someone asks why you are a crayon, just ask them why they are a princess or a pirate or whatever they are. I like your costume.” This seemed to satisfy her.

I will now be attending the school’s Halloween parade, which I was going to skip. I just absolutely cannot NOT be there. Wrong?

The Greatest Show On Earth

2011-10-19T10:47:00.003-04:00

Author’s Note: I started this yesterday…then I did the thing I never do. I watched news. Ugh. I tell you what. If I just watched the news I would have something to blog about every day.

I missed the elephants AGAIN. Every October, I tell myself I am going to get downtown in time to watch them walk from the train station to the arena. And every year, I forget.

As I got back to the parking garage, there stood the big Ringling Brothers trucks. There was even a whiff of elephant in the air. But nope, while the pachyderms were marching, I was interviewing smarty-pants accounting majors for internship positions.

I mean…who needs to finish a double major in Accounting and Economics in three years while on an athletic scholarship for Division 1 football? That’s just plain showing off and I won’t stand for it!

Plus, get your butt over to a Big Four and rake in the big bucks! At least until you want to jump out a 20^th story window. You could be auditing the circus. I mean someone has to count the inventory, right? Although, is an elephant considered a fixed asset?

Please hold while I determine if Ringling Brothers is a publicly traded company…nope. Okay, so that idea won’t work.

Political Apathy

I have been apathetic ever since I graduated with a Political Science degree. Why? Mainly because I came to the realization that a two-party system can’t get anything done that will actually benefit real people like me.

So what possessed me to watch the Republican debate last night? It could be the love-hate relationship that Scott and I have with Anderson Cooper. I love him, he hates him. I don’t know. But I got sucked in by the Sarah Palin look-a-like and the bickering and Cain’s ability to let the 9-9-9 plan attacks roll right off him.

Hey…this might be why I became a Political Science major in the first place.

They are all idiots in varying degrees, of course. Who else would subject themselves to that kind of public stoning? Might be my new obsession, but I promise not to blog about it.

Mom Salary

Apparently there is a mom that is trying to get something in the works that makes husbands give 10% of their salary to their SAHM wives as payment for their services.

Huh? I’m not saying that being a mom isn’t work. But don’t you already share ALL of your husband’s salary? How else would you have food, clothing and shelter? So is the 10% for discretionary spending on yourself? If so, does he get 10% discretionary spending on himself? I just don’t get it.

Scott and I both work outside the home, but I don’t keep my salary separate from his. It all goes in one place. How is being a stay at home mom different? Feel free to comment, ladies. I know you are reading this.

Exotic Pets

Don’t do it! That’s all I have to say about that.

The Moss Man

Oh, local news. The Moss Man was multi-tasking this morning - preparing some stir-fry while giving his movie review. This morning was a review of The Three Musketeers based on the book by Alexander Dumas.

Dumas. It’s French by the way. And therefore not pronounced Doom-ahz. The “s” is silent, Dumb Ass.

Also, he made sure to note that it is actually about four musketeers. Um…no, David. D’Artagnan WANTS to be a musketeer. He is not. So it really is about THREE musketeers. I promise. They aren’t doing fuzzy math.

I want to note that I have never read The Three Musketeers. But I am literate enough to understand the story, and even if I wasn’t, it just proves he didn’t actually watch the movie.

Bitch is Back

2011-10-14T09:10:00.005-04:00

ROLE MODELS

Far be it from to tell people what to do with their lives…however…if you are the adult monitoring the school bus stop outside the apartment building, do you think…just maybe…you could handle not smoking your cigarette for FIFTEEN MINUTES. Set an example, dude!

ADULT TRUTH #2
Nothing sucks more than that moment during an argument when you realize you're wrong.

Take, for instance, the PTA General Meeting. The one flipping thing I’m in charge of as Vice President. (At this point I am apologizing to anyone related to or friends with my nemesis…it’s just…well, it’s just me.)
Arrive at the elementary school and it is locked - custodian MIA. When we are finally able to catch his attention through another doorway, he saunters over and accuses us of being twenty minutes early.

Me: No, I asked for 6:30.
Him: No, your form said 7:00.
Me: (and yes, I should have shut up at that point) No, it said 6:30.

At this point I am of course thinking that I might of possibly wrote the wrong time…not on the reservation…but on the form I faxed over with the set-up diagram.

At this point he is probably thinking, “Suck it, bitch!”

Then we ask for our normal table in the hallway for people to pick up name tags and sign in. He points to a smaller table that he set up over by the fish tank “like my diagram said” and “why didn’t I say I just wanted the same set up as before.”

Me: I faxed the same form with the same set up that we used last year. I didn’t change anything.
Him: Well, you should have just told me that you wanted it the same and skipped the picture, because I put it like the picture.
Me: *defiant stare*

Seriously? I used the same god damn picture! That I know for an absolute fact. Or did I somehow change the picture when I copied it onto the new sheet?

I hate that feeling.

Until I go home and look at my form that clearly says 6:30 and looks the exact same as last year’s form. HA! You suck it, Mr. Custodian! I was right and I hope you went back and looked at my form to see how right I was, because it really gets me a teeny tiny bit worked up when people tell me I am wrong when I am most definitely always right!

P.S. We really appreciate that you set the chairs and tables up for us and let the babysitters use the equipment closet in the gym to keep the kids occupied.

DVR CHECK UP

So can you believe that 2 Broke Girls has the highest ratings of the new series that have premiered (according to “Entertainment Weekly”)? Who is watching this piece of crap? The 2 girls both appear to be reading cue cards a la Saturday Night Live - which is fine for a sketch comedy, but not a sitcom. Kat Dennings’ signature sarcastic delivery is apparently just masking the fact that she simply cannot act.

And Free Agents got cancelled after three episodes. There is no justice in this world.

One Act Play by Morgan N.

2011-10-09T12:54:00.002-04:00

Overheard at the Fisher Price Little People barn this weekend:

Meddling Neighbor: Hello, there. Why are you keeping your baby in a stall?
New Age Mother/Organic Free Range Chicken Farmer: Oh, he keeps that stall very clean. There are never any spiders in it. So it is perfectly fine for him.

(I cannot make this shit up.)

This is how I imagine the scenario playing out.

The close-minded, interfering neighbor (somewhat resembling a goat) immediately calls children's services who arrive a few hours later. Despite the obvious fact that the stall is diligently kept free from any household pests, including the most horrid of arachnids, the infant is immediately seized and placed into protective custody.

The single mother does not have the financial wherewithal to hire legal representation, so the court assigns her case to a lackluster attorney, currently under a community service arrangement to prevent himself from being disbarred. He shows up to the hearing wearing beach gear and carrying a bunny.

The mother makes a desperate attempt to explain how her communal living arrangement with all creatures great and small would be a benefit to any child, teaching circle of life; reduce, reuse, recycle; and the advantages of compost. However, the state prosecutor enters Exhibit A - a picture of the infant covered in mud, holding an ax over the head of free range chicken.

The child is placed in foster care and later becomes entrenched in the punk scene. He spends all the money he makes from selling drugs to provide further detail to his full-body tattoo of a spiderweb.

The farm and mother fall into disrepair. Eventually, she is seen eating from the pig trough and the rest of the farm animals have to clean up after her.

The neighbor is eventually found decomposing in an empty grain silo. She appeared to have her eyes pecked out by chickens.

Show Me That Smile Again

2011-10-01T09:46:00.007-04:00

Speaking of Top 5, I hear that Rolling Stone put out a list of the best TV Theme Songs.

10. "The Golden Girls"
9. "Sanford and Son"
8. "Miami Vice"
7. "That 70's Show"
6. "The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air"
5. "The Sopranos"
4. "Friends"
3. "M*A*S*H"
2. "Hawaii Five-O"
1. "Cheers"

And while I do have all sorts of love for the majority of their list, I have to say Sandford and Son? Come on...does it immediately bring up images of looking through a dusty pick up truck window at the streets of despair? Yes. Best TV Theme Song? Please.

Now, anyone who ever watched the show The List, knows there is no definitive answer to the top "whatever" question. And I don't particularly like my lists to be so general, because how could I rate an instrumental theme song against a catchy jingle sung by Alan Thicke? Also, by separating them I can pick more.

(Note: Obviously, my list is going to be from shows that I actually watched.)

One Rule. The song can't be an actual song on the radio, that's cheating. As much as I love the Friends opening credits, it is immediately disqualified, because it was on a Rembrants CD before it was the theme song. Actually, it pretty much disqualifies every show after 1990, because TV producers started getting lazy. On a side note, the award for the best ability to pick a good song definitely goes to HBO. Sopranos was mentioned above, but I think Jane's Addition's "Superhero" for Entourage and Chris Issak's "Bad Thing" for True Blood are more kick ass.

My top 10 Instrumentals

10. Magnum PI (I'll credit Scott for letting this slide into the number 10 spot when he mentioned it. I love me a mustached private investigator with a penchant for Hawaiin shirts.)
9. Deadwood (This might not be the most well known of HBO theme songs, but I rarely fast forwarded through it, I loved it so much.)
8. Taxi (AKA "Angela's Theme" - who knew that tasty bit of Trivia?)
7. Mad Men (Have been watching this on Netflix and I cannot get over how much I love this tune.)
6. Wings (Bet you can't actually hear it in your head right now, but Google it. Fabulous. And a highly under-rated show.)
5. Beverly Hills 90210 (Strictly for the Jason Priestly fist-punching action. Da-da-da-da Da-da-da-da Chh-Chh.)
4. Buffy the Vampire Slayer (Makes me want to go out and kick some vampire ass.)
3. The Office (Always brings a smile to my face and reminds me of my friends at Ernst & Young on the Goodyear engagement.)
2. The A-Team (Come on, how can you not hum along? And they are soldiers of fortune!)
1. M*A*S*H (This fun ditty is actually called "Suicide is Painless" and does have words if you buy the piano sheet music.)

Honest to god, I tried to think of any theme song that has occurred in the last two decades that doesn't break my rule and with one exception (which I actually thought was an 80's show anyway) I could not do it. I even Googled a list of TV shows to jog my memory and the only thing it brought to mind was Mad About You (good, but not Top 10 material). Which only goes to show that the 70's and 80's were indeed the best decades of all times.

10. Alice (I'm not exactly sure what it is about this song that makes it onto my list, but it bumped out Family Ties just barely.)
9. Saved by the Bell (my concession to the 90s that I thought was 80s)
8. Facts of Life (I had a tough time choosing between this and its predecessor Different Strokes, but in the end I had to stick with my girls.)
7. Dukes of Hazard (I looked and it appears Waylon did this song for the show, so the good ole boys don't break my rule)
6. Silver Spoons (Nothing to do with the song, but I'm pretty sure Ricky's biological mom (not Kate) was eventually Steve Sanders mom on 90210, for those keeping up with my recent binge of my favorite zip code trivia.)
5. Welcome Back, Kotter (This was so 70's there should be a law against it.)
4. Laverne & Shirley (If you do not know this song, you should be shot.)
3. Mary Tyler Moore Show (Who can turn the world on with a smile? Come on. That's pure gold.)
2. Charles in Charge (This is the 80's theme song answer to Welcome Back, Kotter. I want Charles in charge of me, damnit!)
1. WKRP in Cincinnati (Not convinced? It's a SONG about a RADIO STATION! And at the end it gives the radio station's call sign. Get it...it's like its own commercial. So many levels. I can't even begin to unravel it's simple complexity.)

Baby, if you ever wondered,
Wondered whatever became of me.
I'm living on the air in Cincinnati -
Cincinnati WKRP.
Got kind of tired of packing and unpacking.
Town to town, up and down the dial.
Baby, you and me were never meant to be.
Just maybe think of me once and awhile.
I'm at W K R P in Cincinnati.

Editor's Note: I was going to embed all the videos, but that crashed my blog. Then I was going to link to the videos, but that crashed my blog. So you'll have to YouTube them yourselves, but it's worth it. And maybe I will post some of them to facebook, because rainy days are the best for YouTube.

Bonus Points if you know the show whose theme song is the title of this blog post.

Adult Truth #10

2011-09-27T19:54:00.002-04:00

Adult Truth #10 Bad decisions make good stories.

My Top 5 Bad Decisions (Chronologically)

Panama City, Spring Break 1994

One hotel room, two beds, seven girls, 6 million roaches. Yes, we always kept the light on. Yes, there was a night when I slept on a lounge chair by the pool. Yes, a police officer asked me if I was okay.
Note to self: Shell out the big bucks for Morgan and Zoe to go somewhere cool like the Sedona Valley or Vail where there will be less fraternity boys and/or roaches.

Road Trip, Fall 1994

Mom: So what did you do this weekend?
Me: Joni and I borrowed Kristen’s boyfriend’s car, left Miami Friday after class, got to Mississippi State Saturday morning, went “mudding” with Joni’s boyfriend’s fraternity brothers, attended a keg party, woke up Sunday and drove back to Miami.
Mom: Why?
Me: We had never been “mudding” before.
Note to self: When you start seeing things on the Nachez Trace at 3 am in the morning, it’s time to pull over and go to sleep.

Put-N-Bay 1997

Items lost: Scott, Scott’s clothes, Scott’s wallet, Scott’s keys.
Items found: All of the above.
Location of items found: Scott wandered into the campsite on his own, everything else was found the next day on the ground by a row boat.
Note to self: You cannot ride a bicycle when you are too drunk to stand up straight.

Hookaville, Anytime, Anywhere

Most notably, the year Willie Nelson headlined. It rained the entire weekend. This would be the second time I got to go mudding.
Note to self: Do not park in a low-lying field during a 48-hour torrential downpour.

N’SYNC Celebrity Tour 2002

May or may not have spilled beer on the minors in front of us. Temporary deafness brought to you by the thousands of screaming teenagers that may or may not have been dressed like nickel whores. Blurry photos that may or may not have been caused by intoxication of the photographer.
Note to self: Be aware of your age and go on the NKOTB cruise instead.

Fall Down the Hole

2011-09-23T11:50:00.002-04:00

Fall is my favorite time of year. First, because of the weather (although we could cool it on the rain now). Second, because the smell always makes me feel young. Or at least younger.

The only sadness I feel when changing out my closet from all the shorts I never wore (because I hate shorts) for jeans and sweaters is when I lovingly place my flip flops (nine pairs) farther back on the shoe rack. Except my Puma's. My Puma's are all weather flip flops. Don't touch my Puma's.

On the other hand, I'm finally going to purchase Hunters to replace my wellies that bit the dust last season. Important decision: Robin's Egg Blue, or Butter Yellow? If I'm going to invest in Hunters, I cannot afford to make a mistake in this department.

This also means my super comfy, if not totally flattering, thick gray sweater is coming out of summer hibernation. I apologize to the village of Bay for how often you will see me in it. I mean I'm REALLY sorry...not sorry enough not to wear it.

But the majority of my Swan's Way moments occur in the fall...do you people know Proust's Swan's Way? I think I mention it a lot, but this is because it is Scott's and my inside joke from a Literature course we took together in the The College Years. It's (IMO) the most horrible book ever written that one is forced to read in a Literature class. The entire first chapter is about macaroons. Okay, it's actually about how smells hold the most vivid memories for people, which I get, but I don't need an entire chapter on macaroons to drive it home. P.S. Guess who didn't think it was the most horrible book ever written? Our professor.

I digress. Shocking!

Like the other day, someone was burning leaves despite being against city ordinances. This is not the most pleasant smell in the world, but I kind of like it anyway. Much like the smell of horse manure is a little slice of heaven for me. Burning leaves is definitely NOT against city ordinances where I come from, which is definitely NOT a city. Burning leaves make me think of high school football games. High school football games make me think of parking cars back in the fields with Matt Rossini.

Not "parking" in cars. Parking cars. As in, we didn't have lines in our gravel parking lot and had to also use the neighboring field, which required National Honor Society students (because, frankly, who else would agree to this) to wave their hands around and instruct all the rednecks how to park straight and pack it in. (And I say redneck very lovingly here).

It also makes me think of catching leaves blowing from the tree line with my little brother. Seriously, hours of entertainment.. Until Charlie and BJ showed up and started pelting us with acorns, that is. Then we would play some semblance of football that mostly involved us saying "Hut, Hut" and the dog going crazy tackling us before we could say "Hike." (Are those even the right words?)

Later it meant deciding whether to wear a coat or tough it out on the Slant Walk between South Quad and Uptown; pulling 50 plus manes to get our nags and ponies ready to host a regional horse show where we would kick OSU and Lake Erie's butts because they didn't know how to ride our reject school horses (I pity the fool that drew Boomer or Rusty); and shivering around a keg on the front porch of Pour House (who doesn't name their house?) or a U Commons balcony because we were never ready to move the parties indoors.

I took Zoe on an apple picking field trip this Wednesday out in the ol' Firelands. We pulled in to my parent's afterwards and I swear my dad could have been Grandpa "HB" Kirschner. But not because he looked old. I was suddenly remembering my grandpa from when I was a toddler in his flannel shirts, smoking a pipe while he putzed around in the woods. He would have a fire in the wood burner in the barn and we would watch the dogs run back in forth in their kennel (first Lady and later Jake). If we were lucky (and we usually were where Grandpa was concerned) he'd fire up the minibike and give us a ride. It should be noted that I was probably wearing a hand-me-down navy blue coat with fur around the hood from cousin Rachel/Katie.

My dad has inherited two main things. One of which is not dark and wavy hair. The first is grandpa's hands. I noticed this when he set about getting crumbs off the breakfast table on Sunday. Very Beaches. But more prominently, my dad has inherited my grandfather's three speeds: Sunday Putzing, Putzing, and Quick Putzing. The last of which is only used when he still has to clean up his latest home improvement project before people come over or getting a dead cat out of the barn before the girls find it.

Coming soon...the craziness of the Halloween season. Yes, it is no longer a day. It is a season.

Sophie's Choice and Almost Famous

2011-09-19T19:53:00.005-04:00

Spohie’s Choice

I’ve actually never seen the movie, so I’m not entirely sure what choice they are referring to, but imagine if you will…(Editor's note: As I'm posting this, Sophie's Choice came on the TV, how weird is that? FYI - About sending kids to concentration camps.)

A young mother in a war-torn middle eastern country is told by her embassy that she must be evacuated to a nearby peaceful area, but she can only take one of her two young children with her. The other child must stay under the watch of the heavily guarded and super-qualified embassy staff. But still, someone could bomb the embassy at any time, right?

Me: Meredith’s mom is picking you up at school to take you for ice cream with your Daisy troop tomorrow.
Morgan: Yay!
Me: Then she’s going to bring you back to their house to play until I get home from work.
Morgan: (pause) What about Pooh Bear Blanket and Beluga? Where will they be?
Me: At home, I guess, since you won’t go to Thea’s after school. (She usually takes them to Thea’s and dumps them in the hallway before catching the bus and picks them up again when it is time for us to go home.)
Morgan: (tears starting to form) But…but…
Me: Morgan, you don’t have them all day at school, and you don’t even play with them at Thea’s, so this is no different.
Morgan: But couldn’t I take them in my backpack just this once?
Me: They won’t both fit in your backpack. I guess you can take one.
Morgan: (gasp) But which one?
Me: I don’t care. (Because I just can’t get past the fact that she DOESN'T PLAY WITH THEM!)

In the morning Morgan quietly gets dressed and asks me again through many tears if she can’t somehow take both of them. To which I become mean Mommy and tell her that I’m not going to let her take either of them outside the house ever again if she doesn’t get over it.

Well, actually, I think I was pretty reasonable. I told her it was okay that she was sad, but she had until we left the house to calm down and stop worrying about it. She decides that Beluga will make the trip in her backpack.

I continue to get us ready to go and come downstairs to find Zoe standing with Pooh Bear Blanket lovingly clutched in her arms. Morgan is smiling.

Morgan: (in her Little Miss Innocent voice) Zoe promised to take care of Pooh Bear Blanket today, so she is going to take him to Thea’s. Thank you, Zoe.
Zoe, The Enabler: (clearing proud of her responsibility) You’re welcome, Morgan.

Basically, I give up.

* * *

"Rockstars have kidnapped my son!" - Almost Famous

I may have overdone it a bit at the clambake on Saturday. That might have been obvious by my facebook status updates.

Needless to say, Sunday morning came a little too early for me, despite the fact that the girls seemed to be sleeping in.

Around 7 a.m. I hear Zoe starting to stir. In a quiet voice, I hear, "Morgan, it's morning time. Wake up, Morgan. It's morning time."

Ten minutes later Morgan gets up to use the bathroom and Zoe comes in to our room. "Mommy, I have to go potty, too. Oh, nevermind Mom, I will use my little potty. You stay in bed."

"Who are you and what have you done with my daughter?"

(Note: We have a training potty that doubles as the sink stool so they can reach to brush their teeth. So even though she doesn't need the training potty, it is still present. A fact I was very much thankful for.)

Then I hear Morgan help her empty the training potty into the regular toilet. WHAT?

Next there is a an opening and shutting of dresser drawers, the padding of little feet, and she appears again. "I picked out my clothes, Mommy."

In her hand is a tank top and shorts, but they MATCH, by god! I say, "I think we need to wear something nicer to Sunday school, okay? I'll help you."

I decide if she is going to be helpful Zoe, I better take advantage.

An Irishman, a Mini-Dress and a Lawnmower

2011-09-14T16:10:00.005-04:00

Scott and I wrote our race blog for his site, which you can read here. But as I was writing my section, I realized I would be remiss if I did not account for the drama we were exposed to while watching for him to pass on his bike. That is what follows below.

11:00 AM I notice one of the athletes that stopped at the port-a-pot is in tears and using someone’s cell phone. I can’t catch everything but it sounded something like I did the one time Scott tried to take me mountain biking with another couple when he was in law school. Basically a lot of crying and insisting that I can’t go another step and in fact will not be moving until someone brings a car around for me.

It sounded like the person on the other end may have been less than thrilled with her decision, but I could sympathize. Coincidentally, road assistance had stopped in this same spot to help someone that must have slipped a chain, so he was advising her not to go on as well, but she was clearly having a personal crisis.

We invited her to sit in a chair in the shade of our tent and after she explained how nauseous she was I offered her some of our pretzels. This immediately dis qualifies her, by the way, and I feel a little guilty that I let her off the hook, but Road Assistance came over and we could kind of tell he wouldn’t have let her back on the course, noting she would just become an emergency situation later on in the race.

At this point, she admits that she tried the Louisville ironman last year and had to be taken away in an ambulance. (Sidebar: On telling Scott this story he says, “Oh my god. I know who she is. I read her blog last week and it freaked me out.” Sidebar 2: You can read her account in her blog and she mentions us!) As Scott will say many times, the Rev3 staff is AMAZING. Road Assistance drove her back to transition and gave each of our girls a free “volunteer” t-shirt.

Incidentally, Zoe pointed out that the road assistance guy was using “English words”. Ha! He had an Irish accent.

12:00 PM Second batch of volunteers show up, most of which are high school girls wearing Future Teacher t-shirts. Except one. One girl who showed up in a short strapless sundress and stacked heels. To stand on the shoulder of the road by the port-a-pot. If you cannot picture this…picture a high school car wash fundraiser and the annoying girls on the corner yelling “CARWASH!” in a screeching voice, while not actually participating in any of the car washing.

According to her, she came right from church.

One, I’m sure god was happy you dressed like a hooker to worship him. (She didn’t really look like a hooker, but the dress was SHORT and the heels were HIGH.) Two, was there no room in your car for a pair of flip flops? Or shorts to throw on under your dress so the gusts of wind created by professional cyclists didn’t cause multiple Marilyn moments?

Now, I will say, she did hold people’s bikes for them while they used the pot, made sure they got the right nutrition and hydration on the bike by the time they were out, and gave them encouraging words upon their departure. However….mini-dress and heels. Cannot get the picture out of my brain.

12:30 PM A man you can only find in Firelands or the movie Deliverance saunters over to where we have set up camp. “Who has authorized you people to be here? I have to mow! All these cars are in my way! I have to mow!”

“Ummm…those aren’t our cars. They belong to all those volunteers down there. We just came to watch.”

“Well I need to mow and all those cars are in my way.”

Okay, sir, do I look like I have any authority whatsoever? We are sitting here with three little girls that are currently coloring Strawberry Shortcake pictures. We point him down to the volunteer tables and start packing our stuff, even though I know Scott is going to be coming at any given moment.

Jason tries to reason with him that it will only be a couple more hours and the bikers should all be past this point of the course. Could he just come back?

“NO! There is a football game on in an hour.”

Helpful. And by the way, I’ve seen longer grass in my own back yard, which we all know Scott’s obsession with lawn care, and this is a small patch of grass between a parking lot and a cornfield!

He comes back ten minutes later, after we have pretty much packed up everything but the tent, and says. “Aw, you don’t have to move the little ones. I can mow around you and turn the blade the other way.”

Information that would have been helpful ten minutes ago.

Meanwhile Scott has biked past, yelling out to US, but nobody even noticed him…thanks, dude.

Adult Truth #4

2011-09-09T08:44:00.001-04:00

Adult Truth #4
There is great need for a sarcasm font.

It would be even better if it was just one of those buttons at the top of the MSWord document like the Bold and Italics button. Sarcasm button.

Pros
I would be able to stop using quotation marks around my sarcasm, thus eliminating the confusion for people who put quotes around “everything” and making my blog much more readable. See earlier post.

Would have come in handy when I was texting Scott about the “sweet” thing my department did to present me with my five-year lapel pin which I will quickly send in to Cash for Gold.

Cons
If you make it too easy, I just might use the thing all the time. It would be like those people that type in all capital letters all the time. STOP SHOUTING AT ME ALREADY!

As of right now, I can hide my sarcasm in an email and it appears as if I am being genuine. This is the reason I stopped having face to face conversations. If you give me the font, I’ll probably use it. And that will just open up a whole other can of worms.

I Digress
I have been in my current job for five years, but it actually seems longer. I was at Ernst & Young for six before I got kicked out for being a mom (kidding…not really), and I feel like I have been here twice as long.

Maybe because my former frequent flyer miles actually caused days to disappear out of my life never to be recovered and now I’m living each and every one of them out. Not sure.

Regardless, it’s been five glorious years. (Where is that font?)

Background: We have a manager meeting every Thursday at lunch time where we eat our lunch together and then talk about classified information. Like whether or not Kelly agrees with me that the Marnie storyline on True Blood has run its course. The conference room we usually meet in is currently on a floor under construction.

Scene 1 in which I get no less than twenty meeting invite updates in my inbox from our esteemed leader who is trying to change the meeting location.

Me: You are killing me.
Bill: (Innocently) ?

That was over instant message, he didn’t actually say “?”

Scene 2 in which I return from the restroom, check my calendar for the location, grab my scissors and head to 802. No, I don’t usually bring weapons to manager meetings, but today I had decided to multitask and cut out strips of paper to use at the PTA meeting for door prize entries. I sit down and start cutting, only slightly registering that the lines in the cafeteria must be long. That’s when I receive a text.

Mary: We are back up here from 10.
Me: Where is “here?” I’m in 802.
Mary: 1301
Me: I’ll get there when I get there.

I’m pretty sure the tone of that one made it across. Because, damnit, I rarely look at my calendar to confirm a room, trusting the people that I’m with know where they are going, but he had just sent out all those updates and I wasn’t stopping in the cafeteria with them, so I actually, for once in my f-ing life, made a point to look.

Scene 3 in which I walk in to the actual meeting room and the rest of the department is standing along the wall, saying “Surprise!”

Me: (Clearly annoyed and thinking that he has gathered everybody for some announcement and had them say surprise so I wouldn’t be mad that his update hadn’t made it to me.) What for?

Probably not the reaction anyone was going for. So, yeah, sweet!

Adult Truth #11

2011-08-30T18:52:00.003-04:00

You never know when it will strike, but there comes a moment at work when you know that you just aren't going to do anything productive for the rest of the day.

Now this depends on your definition of productive. I mean, I personally consider studying the Fall TV Line Up productive. I have to make DVR arrangements. There are mathematical calculations involved.

Number of shows on a given night in a given hour or consecutive hour (because all shows are scheduled to record for five minutes after their scheduled end time – which did not help me on the VMAs, because they ran so far over it still cut off before The Hunger Games sneak peak.)

Number of shows total I can watch in a given week - Number of shows that Scott watches but doesn’t erase in a given week, thus causing me to go in at a later date and erase 10 Deadliest Catch, 7 Top Chef, and 13 My Super Sweet 16 (just kidding) all at once.

Number of hours available on my DVR given the fact that I am not allowed to remove certain items once they have been recorded, specifically from the Disney Channel.

That’s productive.

Going down to the Marriott, buying a Klondike bar and eating outside by the fountain while observing the Medical Mart construction…not so much.

Then again, there are certain things that I am required to do for my job that I also don’t consider productive, so maybe it all evens out in the end.

I guess we should only be nervous if this breaking point comes before lunch.

So for your viewing pleasure:

New Shows I’m Definitely Checking Out:
Up All Night and Free Agents (NBC sitcoms on Wednesday nights starting 9/14 and thankfully not conflicting with Modern Family)
2 Broke Girls (CBS sitcom on Monday starting 9/19 starring the girl from Nick and Norah’s Infinite Playlist)
New Girl (FOX sitcom on Tuesdays starting 9/20 starring Zooey Daeschenal who I love!)
Revenge (ABC drama on Wednesdays starting 9/21. It takes a very good pilot to get me hooked onto a drama, due to my television ADD.)
Whitney (NBC sitcom on Thursdays starting 9/22)
Suburgatory and How to Be a Gentleman (ABC sitcoms on Wednesdays starting 9/28. Hopefully, by the end of September I will have my Wednesday nights figured out, because adding these will put the DVR over the edge. But…hello? Kevin Dillon as a life coach? Sign me up.)

New Shows I Will Only Check Out if They Don’t Take Up DVR Real Estate:
Ringer (because Sarah Michelle Gellar…FKA Buffy…enough said)
Charlie’s Angels (because that’s how old I am)
A Gifted Man (because Patrick Wilson has been highly under-rated)
Pan Am (because I’ll try out a period show any day)
Terra Nova (because I’ll try out a SciFi show any day, too)

My Old DVR Setting Keepers:
Glee, Modern Family, Community (so excited they overlooked last year’s sophomore slump and kept this show on), and Boardwalk Empire.

Other Notable Items:
If October comes and I’m not out of my mind or DVR space, I may or may not check out: Homeland (Showtime), Hell on Wheels (AMC), Grimm (NBC), and Once Upon a Time (ABC)

Mario Lopez will be the host of a new hidden camera/reality show called H8R where he finds people that have gone on record as hating certain “celebrities” (using quotes because examples given are Snookie and Kim Kardashian) and arrange for these people to meet, giving the celebs a chance to change the “hater’s” mind. My question: Who the hell keeps giving this jock strap work? A.C. Slater, people! He still has a job while millions of Americans are on unemployment. Where is the justice?

I don’t watch Two and a Half Men, but I used to watch That 70’s Show. Do I think Ashton Kutcher can replace Charlie Sheen? I don’t know. Does his hair look bad in the promos? Most definitely.

I will not DVR it, but I will try to catch The Sing Off every now and again, if only to say hi to my good friend Nick Lachey (that’s for you, Leslie).

If you ever want to torture me, close me in a room and only play the following shows: CSI (any city), Law & Order (any unit), NCIS, Hawaii Five-O and Grey’s Anatomy.

Contrarywise, What it Wouldn't Be, It Would

2011-08-28T10:31:00.003-04:00

Unfortunately, I was unable to record the dozen or so conversations I had with Morgan over the last couple of days that have been truly blog-worthy. Suffice it to say, she has really enjoyed getting back to school.

Everything is exciting – from sitting next to our neighbor’s grandson in the classroom to walking past the teacher she hopes to get next year in the hallway.

Snag 1. (Background: Thea is still on vacation, so in an effort to make things as simple as possible, I drive Morgan to the bus stop she should be on if Thea was home. This is also where I expect her to be dropped off, as that is what I put on my transportation form. ) But I don’t know what the heck they did over there in the bus garage this summer. I never got a transportation letter with my schedule and bus stop assignment. The teachers didn’t have their transportation information still at “Open House”. All very suspect.

So as I’m driving to pick up Morgan, I get a call from the school.

“Morgan says she should be getting on the bus, but we have that her babysitter will be picking her up.” Huh? I’m glad my 1st grader knows what’s going on.

“No, Morgan is a walker on Wednesdays only. The other days she rides the bus to the sitter’s.”

“Oh, do you know what bus she is supposed to get on?”

Okay, I realize there are fifty million screaming kids in the background and it’s not the elementary school’s fault at all, but you’re asking ME?

“She got on bus 15 in the morning, and according to the website, bus 15 drops off at this spot in the afternoon, so I’m assuming it’s 15.”

I got my child back. The buses were only running 25 minutes behind.

Her movie request after the first day of school? Jaws 3. Not quite sure what her subconscious is telling me there. She kept explaining things to Zoe and Zoe just nodded her head in awe.

“See, Zoe. When Jaws pulls that person under water the actor doesn’t really die. She just has to stay under the water until the camera goes away and then she can come up.”

Then she asks me all these movie production questions like I’m some special effects expert.

“Where does the guy that got eaten by Jaws go? Does he have to stay inside the robot Jaws for the rest of the movie? Do they pull him out the other end?”

You try explaining film editing to a six-year-old.

Snag 2. Hit it the second morning when I had to warn her about the lice check, which she apparently remembers from last year, because she immediately went hysterical about them taking her braids out and not being able to put them back in.

This makes no sense, because last year she raved about the lady that re-braided her hair and how she did it “Just like Mommy.” Completely irrational. I have no idea where she gets it.

Meanwhile, I’m sure my new hire at work thinks I do absolutely nothing. I was only in the office three days this week and the first two were short because of all the PTA goings on in the evenings.

And I had more e-mail to go through Friday when I got back than I did after my vacation. So even though we sit in the same row, I think I talked to him twice (not counting instant messaging him despite the fact that he could probably hear me at his desk if I just spoke in a normal voice).

Here’s to next week getting back to a normal and dull routine. Dull is good.

Dirty Cups, Volume 376

2011-08-23T22:13:00.003-04:00

I have to postpone my "Adult Truth Tuesday" because this tea party has made a mess of the cups.

Home Sweet Home

Best part about coming home from vacation? Feels like we live in a mansion. And for those of you who packed in to our spring beer tasting party like sardines, you know that is not the case.

First of all, we had a GREAT vacation and the villa was VERY nice....it was also the size of our living room. The whole thing. The size of our living room. I’m pretty sure I’m not exaggerating.

It really didn’t turn out to be much of a problem, but it was a slight shock to the system. I will say whoever took the pictures for the online listing is a genius!

Worst part about coming home from vacation? Still finding sand everywhere.

Girls were exceptional on the twelve hour ride home. Just to recap for your viewing pleasure: The Pacifier, Tinkerbell, Beauty and the Beast, and The Black Cauldron. (Zoe’s favorite part of The Pacifier? When the little girl tells Vin Diesel he has big boobs. Cracks her shit up!)

Week From Hell

Monday
*First day back to work (plus it was my new hire’s first day – I’m sure I made a great first impression).
*Elementary school Room Parent meeting. Only one other mom showed up for Morgan’s classroom and neither of us want to be the stinking room parent.
*Early Childhood PTA Budget Review. Perhaps one glass of wine too many? Nah.

Tuesday
*School supply shopping…nothing like waiting till the last minute. P.S. Why don’t they make pre-sharpened No.2 pencils? I have a blister from sharpening the requested TWENTY FOUR pencils. P.P.S. What the hell do you need a clean athletic sock for? I cannot wrap my head around that one.
*1st grade “open house”. Please refer to last year’s post at this time to understand how much it is NOT an open house. But at least we learned from our mistake. We weren’t even the last ones there. We’re improving! (Note: Still no volunteers for Room Parent. Finally, the mom that was at the meeting with me broke down and took it. For the record, it was easier to get two Lice Checkers than one Room Parent.)

Wednesday
*School clothes and lunch box shopping. Morgan has also requested if she could have “like a high school bag, not a backpack”, meaning she wants a messenger bag. WTF? Currently under debate, because there is absolutely nothing wrong with her backpack from last year. I mean, they don’t actually carry books in it, so it’s not like it’s worn out.
*Early Childhood PTA Board Meeting. We get to tell everyone the results of the FOUR HOUR budget meeting.

Thursday
*First day of school. I guess this really isn’t a tough day for me. I’m taking the day off so I can be at the bus stop at pick up and drop off. And I’ll spend the rest of the time alone with Zoe…so maybe it IS the toughest day for me.

The weekend cannot come fast enough. So I will leave you with this after all...

Adult Truth #9
I can't remember the last time I wasn't at least kind of tired.

Adult Truth #13 and Hilton Head Vacation, Part 1

2011-08-16T14:30:00.001-04:00

Map Quest really needs to start their directions on # 5. I'm pretty sure I know how to get out of my neighborhood.

It also should prevent you from doing stupid things like typing Rockville, SC instead of Rock Hill, SC. Luckily Rock Hill is further north than Rockville (and Scott has an internal GPS gene), so we never actually went the wrong way.

To be fair, there are also two Rock Hill, SC; so even if I had typed it correctly the firs time, chances are I would have chosen the wrong one.

The point is, we made it well past Rock Hill the first night, hunkered down at a skeevy Days Inn and made it to the Hilton Head villa the next day ahead of schedule.

* * *

The girls did really good on the way down. Mainly because on Friday I went and purchased at dual screen portable DVD player. This is where having kids addicted to television (and snacks) comes in handy. They are easily bribed.

Half of a bag of M&Ms + a quarter box of Mini Nilla wafers+ The Labyrinth + Toy Story 2 + 2 nugget Happy Meals (with apples, please – we are very health conscious) + The Wizard of Oz + Alice in Wonderland (Johnny Depp version, naturally) + McGriddles and hashbrowns + Jumangi + all the Lady Gaga and Britney Spears I have on my iPod = 1 very pleasant drive for Mommy and Daddy.

Well, Daddy probably would have been better without the Britney Spears, but it was a small price to pay.

Note: I am also lucky that my kids watch age inappropriate movies that last longer than 60-90 minutes.

* * *

The first day in the villa was still difficult. I definitely was not yet in vacation mode and felt myself being very snappy. I blame it partially on the fact that Morgan speaks like she’s twelve, so when she acts like she’s…I don’t know…six (which is, in fact, her age)…I can’t reconcile myself to it.

But seriously, how many times does a person have to be told that life is not a game of Twenty Questions?

I totally apologize to my parents. I had to have almost been the death of them at this age. If I come out of this alive, will I find out that there is a survivor’s club for veteran’s of smarty-pants first graders?

Anyway…I’m in a much calmer state today. Great morning at the beach and will soon be heading down to collect some shells. I apologize to all of those reading this that are not on vacation.

Sucks to be you.

Adult Truth #13

2011-08-09T20:33:00.002-04:00

Yep, I still got nothin'.

Adult Truth #13
I'm always slightly terrified when I exit out of Word and it asks me if I want to save any changes to my ten-page technical report that I swear I did not make any changes to

What’s more terrifying? When I open a document that is attached to an email; make…oh…I don’t know…a TRILLION changes to it and hit “save”. Only to realize, the next day, that I didn’t hit “save as” to my hard drive, so really I just saved it to my Lotus Notes temporary file, which is…well…temporary.

Can’t decide which is worse.

That memo where I agonized over the precise wording that is both a high level summary yet detailed enough to keep people (and by people, I mean auditors) from asking me follow up questions?

Or that download to excel that I just formatted the bejeezus out of in order to give it any semblance of perceived value?

Slightly less terrifying, but still annoying, are the questions excel asks upon opening.

Disable or enable macros?

I feel like I should always say disable. I don’t know why. It’s my gut instinct. A macro sounds bad. Like some sort of virus. Yet, the answer is almost always enable.

This spreadsheet is linked to information in a different spreadsheet, do you wish to update this spreadsheet with the information from the different spreadsheet? (Okay, that might not be the exact question, but you get the point.)

I would like the option to ask who the hell updated the other spreadsheet and how do I know they are not a complete fuck nut that is totally screwing with me?

P.S. (sorry, Joe) File annoyance #368: Making all edits to a document titled “version 4”, only to find out we are on version 7.

Adult Truth #1

2011-08-02T19:09:00.003-04:00

I've been having a little writer's block, and while going through some old e-mails I ran across a "forward" called Adult Truths, so....new feature.

Adult Truth Tuesday. In which I shamelessly steal someones idea.

Adult Truth #1

I think part of a best friend's job should be to immediately clear your computer history if you die.

This might be a job for more than one person.

D - Please remove all "fiction" regardless of password protection. As for the passwords...chances are even I don't remember them. If you choose to publish anything posthumously, for the love of god, please give me a pseudonym and a good editor.

G - You are in charge of any Internet content that could be construed as "stalking". I trust you are familiar. This includes frequent visits to the Joey McIntyre website and/or Boy Band Lovers Anonymous. It wouldn't hurt to look for cookies having to do with Bradley Cooper either. On a related note, you can probably notify all of the above that they can remove their restraining orders.

Y - as my senior staff, you have the following responsibilities (which also apply if I am fired):

1. Go through my "sent" folder and delete anything that wasn't sent to someone in our corporate Lotus Notes directory.
2. Change my "out of office" message to..."I'm out, sucka! Send it to someone who gives a sh*t!"
3. Remove my IMDB and Wikipedia history.
4. Give laptop to D&G to repeat above tasks.

CONSTANT VIGILANCE!

2011-07-20T19:49:00.003-04:00

It has been brought to my attention that I should be giving my final opinion on the conclusion of the Harry Potter Empire. I’m not sure how much my opinion really matters one way or another, but I guess maybe I could attempt to explain to you why I am in mourning for The Boy Who Lived.

MOVIE AND BOOK SPOILERS!

Background

Back in 2000…I happened to mention that I wondered what all this Harry Potter hype was about. I thought Mr. Potter was the author; his name was so prominently displayed on all the book jackets.

I received the first three books for my birthday, finished them within nano-seconds and promptly went and bought Goblet of Fire the day it was released. Then spent the next THREE years reading fan fiction to tide me over until The Order of the Phoenix was published. (My early days of Ernst & Young left me with a LOT of time on my hands.)

I reserved tickets for the opening day of The Sorcerer’s Stone. I had t-shirts. I was “sorted” into Ravenclaw. I stalked the Oberlin book store for a maroon and gold scarf. I drove to Border’s to get my pre-ordered Half-Blood Prince hours before leaving on vacation and I read Deathly Hallows by flashlight when our power went out. I named my dog Potter for Christsakes!

This might seem odd for a grown person to do. I can’t disagree with you.

Why I Love the Books

Would I classify the books as literary works of staggering genius?

Style – No. There is some cringe-worthy dialogue, a few over-used plot devices, and many more pages than necessary for the sake of the story (with the exception of the first three books).

Substance – Yes. There is no denying that she spawned a renewed interest in reading to a generation of kids that may have never seen the inside of a library otherwise. Her books are so rich with characters and her world is so vividly set in front of you, that you have to be dead inside to not want more of it. It’s not Charles Dickens, people. It’s fairy tale.

Is it original?

No – The hero myth has been used since the beginning of time in storytelling and she has one of the most faithful adaptations to it with the thankful exception that she refrained from killing off our hero.

Yes – The depth that she gave to each character keeps it from being just a hero myth. It’s about friendship and loyalty as much as it is about good versus evil as much as it is about choosing your own path. Harry Potter can be a “brave little toaster” (Chamber of Secrets), whiny little bitch (Order of the Phoenix), and a selfless savior (Deathly Hallows). He grows…and sometimes regresses…the whole way. Those heroes are few and far between.

What I like best…

…is what they opened me up to. As a child, I loved fantasy…Roald Dahl (of Willie Wonka fame, but James and the Giant Peach was the best), E. B. White (Charolette’s Web) and Robert O’Brian (The Rats of Nihm) were huge favorites. Guess what? As an adult…I still love them. And I had almost forgotten how much.

It made me go back and read things I missed as a kid…Baum’s Wonderful World of Oz and Lewis’s Narnia.

And it made me pick up new things I would have otherwise ignored…Pullman’s Dark Materials and Collin’s Hunger Games (both of which are stylistically written a thousand times better than HP).

Why I Love the Movies

I thought I would hate the movies. They couldn’t possibly come close the Hogwarts in my head. But they actually managed it brilliantly whether they planned on it or not. The supporting cast alone had us all drooling (Hello! ALAN F-ING RICKMAN!) despite the unknown nature of the three central characters.

Having Columbus direct the first two made the focus on the characters of Harry, Ron and Hermione. Their faithfulness to the book made you become comfortable with the actors. Being comfortable with the actors makes you a little more agreeable to artistic license with the material.

Cuaron got the “coming of age” story, which was right up his alley. Prisoner of Azkaban was my favorite book and my favorite movie, despite the fact that it was the first to start the traumatic separation of church and state (read: book and movie). If Columbus had made that movie it would have been too light (and too long), if Yates had done it – way too dark. And Gary F-ing Oldman!

Newell had the odds against him. Kloves and Rowling had to cut the Goblet of Fire screenplay drastically from the original manuscript. The effects had to be better. The mood had to be darker and take a serious turn away from a “kids” movie (up to PG-13). And this guy’s resume is all over the place. I know there’s controversy over this one, but I thought it was seemless. And I think the trick is to NOT re-read the book right before the movie. I took the movie for what it was and didn’t compare. End of story.

Which brings us to Yates and the last three books.

My second favorite movie was Order of the Phoenix - which is odd, because I was so annoyed by Harry in the book. But it finally left Hogwarts. So, visually, it was the most appealing to me. (Although, it also marked the moment I had to accept that Sirius was really and truly dead, so I had no hope of him returning in the yet-unpublished Hallows). This was Helena Bonham-Carter at her craziest and she rocked it.

The Half-Blood Prince was more about a love story to me, so this is the only film that left me wanting more. Everyone hop aboard the good ship Harry and Ginny. Who cares that the Death Eaters are on a rampage and the Ministry has taken over the school. Harry is finally in love with Ginny and all will be right with the world…That message did not get delivered.

I thought The Deathly Hallows was much too long of a book. Maybe Rowling had gotten Stephenie Meyer (Twilight) Syndrome. So when I heard Yates was cutting it into two movies, I sensed a little money-making scheme underway. But it was completely the right thing to do. As a non-fan reviewer put it…Part 1 got to be moody and full of despair, while Part 2 got to be all out Voldemort Ass-Kicking War. It would have been strange to mash those together.

Am I Done Yet?

If you’ve made it this far, you either:

A. Really like to read my blog
B. Really like Harry Potter
C. Have nothing better to do

So I will wrap it up.

Don’t underestimate the camaraderie to be formed while waiting to find out if Snape is good or evil. I had a completely bizarre and in-depth conversation with a Border’s employee while pre-ordering my Hallows.

I continue to be amazed when a seemingly non-suspect individual shows up with a Gryffindor mug. Harry Potter is for everybody. Unless you don’t like a good fairy tale. Then it’s not for you. So go back to your CNN and stop reading my blog.

The Fish Tank Standard

2011-07-18T20:33:00.004-04:00

When Scott was in his first year of law school, we moved into a “gated community” apartment unit. The naivety of that decision I'll save for another post. All you need to know is that, by the time our lease was up, we had come to our senses.

We found a great rental, in what was probably the opposite of a gated community, close to the Toledo hospital.

The main move went very smoothly with a few different trips and various friends helping us out.

There may or may not have been a U-haul involved, because we really hadn’t accumulated that much crap in the period of one year – considering one of us was a full-time student and the other one of us worked the bridal registry at a department store. Ahhh…fun times.

The last item to be moved was the fish tank, which we could clearly handle on our own.

To be more specific…a 55 gallon rectangular fish tank, with an inch and a half of live rock and sand on the bottom that had to be covered in water for the “good” organisms to survive (Note to PETA: All fish were removed for the relocation).

So this tank weighs no less than 10 baby hippos and needs to be moved up to a second floor of a historic-home-turned-duplex. And did I mention there is a turn in the staircase that leads to said second floor?

Remember that episode of Friends when Ross bought a couch and he kept screaming the word “PIVOT!” like if only everyone listened to him it would magically make it around a corner that was much too narrow?

If you can...now imagine that the couch was waterlogged and one of the people trying to move it has the upper-body strength of a fetus.

In this instance the stairway was plenty wide, so pivoting wasn’t necessarily our issue. Our issue was that Scott agreed to be the one that had to walk backwards. This sounds good until you realize the person walking backwards is going up the stairs first, so the person walking forward is baring the weight of 8 out of 10 of those baby hippos.

As opposed to repeating the same word over and over, Scott chose more motivational chants like. “JUST FUCKING DO IT!” and, “ARE YOU CRYING?” which I assume he only yelled to distract me from the fact that I was having a stroke, coronary, and panic attack all at the same time – but most definitely in a manner of love and undying devotion.

Needless to say the fish tank made it. It actually made it on three subsequent moves, but the “live” component was always left behind. (We sometimes learn from our mistakes.)

And now we have a moving standard:

1 Antique (read: broken) Pinball Machine Into the Basement + 4Grown Men + 1 Railing that Should Have Been Removed = 1 Fish Tank (it would have been 2 Fish Tanks if it hadn’t had quite so much “muscle” behind it)

1 New to Us Refrigerator In + 1 Old Refrigerator Out = ½ Fish Tank (nobody’s life was actually threatened by the object itself or the participants...more just an abstract pain in the ass)

1 Washing Machine Into Basement – 3 Grown Men + 1 Female with Fetus Arms = ¾ Fish Tank

There was actually no shouting. Definitely not as heavy. But anytime I assess the situation and ask “Wouldn’t you rather have Phil do this with you?” it’s not going to be pretty.

We had a dolly, so we could "easily" lower it one step at a time.

First problem...our back hallway is narrower than Ross's apartment building and the monster-truck wheels on the dolly would not allow us to slide it over, so we had to take the dolly off.

But because I had been below to supposedly just guide while Scott held the weight of the dolly, I again found myself on the shit end (sorry, short end) of this stick. After my first PTSD flashback tremor subsided, we squeezed our bodies through spaces much too small for us to switch positions.

Again we start moving forward and I can literally see me gently pushing the washing machine forward until it starts rolling on its own free will...down the stairs...crushing Scott beneath it...and I chicken out. There may have been pathetic begging involved.

At this point we realize that if we move it forward somewhat and balance it, we can put the dolly back on. Which we do. Then I have another tremor because now I imagine the added weight of the dolly and washing machine flattening him. Mainly because I can't get enough leverage to tip the dolly back until it's at the very edge of the stairs.

Take the dolly off. Switch positions. Put the dolly back on. One more horrifying glimpse of a possible bone crushing incident - this time with me underneath - and we're on the move. One steep, narrow step at a time.

Actual time for completion...a mere fifteen minutes. I repeat...¾ Fish Tank.

It's the Very Best Mustard

2011-07-11T21:14:00.002-04:00

Vacuum update: I bought a Shark. I've named it Jaws. The box claims that it never loses suction. Doesn't even have quotation marks around "never", so it must be true.

Twenty minutes after I finish vacuuming with Jaws (and emptying the densely hair-packed canister), the washing machine starts making funky noises. This I can't blame on Potter...yet.

Lucky Break # 1 - It was on the final rinse. The only problem seems to be that the inside isn't spinning when it's supposed to, so all the water drained...except for the water that all the clothes were holding in them.

Lucky Break #2 - It was mostly the girls clothes. So I only had to wring out 100 tiny little t-shirts and shorts, as opposed to large bath towels or 10 pairs of Scott's khakis.

* * *

While eating appetizers on the patio bar at Reddstone...mind you, it was only 7 p.m....

A man roughly ten times my size approached the bar, belched much louder than I have ever heard come out of my cousin Rachel (which is significantly loud), and proceeded to nonchalantly ask for a beer.

I'm sorry, no "excuse me"? Not even the slightest amount of remorse that you made me want to vomit up my calamari?

Five minutes later, he insists that the bartender believes him when he says "you're looking good tonight." She is much more gracious than I would have been.

* * *

Surprisingly, I didn't get any volunteers (except from my two cousins in Kansas that are "hilarious") to help throw hay bales with us on Sunday. I can only assume that you were ashamed of your suburban upbringing and didn't want to admit that you've never worn a John Deere trucker hat with your L.L. Bean rain boots. I don't blame you.

Step 1...photo journal for Facebook posterity.

Step 2...climb the ladder to the loft. I'm not afraid of heights, but I am deathly afraid of ladders. I have trouble on the girl's bunk bed ladder. This particular ladder is close to a 90 degree angle and ascends about 12 feet in the air. Awesome!

Step 3...yell at the kids, "Stop torturing the turtle!"

Repeat Step 3 until all patience has been eroded and send kids back up to Nana.

Step 4...make note of size and location of all wasp nests that Papa has graciously left hanging from the rafters. Repeat Step 4 after every fifth bale, as swarming wasps continue to multiply.

Step 5...supervise little brother stacking twice as many bales as me, occasionally kicking one towards him to help him out a little.

Step 6...stack bales loosely, so you run out of room quicker and can leave the loft, which gives off the same vibe as a towering inferno.

Step 7...make sure dad doesn't run over any kittens (again) while removing the hay wagon.

Step 8...drink the water that Nana and the kids finally brought us for our "break" after we were already done with the whole damn thing.

* * *

I'd like to officially mark True Blood's "jump the shark" moment on July 10, 2010 approximately 9:30 p.m. when Bill told Jessica to "Vamp up!" Because suddenly, after three whole seasons otherwise, Bill no longer talks like he's from the Civil War era that he died in, but instead uses cheesy slang that you wouldn't even hear on My Babysitter's a Vampire.

"Camelot" vs. "Game of Thrones" - Part 2

2011-07-07T19:18:00.003-04:00

The following contains spoilers.

The most blog hits I have ever received for a single post was my Camelot/Game of Thrones review (250 and counting), which I wrote early in both series. Now that I’ve seen all episodes of both (with the exception of the 9th episode of Camelot, which for some reason isn’t On Demand) I’ll give my final verdict.

So if you are reading this and are not my facebook friend…please comment! I mean, you can comment if you are my friend, but this is the only time that random people come to my blog and it’s kind of awesome.

In Summary (from previous post)
Camelot (Cam) is loosely based on the rise of King Arthur and is historically accurate for the period and geography, regardless of whether Arthur himself is fact or fiction. On the other hand, both Merlin and Morgan practice sorcery. So in that regard, it is still of the "fantasy" genre.

Game of Thrones (GoT) is based on a fictional world which looks almost identical to medieval times but seems to have a large variety of cultures (though mostly British accents) within an unfathomably limited square mile area and some zombie like creatures on the attack.

Gore Factor
Besides the fact that Sir Ector/King Lot was the best death scene ever, there never was the same amount of gory blood in Cam as Spartacus, which I was thankful for. Then they went and decapitated a nun. So now I have the same criticism from GoT that decapitation just can’t be made to look realistic for me.

Closely rivaling Cam for the best death scene ever would be Khal Drogo’s men pouring hot molten gold over Viserys head to give him his “crown” that he begged for – but that wasn’t really gory. I personally love that some of the best bloodiness was at the teeth of the Stark children’s direwolves. And even though I knew it was coming (yes, I read spoilers) they really had me sucked in to Ned Stark’s treason trial…right up until they decapitated him. Ugh.

Winner: It’s actually a tie. With one much-mentioned exception, all the violence effects were very well done in both of them.

Incest Themes
I said it all before…GoT is way heavy on the incest themes for reasons I can’t quite fathom. Cam did finally seal the deal with Morgan shifting into the shape of Guinevere to make a baby with Arthur (her half-brother) so she could “give birth to a king”. But since that’s the closest they have ever come to the actual Arthurian legend, I can’t fault them for it.

Winner: Camelot.

Nudity
Cam did finally catch up to GoT on this one. And I’d say they even surpassed by the mere fact that all of the main female characters got naked. (It is possible that Claire Forlani had a body double from the way they edited that scene together.) GoT on the other hand (with the exception of that first episode with Daenerys), left it to the whores, which I thought was sweet.

Winner: Another tie. It all washed out in the end.

Plot
Cam had some really good moments. Some were great re-imaginings of the legend - pulling the sword from the stone, the lady of the lake, and the beginnings of the round table. Some were completely new concepts that fell right into place. But some just went too much against my pre-conceived notions – Arthur stealing Guinevere from his champion. And then there were places where I could tell the plot was trying to be good, but the dialogue was so horrible it couldn’t quite get there. The storyline rallied in the final episode (And it looked like it may have in episode 9, too. Did I mention that On Demand sucks?), but like Scott says, anyone can write a premiere and a finale, it’s the in between stuff that’s the real measure.

I just downloaded GoT to my nook, but I heard that they really didn’t stray too far from that first book (of course True Blood didn’t stray far either and now it’s a cluster fuck). I thought episodes 3 and 4 were incredibly boring. And yes, I get that they were needed for character development – doesn’t make them any less boring. That being said…wow. In the end, there were no less than five essential plots occurring simultaneously and I was sucked into every one of them (another note to True Blood). Still love Daenerys and Arya the best, but John Snow’s moments at The Wall have been right up there.

Winner: Game of Thrones

Acting
So, my favorite actor of the Cam series (Leontes) sacrifices himself for the king in the final episode (presumably so he can go do his own show on Cinemax called Strike Back, which was apparently stolen from the UK). I still do not like Arthur, but he did become pretty bad ass in the finale, so when he’s not actually speaking, he’s okay. Or maybe it was because he had his horribly nasty hair pulled back in a pony tail. Gawain and Kay did a great job, but otherwise they might as well have brought in a whole new batch of knights. Honestly, the writing is so poor in parts that I can’t really tell whose fault it is.

If you’re not into SciFi and Fantasy you might not know who Sean Bean is, but to the rest of us, he is a god. Rest in peace, Ned Stark. I will definitely miss you. Again, it always helps to have good writing and I hear that most of the dialogue was taken directly from the book. But all these actors are amazing, even the children. If I had to pick the best out of the cast, not counting Sean Bean, just based on whose screen time I enjoy the most…Peter Dinklage as Tyrion (no shocker there), Maisie Williams as Arya, Rory McCann as Sandor Clegane, and – wait for it - Iain Glen as Ser Jorah in by far the best supporting role.

Winner: Game of Thrones

Naturally, the overall winner is GoT. HBO rarely disappoints me in the first season. And their second seasons are almost always better, because they don’t have to deal with that pesky character development. But that leaves GoT in a bind. With the death of Ned Stark, King Robert, Viserys, and Khal Drogo, there are new characters that are going to come into play. They are going to need some slick skillz to introduce them without derailing the momentum.

As for Cam…it’s been cancelled. Apparently, everyone hated Arthur as much as I did.

Martha Stewart Floor Cleaning Arsenal

2011-07-05T19:55:00.005-04:00

In honor of my first-born's ninth birthday. Never thought he would make it another year. We apologize for letting a cat into what should be the sweet life of your twilight years.

Broom and dustpan
Uses: Oreo crumbs, cobwebs, dog hair, ant colonies, dried up Play-Doh, dog hair, piece of string cheese left under the couch last week, dog hair.

Swiffer
Uses: Dog hair

Wet Swiffer
Uses: Dog hair stuck to floor with slobber

Electric Broom
Uses: Dog hair off the hardwood floors and low pile carpeting

Little Green Machine
Uses: Dog hair stuck to furniture upholstery with slobber

Vacuum
Uses: All of the above - most notably, dog hair - off the high pile rugs

Shop Vac
Uses: Dog hair off the stairway runner.

Lint Roller
Uses: When your regular vacuum and your shop vac both stop sucking in the same weekend because they have too much dog hair that has made it into the actual motors.

Directions:
1. Get down on your hands and knees.
2. Swipe lint roller across rug one time.
3. Remove no-longer-adhesive layer from lint roller.
4. Repeat as necessary.

Note: One full lint roller will clean about 3 square feet of high dog hair traffic.

Nonsense, Volume 564

2011-06-23T20:23:00.005-04:00

Sidebar: The midges are officially gone. Walking path play list: Where the Wild Things Are soundtrack by Karen O. Great music, but too many slow parts for exercising to it. However...add "Rumpus" to your mix. I challenge you to remain still while you listen to it.

Nonsense #1

I may or may not have mentioned all the hullabaloo about the new garbage cans.

Our town was prepped for approximately 6 months around this drastic change to all things refuse, with the move towards automation. Everyone was to receive one garbage and one recycle container. Restrictions may apply. Read fine print for details. Etc.

We received no less than 7 written communications on the subject, because everyone knows that people have to be told 7 times before they remember. There were town meetings. Plural.

Quite a stir, as you can imagine. You can't?

Long story short...the change was made. About a month ago. So of course our "fence" neighbor asked Scott this weekend if he knew why the garbage people weren't taking all their trash off the curb...

But that is not what this post is about.

This post is about the signs coming into town to remind us that our Trash Pick Up is Now on "Friday". (Yes, they changed the day on us, too. I'm telling you...hullabaloo!)

Do not get me wrong. I'm not opposed to the signs. Lord knows, this is something I need help remembering with my mom-nesia.

What I don't get is why Friday is in quotation marks.

Is "Friday" a code word? Wink, wink.

Because when I put quotation marks around something it either means I'm being sarcastic (as in our "fence" neighbors) or something I don't believe. Kind of the same way I interchange air quotes and the word allegedly.

Example 1: Joe is allegedly sick.
Example 2: Joe is "sick".

Either of which implies that I don't believe Joe is sick. Or that sick really means hung over. Because lets face it, that is usually the case.

Nonsense #2

Walking downtown from Public Square to the Q almost every day, I have become deaf, dumb and blind to a lot of things.

Take for instance the resident crazy person at the corner bus stop by the Federal Reserve building.

Unlike some, he doesn't actually ask for anything other than attention. So either he is truly mentally unstable or he's just doing it for shits and giggles. Either way, I do not care so long as he does not invade my personal space.

Thus, I typically ignore him. Much like the high school couple making out on the picnic table at the walking path. Not my child - yet.

So today he is flailing his arms about, pacing the corner, and rambling incoherently as a police vehicle comes up to the light. At which point I distinctly hear "Uh oh, Copper" before more rambling begins.

However, said Copper turns the corner and gets out of his vehicle and "crazy" (allegedly) man goes silent and walks away.

Now, I ask you, would an actual lunatic have the needed faculties to understand the situation he is in and get out of Dodge? Or would he just keep rambling away as the "Copper" (sarcasm) tries to deal with him?

You decide.

Potty Training: Zoe Edition

2011-06-16T22:05:00.003-04:00

But first, a random tangent:

I did go to the walking path at 9pm (Recommended Playlist: A Fine Frenzy - Bomb in a Birdcage). All was well for the first mile and a half. Then out of nowhere, it was like the midges hatched in mid-air. There were none, then there were zillions, floating in massive waves off the lake. It was biblical.

So, like any sane person, I head south.

I'm starting to cross Lake Road and I'm watching two older women heading my direction. At first I think one is holding a swaddled baby, but then I realize it is too round. As they get closer, I see it is a bundle of plant clippings, and the other woman has a similar sized bundle wrapped up in her shirt.

They are generally acting suspicious, so either they stole them from someone's yard or the community rose garden (although what they were holding couldn't have had thorns). Cannot decide if this is on par with stealing vegetables from the community garden on the other side of town, considering people pay money to plant their vegetables there.

And they say we live in a safe community...might as well be downtown Detroit.

Now back to the regularly scheduled post.

You know who pisses me off? People who get their kids potty trained by two and act like it’s no big deal. Okay, so really I’m just jealous…okay, but really it pisses me off.

I actually can’t remember when we got Morgan on the toilet band wagon. I remember “potty stickers”, and I remember it was relatively quick and thorough (not even a night-time accident), but probably closer to the three than two mark.

I was definitely pregnant with Zoe, because I remember the mantra, “Only one in diapers…only one in diapers!” But I was never really worried about it, or even caught up in how old she was at the time.

Maybe it was because our social circle was slightly behind us in child rearing. Maybe it was because Morgan never seemed to be manipulative about it, like going behind a chair to “fill her pants.” (My sister-in-law should be cringing right about now.) Maybe I just had a lot more f-ing patience.

What I remember clearly about Morgan would be the nights I would wake up at 1 a.m. to have her beady little eyes staring straight into my soul, waiting for me to take her to the bathroom. Nevermind the fact that she had to walk all the way around our king-sized bed, past her father, to get to me.

Nowadays Morgan has a bladder the size of an oil tanker. Sometimes she doesn’t even go right when she gets up in the morning. So at least I don’t have to worry about her being in the top bunk.

Then there’s Zoe.

It seemed to me that everyone was getting there faster. Now some of the concern I can blame on my own ridiculousness. For instance, Paige is almost six months older than her, but I always think of them as the same age.

But then we have Lydia at daycare that is six months younger than Zoe. When I mentioned I was going to try training Zoe over Christmas, her mother decided she would do it, too. Guess who took to it?

Since I take two weeks off of work around the holidays, I thought it would be a great time to go cold turkey. Zoe would be 2 ½. Not unreasonable, and yet all I got out of the deal was ten extra loads of laundry and a steam cleaner on standby next to the couch.

So we went the Pull-Up route. And the treat route. And the yelling route. Not my proudest moment, but when she looks right at you and is clearly crapping her pants and telling you not to look at her, you can see my frustration.

I had pretty much written her off, but then she started wanting to go to the bathroom when we were in public places. Particularly, the grocery store. Now, I’m sorry, but the local Heinen’s restroom is not the lap of luxury. Why anyone would prefer to use it over the comfort of their own home is beyond me. It’s one step up from a porta-pot.

But there we were – still keeping the Pull-Up producers in the black. Fast forward to this last Saturday while getting dressed in the morning. I noticed that we only had a few Pull-Ups left and I suddenly came up with an idea.

“If you can keep your underwear dry, we can pick out a new baby.”

Eyes light up. “I can do it, Mom.”

“Everyday.”

“Everyday, Mom.”

Yes, for the next five days I had to listen to “Can we go get my baby now?” But I also got to listen to the musical sound of pee tinkling into the toilet and melodious flush that followed it up.

$9 baby from Target…totally worth it. (Despite the fact that it looks like half the other babies currently calling the playroom their home and they are starting to refer to her as Angelina Jolie.)

So of course I spent half of our time at the pool yesterday taking her to the bathroom, because she “has to poop!” Which of course she doesn’t, it’s just gas…so moral of the story…everyone should just wear diapers.

A Very Merry Unbirthday To Me

2011-06-13T19:59:00.002-04:00

How did I spend my birthday?

80°F. Walked Morgan to school and checked on the robin's nest. Eggs had hatched and three little beaks were waiting for mom to come back. Girls were REALLY excited.

80°F. Walked home and watched an episode of Veronica Mars with Zoe. I don't know. I just had this craving to do a Veronica Mars marathon and it happens to be on Netflix streaming so I've been sneaking episodes here and there.

85°F. Zoe starts to ride tricycle to library, but decides it's too far and we go back. Zoe starts to ride scooter to library, but decides it's too hard and we go back. Push Zoe in the stroller to the library and find an empty bird's nest that had fallen on to the side walk. Biggest one we have ever found, so that's cool.

90°F. Walk from library to the elementary school and show all the other kids and Morgan's teacher the nest. Learn about Morgan's teacher's abnormal fear of birds. On the way home, we debate eating a "picnic" on the porch and setting up the slip and slide. By the time we get home, Morgan and I don't want to leave the AC. I catch Zoe trying to sit in her water table. And HoHo is hanging out underneath it on the wet pavement.

95°F. Head to the girl's annual check up. No shots for either of them this time!

100°F. Okay, maybe I'm exaggerating now, but it was damn hot. Make a Costco run and let them have hotdogs for an early dinner since we're heading to the gym later. I finish Zoe's hot dog for her and thus continue to burp it up for the remainder of the evening.

100°F. Put the girls in Kids Club while Michelle and I take a spin class and sweat some more of my ass off (if only that literally happened)! Scott picks the girls up and takes them out to the pool, while we hit a yoga class, ending with a modified Savasana pose that kicked ass. That's right, a double work out for me on my birthday. Scott must be rubbing off on me.

100°F. Scott goes to bed at 10:30 so I get to watch another Veronica Mars episode. What a great day!

How did I spend the day after my birthday?

If you are my facebook friend you may have seen me post a picture about how much I love East 4th in the morning. Pretty. Clean. Construction guys just starting to show up. City workers watering all the lovely flower baskets.

On this particular morning I walked in front of Chinato and a few pieces of gravel or cement fell from above and almost hit me in the head.

Then some woman had made Lola's her personal patio and was sitting there on her phone PAINTING HER TOENAILS! I mean, it's not like she had her feet on the table, but still. Can you have a little class? People are going to be eating lunch at that table later on.

Spent most of the morning getting fired up over other people's incompetence. Could have really used the Savasana I learned the night before in yoga. Unfortunately, I think someone might have called security if they found me laying like a corpse in the middle of my cubicle aisle.

A couple days earlier Scott told me we had been invited to share some box seats at the Palace Theater, but he couldn't remember the name of the show. Details? Pshaw.

Turns out it's one of the Broadway Series shows Next to Normal. The lead actress is the original performer that won the Tony for it. I heard in Pittsburgh her understudy went on because she was "resting her voice". She should have kept resting. The remaining cast was great and I loved the show, despite the depressing topic.

What it did manage to do, was get me back in the mood for musical theater. Here are my top 10 shows I would like to see, most of which I already know the music, that is how sad I am: Wicked, Miss Saigon, Hair, Jekyll and Hyde, Sweeny Todd, Les Miserables, Spring Awakening, American Idiot, The Book of Mormon, and Catch Me If You Can.

Phil, notice no mention of the great ticket debacle.

How did I spend the day after the day after my birthday?

Took my time getting out of bed and dropped the girls off while I was still wearing my pajamas. I love that.

Spent the morning having the great debate over what movie we should see that afternoon. Pretty sure we haven't seen a movie together since my birthday last year when I picked The A-Team, because I am awesome like that. This morning it was weighing the pros and cons of The Hangover 2 or Bridesmaids, occasionally reading reviews from other movies that hadn't even been on our radar.

Apparently the new X-Men movie was getting great marks, but I was kind of X-Men-ed out and was still a little miffed that I had missed seeing Thor (it was only showing in 3-D at something like 10 in the morning).

Took our debate on the road to Lucky's Cafe where we have never eaten, but have always wanted to. Had their home made berry soda and the grilled cheese of the day with cream of tomato soup. Perfect for the crappy weather that was pouring down on us. Since we got there at 11, we had no wait. So yes, it was everything they say and more. We purchased two cupcakes to go.

So which will it be? Hangover or Bridesmaids?

That would be Super 8.

I had first said no, because I thought it was some chiller horror movie, but then I got intrigued, because Scott showed me it was PG-13 and Steven Spielberg produced it. So I read a review and it quickly moved to the top of the list. Very happy with the decision, because I'm glad we got to see it in the theater as opposed to watching it later at home. I believe I told someone that it was a mix of Goonies, E.T., Stand By Me, and Close Encounters all on steroids. Throw in there Independence Day and that about covers it. And the kids were phenomenal.

Wrapped up the day with an Executive "Committee" PTA meeting...more commonly known as hanging out on my friend's porch, drinking beer, eating buffalo chicken dip and chocolate chip cookies.

So there you have it. And that's not even counting how I spent my weekend: soccer game, pool, grad party, daisy scout family picnic, and Game of Thrones shocker (or would have been a shocker if I didn't always read ahead for spoilers). Has anybody figured out how to slow their life down?

Ballet: A Year in Review

2011-06-06T21:04:00.004-04:00

Author's Note: I apologize for the length, but I wanted something to look back on to remember these days. And since there are days I can't remember my own age, I can't leave it to chance.

At the end of last summer, Morgan asked if she could take ballet. So I got all the information from the local dance studio.

Despite the fact that they seemed to be pretty strict about their dress code (must be in pink leotard, pink skirt, pink tights and pink shoes – hair in tight bun with no whispies), I had heard good things about the instructors and how much fun the year-end recital is.

Morgan balked at the bun, but I assured her that a bun would keep her hair from getting tangled just as well as braids do. Because, god forbid, your hair gets tangled. Ever.

I had the choice of signing her up for the 4-5 year old class or the 5-7 year olds. Since she had never taken dance and there was a very convenient class time on my day off, I signed her up for the former.

During registration, Morgan spots a table with trophies on it and comes to the conclusion that she is going to get one, so well worth the agony of putting her hair in a bun. ($20 Registration Fee and $45/month Lessons)

Next comes a trip to Footsteps for gear and a recommendation of how to get that much hair to stay on top of her head. I discover that the manager lives two doors down from us and we have a disagreement over what style of house I live in.

“Oh, you live in the Dutch Colonial.”
“No, it’s just regular Colonial.”
“No, that’s Dutch.”
“No, I don’t think so.”

Yes, this conversation actually took place, but it was really annoying that she wouldn’t admit she was wrong. It’s not f-ing Dutch. I know what Dutch is. ($80 Leotard, tights, skirt, shoes, hairnets)

The first class was in September, and I went with the suggestion of braiding a ponytail, swirling it in a bun-like fashion, wrapping a hairnet over it several times, and then bobby pinning it. Most of the crying came at the beginning, when I was brushing it into the ponytail.

This continued every Wednesday afternoon, until last week.

Our first lesson included two other little girls. One other girl had signed up, but did not arrive. After week two went by with no sight of her, the class should have been cancelled, but our fairy godmother Miss Mary Jo decided she liked having one class with just the three of them. Bonus!

There was also the joy of getting two children motivated to get ready and in the car at 1:35 in the afternoon. Right after lunch. Right before what should be naptime for the little one. Let’s just say there was often yelling involved.

This continued every Wednesday afternoon, until last week.

Mom conversation topics during the lessons included, but were not limited to: How much our daughters hate having their hair in buns, how glad we were to be in such a small class, how much yelling it took to get them to the studio on time, how glad we were to be in such a small class, how none of our daughter’s middle names were Grace, and how glad we were to be in such a small class.

And how many times Maureen’s house suffered from natural disasters.

The first of the year started efforts towards the year-end recital, including ordering costumes. Costume prices were based on your age, so she didn’t even have them picked out yet, but we had to pay for them. And thus began the mystical force of the recital. ($66 Costume)

We are later informed that music chosen is called Breezy Blossom and the three girls will be popping up out of flower pots to start the dance.

I think we all might have cried right then; it sounded so flipping adorable.

Around spring break time the routine is getting practiced and we’re pretty sure there is no way they are going to learn this thing in time, but slowly it comes together and we get to go in and video them, so they can practice at home.

I think we all might have cried right then; it was so flipping adorable.

The e-mails start coming. Instructions, guidelines, rules, proclamations, constitutional amendments. All around this damn recital. And then they hit you.

Order your tickets - $15/each.

Order your pictures - $57 package

Order new tights - $12

Order a DVD - $45 + $8 shipping (okay, so we are totally scamming the DVD thing, but that’s between you and me)

I then realize I might have a major snag and run into the office because my daughter is convinced she’s getting a trophy at the end of this. Thankfully, she was right, so crisis averted. I could just picture myself trying to fashion a new trophy for her out of glitter and duct tape.

More proclamations accompanied by what repercussions could results from not following all the rules. Dancers - not getting to perform. Parents - getting kicked out of the theater.

It’s finally the day of dress rehearsal. “Don’t forget to buy a show t-shirt.” Oh, no. No way. I have spent way too much on this extravaganza. Wait, those shirts say “Cast” across the back and every single flipping girls’ name is on it. ($20 T-shirt)

Rehearsal went well. The girls were so excited and they did a great job for only getting to run through the routine one time. They behaved like angels. (Of course hair was put in buns hours ago, so that doesn’t count.)

I gave Morgan her t-shirt as a surprise to wear to the show; packed a bag with paper, crayons, card games and blue eye shadow; dropped Zoe off with Uncle Phil and Aunt Michelle; and we actually arrived right on time. ($3 Program)

End result: Priceless
(This is only the dress rehearsel, because if we recorded during the actual show our hands would have been chopped off.)

Epilogue
Despite the fact that she loved classes and the recital and her trophy, Morgan has informed me that she does not want to take ballet next year. Huh?

A Relay for Life Poem

2011-05-30T22:39:00.005-04:00

Dedicated to all the awesome women of the Early Childhood PTA team: Emmie, Jenna, Chrissy, Jodee, Jill, Kim, Leslie, Heather, Shannon, Katy, Lisa, Jacqui, Emily (and I know I'm forgetting people, so I'm counting on others to fill in the blanks).

And it's also dedicated to everyone that showed up at our booth to support our fundraiser.

And it's especially dedicated to anyone who has fought against cancer.

I apologize for liberties of rhyme and meter.

'Twas the night of the Relay
and all 'round the scene,
Not a creature was stirring
except for our team.

The candles were lit
in their bags with great care,
In memory of loves ones
no longer there.

The other teams were nestled
all snug in their beds,
while visions of curly fries
danced in their heads.

But five of us moms,
in our sweatshirts and caps,
Had just settled in
for our overnight laps.

We couldn't believe
there was no noise or clatter,
And we searched the whole field
to see what was the matter.

Around the whole track
we searched high and low,
But couldn't help wonder,
"Where did they all go?"

Spotlights shone brightly
to light everyone's way,
But we were the only
team that had stayed.

And what to our wondering
eyes did appear?
But a long stretch of track
and five moms without beer.

Less rapid than eagles,
our laps stayed the same;
And we whistled and shouted
and called out our names.

On Emmie, on Jacqui
on Lisa, on Kim
Thanks to those walking
before it got dim.

And though only Lisa
was lively and quick,
We all did our part
through thin and through thick.

A buttload of junk food
we took out of our packs
That helped us get through
without any naps.

We spoke lots of words
as we went through the night,
And sometimes I wondered
if my shoes were too tight.

And just as Emmie and I
went to dose,
Katy showed up
and then the sun rose.

We sprang back to life
and our team gave a shout.
In the end, we were proud
that we had worked it out.

From all of the team
to our PTA peeps,
We hope you remember
"Cancer never sleeps!"

Clean Cup, Move Down

2011-05-19T22:38:00.002-04:00

I can taste the vegetables in V8's V-fusion Pomegranate Blueberry juice. Blechhh! Liars!

***

On-the-road punishment...does anyone make this work for their preschoolers? The other day, I had to run, on three separate occasions, to keep Zoe from running into three separate parking lots because she did not listen when I told her to "STOP!" Then I got to listen to her cry and whine that I forced her to hold my hand to the car.

Any punishment I dole out at this point has to wait until I'm home for enforcement (typically making her give me one of her babies or sit by herself on my bed without toys). But by the time we are home, she is being pleasant and legitimately angelic, so does she even realize what she's being punished for? I have a feeling I'm totally getting played here.

***

The DVD of Morgan's ballet recital is $FORTY-FIVE$DOLLARS$ plus $8 shipping. As I told the other moms, I could buy two Black Swan blu-rays for that amount. No way I'm paying $53 for 3 minutes of "Breezy Blossom" stage time. Everyone who isn't there will have to make do with the footage I shoot at dress rehearsal.

Thomas & Thomas is already making a butt load off of me, because I can't pass up a picture of the three blossoms all dressed up in blossomy sweetness together. And all I want is a 5x7! That's it.! I do not have the wall space for any more 8x10s, people!

***

We have a cat. I'm not sure how this happened. I blame it on Scott. Everyone already knows that I'm a sucker for lost pets. But he never even put up an inch of resistance. In fact, when he heard that the girls had named it, he offered to put a cat door in the shed and make it a bed in there. Huh?

So what's the name? It was a tough decision. It is not Mr. Fluffypants because it doesn't even look like Mr. Fluffypants, in case you were wondering (Phineas and Ferb are my heroes). Morgan gave us the unique options of Meow-Meow, Polkadots, or HoHo. Zoe and I unanimously voted for HoHo. There is no such thing as a sugar addiction, Melissa.

By an interesting turn of events, it is much easier to get Zoe dressed in the morning, because she is not allowed to go say "good morning" to HoHo until she has changed out of her pajamas. Winner: Mom.

Only downside - and it's actually funny to watch, but then I feel guilty - is that Potter cannot see her. So when she meows he runs toward the sound, only to bang into a chair or a car or a climbing rose arbor. I'm hoping at some point he is going to learn to just let it go. It's not worth the pain.

So if anybody out there reading this recently lost their cat...finders, keepers. (Just kidding...you know where I live.)

Author's Note: There is also a possiblity that it is the "fence" neighbor's cat and it just likes us better.

***

On the way to my parents, the late-afternoon of the Marathon. Out of nowhere.

Morgan: Mommy, I think I'm going to throw up!
Mommy: What?! (Scramble for the plastic bag that is lying on the floor of the Edge, which happens to be the kind of bag the grocery store puts frozen foods into before they put it in a regular bag. Now what is that doing here?)

While she did make it through the car ride there and back, she ended up puking later. Then, of course, came the loose bowel movements. And guess what the only children's Imodium flavor is? Mint. Morgan detests mint. I do not know why other than it is "too spicy".

I tried to help her get enough of a dose down, but I couldn't handle watching her gag. Brought back memories of the banana flavored medicine they prescribed to me as a kid when I had bronchitis. To this day, I hate bananas.

She stayed home from school on Monday and Tuesday. Was able to get through the AM on Wednesday, but it pooped her out (pun intended). Wasn't up for the ballet lesson, but by dinner time had perked back up and was back to normal. So we made it through and nobody else had gotten sick, so that was an added bonus.

....except Scott stayed home from work today because he was nauseous and had a fever...

The cycle continues.

2011 Cleveland Marathon

2011-05-16T15:12:00.002-04:00

Borrowed from Scott's blog:

Scott / Anna

4:30 Alarm goes off. My head is not in the race. Ankle is still store with my first step out of bed. I tell myself to remember the mantra from my last blog. Oh, and I take two Advil. More to come later on that topic. Off to the Shower.

4:30 Definition of insanity. Since at some point in the wee hours Zoe has joined us, I switch to Scott’s side of the bed to get some breathing room. I find that he has already set the alarm for me. Where is the trust?

4:45 Out of the Shower. Body Glide time for all those special parts that may chafe. Running close on time and the great debate begins as it has gotten considerable colder since I went to bed. Long sleeves or Tri top?

5:00 Downstairs for breakfast. My traditional breakfast of banana babyfood, Cliff Bar, part of banana and some sports drink. Start doing a little stretching.

5:00 to 5:30 Many trips to the restroom to rid myself unnecessary weight.

5:30 PK comes to my house to go to the race together. It is seriously cool outside and there is some even more serious fog. Cut through the flats and we are in the parking lot in no time.

6:00 Long Sleeves or Tri Top and arm warmers? I get out of my car and am immediately cold, so I make the gut reaction to wear a long sleeve running top. First mistake.

6:15 PK and I walk down to Browns Stadium for the start. BTW, props to the Browns for opening the stadium for the use of the facilities and shelter from the weather. Nerves are starting to kick in looking around at the crowd and the fact my dang Achilles is still sore. One more stop in the bathroom and even with all the bathrooms open there are still lines. Much nicer than port-a-potties.

6:15 Alarm goes off. Ugh…if I have any plans of getting in the shower, I cannot hit snooze. If I have any plans of people standing next to me…I have to shower. Morgan wakes up just as I turn the water off so at least I get to skip that argument.

6:40 PK and I make our way to the start line. The corrals were a little tight, but worked out fine. We find the 3:20 pace leader who happened to be the same person (Jay) from last year, which I was psyched about. Great pace leader. I didn’t recognize his co-pace leader. More to come later on that topic, also. Stretching is in full force now.

6:55 National Anthem and “Cleveland Rocks” song – which Cleveland can let go at any time and find a replacement – n o disrespect to Drew Carey.

7:00 The gun goes off and the chaos of 19,000 people leaving the start line begins. PK and I are immediately separated. My good pace leader has disappeared and the great salmon swim begins to catch back up. This is also when I realize the course I said I was not a fan of was going to make itself known. I catch back up with the pace group by about Mile 1, after steadily climbing hills for a mile. I am beginning to settle down, but my Achilles is in major pain. Fitness-wise I am loaded with energy and now completely focused on running. That first mile was a sub 7 pace to catch back with the group.

7:05 We leave our house. On time. I have made a deal with Zoe that she can stay in her pajamas until we get to our first spectator spot. I have packed a thermal sack with water, Capri Suns and a Zero. I have packed a bag with Zoe’s clothes, children’s books, coloring paper, markers, How to Ditch Your Fairy, the Lady Gaga edition of Bazaar Magazine, bags of goldfish crackers, fruit snacks, granola bars, wipes, two large blue recycling bags and the camera. I throw two lawn chairs and the umbrella stroller in the trunk to join the blanket. I cannot even begin to tell you how impressive this is.

Mile 2 Concept of time of day has disappeared. I am feeling great (except for my Achilles) and feel like running a little faster than my pace group. I surge ahead and I am running at 7:10 per mile. PK catches up and is running lights out with me. Cruising into the Edgewater area. Love the crowds in this area of town

7:15 Pull out of McDonald’s with two McGriddles, a Bacon, Egg and Cheese bagel, three hashbrowns, two apple juice and one orange drink (their orange juice is too pulpy…blechhh).

10K I am still ahead of my pace group and running strong. PK has dropped off the pace. His knee will not hold out. Knowing I am in for the long haul on a bad wheel, I decide to cut back my pace and rejoin my pace group, which happens a little after mile 7.

7:30 Get off and West 25th and head to Scranton, pulling ahead of the aide station and race turn, so it is no longer between me and downtown (again, I’m surprising myself with impressive skillz). Park in front of a questionable house, but less than a block away from the police officer, so we’re able to eat our breakfast and get Zoe changed. Less the 10 minutes later the pros are heading our way (Jesus, that is fast.) Barely a light mist at this point. Morgan pushes Zoe’s stroller and I grab the chairs and bag to find our spot on the corner of Mile 9.

Mile 7-9 Running well with the group. However, the thought the Advil was doing nothing had crept in, and my adrenaline was working on other things. This is also when the bad pace guy takes over the flag carrying duties and the good pacer takes a port-a-pot stop. Almost immediately bad pacer jacks the pace up to 7:10 miles, which is 28 seconds faster then his designated pace and the group is being decimated. I am hanging but the added pressure is not helping and now I am getting pissed. In the back of my head, I think he going to slow down, so that his partner can catch up. No dice. Ten miles and we are now consistently running 7:10. My ankle is now throbbing and the thought of calling it a day at the half is going through my head. Note to the bad pace leader: the word pace is defined. You may want to look it up.

8:00-8:45 You don’t realize how fast people are actually running until you are trying to pick out faces. I knew no less than 10 people running the half marathon and was on the look out. I didn’t even realize it was Scott until he was practically in front of me, thus the picture from behind. I can confirm the bad pacer at this spot, because I noticed he was practically on top of the 3:10 group. We waited. Morgan’s best quote of the day. “It’s hard to look for Uncle Phil, because there are so many bald guys.” (I swear I didn’t teach her this, and I don’t think he’s bald.) As we finally give up to drive down town, I look up and catch Gregg rounding the turn, who despite allegations of being completely un-prepared, manages to call out hellos to the girls without any effort whatsoever.

Mile 13.1 I have made it here and laid down BQ half time. Maybe my best half time. Achilles is still killing, but the mantra from last blog kicks in and I keep running. Heck, I am halfway interested to see how things turn out. Then the head winds kick in and so does my grudge match with the marathon.

9:00 Me, queen of no sense of direction, gets the family downtown through the plight-dredged streets of Cleveland. The parking garage I had planned on was closed, but I easily made a correction. On the walk there, I force the girls to take a pee break at the Hyatt (I know a really nice public restroom in the basement there from my E&Y days). We casually make our way along the half-mile finish course where I finally spot another friend, or rather she spots me and waves (Go, Shannon!). The precipitation is getting a little heavier now and the temperature has dropped drastically. I should have worn a coat instead of sweatshirt, but the girls are actually dressed okay and we have the blanket. Nobody is even complaining about the walk.

Mile 16 My pace has dropped off a little. The dehydration of taking 6-8 Advil a day for the last two weeks has also started and now I’m fighting cotton mouth and some muscle issues. The good pace leader and I have rejoined forces around mile 15 and were still cruising a little ahead of the 3:20 pace. (Editor’s note: Scott is being modest here, because he told me later that he and his fancy watch helped out a big group of people and he became the un-official pace setter and cheer leader for a big gaggle of them for quite sometime before coming back upon the official guy.)

9:15ish Closing in on the Rock Hall and see Coach Patty (Morgan’s soccer coach) who has finished the half and walking back to her car. Grab a spot to sit for a while and wrap the blanket around the girls, but know for certain we cannot stay here for an entire hour (if he is actually keeping pace, which I believe is next to impossible with that ankle). It is too cold and the wind to brutal. Yet if we walk toward the stadium, it is a mad house and by the time we get settled there, we’ll have to come back if we want a chance to see him. Decisions, decisions.

Mile 19 This is where my race began…or shall I say…fell a part. I was starting to hit the wall. My Achilles was not going to let me stay with the 3:20 guys much longer, and I am starting to cramp from dehydration. Thank science for gels, because they were a lifesaver at times on this run. By mile 20 I had hit the wall on many fronts of cramping and pain, but I had still managed to get there in about 2 hours 33 minutes. My new goal based on my grudge match was just coming in under 3:30.

9:45 Find shelter (and a bench) up against the Rock Hall. In fact, it completely cuts off the wind and the now-steady drizzle. The girls are in great spirits and take out the coloring supplies. A half-er in shorts and a tank top makes her way to the shelter, waiting for her ride and I offer our blanket, because her shivering is making me cold. (Again …definition of insanity.) I enjoy some pop and fruit snacks and read a very small amount of my book.

Mile 22 Life is sucking. I have had to walk for about 30 feet and mentally I was fighting on every level. Back to the mantra and a new one which was “just keep running.” Just keep looking for the city and just keep running.

Mile 24 Fighting my way over the wall. Had some periodic walking, but still was managing under 8:00 minute miles when I was running. The grudge match goal was in reach.

10:15 Head down to the curb. The drizzle is back to mist and the girls pull out the garbage bags to sit on, letting me wrap myself in a blanket. Morgan and Zoe start up the chant, “Go, Daddy, Go!” for about ten minutes, which must have made the people wonder exactly how many daddies they had.

Mile 25 The realization that I had pushed my way to the finish had begun to set in, and I was happy about that. Plus, I knew I was going to see my girls soon, and that would make whatever portion of the race was left much easier.

Mile 26 I see Anna, Morgan and Zoe cheering at the Rock Hall. I run over and give them all high fives and cheer for them, since they have sucked it up in the rain and wind for hours now and cruise into the finish. I stop my watch at 3:28 and change, but closer to 3:29. I am satisfied with the time considering the conditions, my Achilles and all the other factors. After that stuff, I was only about six minutes slower then my pace last year.

10:30ish I think Scott shocked the girls by coming over for high fives, which made them very giddy. Well worth the wait. Started to walk towards the finish line and probably kept going a little longer than I should have before turning around. There was just too much madness to be able to try to find him and now it is legitimately raining and I sense a breaking point for the girl’s patience. Zoe is looking soaked at this point. So when we get back to the car, I let her change back into her pajamas and she is ecstatic.

11:00 I am so cold I am now shivering uncontrollably and can not find the girls in the rain and wind. I decide to call it quits and hope they do the same. I head to the med tent for a foil blanket and walk to the car. Call Anna and she has done the same.

11:30 I am heading home to let the stiffness set it in and EAT.

11:30 Heading home along the path of the race course and talking to Scott on the phone to get the scoop on the ankle situation (I know. Shame on me). There are literally hundreds of shirts littering the road after being discarded by the racers. Scott had a good suggestion that some organization should follow along after the race and pick them up to sell or give to clothes banks.

Overall: Another good race put on by Rite Aid and the sponsors. Huge props to Anna and the kids for supporting Dad through the journey. Props to the volunteers and all the spectators who braved the weather. This was a mental battle with the marathon and I got through it.

Sorry, I missed everyone else. Way to go Colleen, Kim, Beth, Lindsey, Meghan and John. I honestly don’t know how you do it. My legs cramp up when I take the stairs to the cafeteria.

Tri season next and maybe a trip to the doctor.

5th Annual Kentucky Derby Party

2011-05-11T10:41:00.003-04:00

Another Kentucky Derby has come and gone. If anyone thinks weeks and hours of preparation for an event that takes a little over two minutes is crazy, you are not alone. There may have been a few moments last week when the words "Is it too late to cancel this thing?" were definitely uttered.

Not sure why this year seemed so difficult for us, but I have a feeling it all leads back to the crappy weather we've been having and dreading that we were going to have seventy people jammed into our house (not counting crying infants).

Up until two hours before people started showing up we actually were going to go purchase a patio heater to go with the one we were borrowing from Scott's parents. Then changed our minds because it had been so pleasant. Then kicked ourselves because it started to cool off again.

In the end, when it comes together and everyone is having a good time, it is all worth it.

Oh and there was the small confusion of me thinking I had it starting at 4:30 and the Evite actually said 4:00. Woops. Don't think too many people noticed that Scott was still in the shower when they showed up. Sorry, Altens.

Speaking of them, shout out to Paul for all the trouble he went to to get extra hats for the party and then I never forced anyone to put them on. Note for next year. If you show up without a hat, you are wearing one of his fancy thrift store finds. Don't say I didn't warn you! It's no longer going to be optional....I'm not kidding. You may think that I'm kidding...but I'm not.

For the past couple of years I have wanted to do sack races for the kids, but we kept having such wet springs that the back yard is never dry enough. Enter the spring of eternal rain, crushing our hopes again, until we thought...hey, we have a front yard. We spend so much time in the back, we always forget we have a nice front yard that doesn't reduce to a bog at this time of year.

So the races were on, and (I think) a success.

Colts and Fillies, 4-5 Years - Winner: Nick of Time from Mitchell Run

Colts and Fillies, 6 Years and Up - Winner: Marlo Brandon from Mitchell Run

(Yes, there has been an inquiry into performance enhancers at Mitchell Run)

Colts and Fillies, 2-3 Years - Winner: Avatar from DeMooy Country Club

(although there's been a lot of contesting due to the fact she wasn't actually jumping, but somehow managing to run while wearing a pillow case.)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KZCDg5RwpUM

So here it is by the numbers:

5 hours to come up with Sack Race program (never on company time, of course)

1 vacation day

15 minutes to fix the back fence that the neighbors have been complaining about

2 of their rugs still lying out back by their pool

101 times ask ourselves where we will put everybody if it downpours or is only 40 degrees outside

1 day before party our new roof is completed

49 adults

20 children

3 infants

1 dog locked in our bedroom that peed on our rug

30 pounds of pork shoulder (dry rubbed and shredded)

1 full sheet of Fragapan's cheese pizza

4 cases of beer

5 bottles of wine

1 economy size bottle of Maker's Mark + 6 bottles of water + 3 bunches of crushed mint = my cool new dispenser full of Mint Juleps

1 person that actually likes Mint Juleps

1 bite of summer sausage rolled in cracked pepper = 2 glasses of wine to wash it down

1 and 1/2 hour late, enter Joe Koval

1 sundress + 1 pair of ear muffs = Morgan's amazing fashion statement

19 horses = 38 popsicle sticks = 2 draws of Animal Kingdom = both drawn by the hosts = first time we have EVER won ANYTHING at our own party (sorry)

3 cubic feet of sand outside of the sandbox

4 items left at our house by the Kerbers

1 garbage and 1 recycle can pushed to maximum capacity (pretty sure both have garbage AND recyclables)

2 hour nap on Sunday afternoon

To whoever made the garlic dipping sauce for the yummy bread...I love you....Scott does not.

To whoever made the other dipping sauce (also 50% consumed by yours truly) for the equally yummy bread...I have your bowl.

To those of you with which I never got a chance to hold an actual conversation...there's always next year.

Physical Fitness Update

2011-04-28T20:42:00.002-04:00

You may be surprised to hear that I've actually kept up pretty well with my exercise class commitment. I've missed a few here and there, but tried to make up for it by jumping on an elliptical or stationary bike. Good news is, my pooch hasn't gotten any bigger. Looking forward to the weather improving so we can take yoga class outside.

And speaking of yoga...my most impressive accomplishment? I did a headstand! I haven't done a headstand since Sunnyside gymnastics in 6th grade.

Monday was the last "ballet" class since Lindsay is deserting us to instruct water aerobics, which I will happily watch while the girls are taking their swim lesson. I can report that my gracefulness factor raised exactly zero points and I still felt like a heffelump during the actual dance portion, but I think my bar work improved. Maybe? I did get yelled at for not having my leg high enough this last time.

So I need to find another class, but in the meantime, Lindsay also started teaching a cycle class at the same time as Turbokick and has been trying to lure me away. Since I'm no more graceful in Turbokick than ballet, cycling does sound like a more appealing option.

The first time I was going to go, Zoe decided not to take a nap that day. And when she doesn't take a nap, she turns back into Devil's Spawn, which I don't feel is appropriate to subject the nice girls at Kid's Club to.

The second time I was going to go, I walked in and Lindsay wasn't there, so I grabbed a towel and walked back out to join Turbo (recall my fear of new things). Turns out she was in Columbus that day, running with some nut that runs across the United States and yelling at the governor's wife. She might be partially related to Scott.

Last night was try number three...

I pulled a bike out and that's about as far as I could get on my own. So she came over and showed me where to position the seat and how to change the gears and such. I probably should have been paying a little more attention to that part but I was too busy fearing this mechanical marvel and wondering if anyone had ever fallen off one in class.

It is for this reason that when we started climbing first thing (meaning out of the seat, standing on the pedals) I may have had my gear a smidge too high for my level of experience. I think it was supposed to be a three minute climb and I made it about 20 seconds before having to sit down, wondering what the hell was wrong with me.

Considering it was a 55 minute class and I already can't breathe, have turned beat red, and have sweat pouring off me; I'm contemplating the humiliation of stopping after 30 minutes...if I could even make it that long.

But then I began realizing that my problem was I had no clue what gear I should have started at. (Disclaimer: She did say something about beginners being between 4-7, but when she was telling the class to gear up, I was thinking that meant exponentially. My bad.) By the time I hit the 30 minute mark, I had come to some sort of epiphany and knew I could push through for the full 55. Thank god.

So how do I feel?

Anticipating it getting worse during the day, but for the moment it's merely the vague inclination that my legs weigh 100 pounds a piece. I might think it was worse if my crotch didn't hurt so damn bad. I mean really...they can invent an iPhone but not a comfortable bike seat that doesn't make wish you could spend the entire next day standing? And this is coming from a girl who has spent at least a third of her life riding horses.

I'm probably going to find out I was sitting wrong or something, and it's my own damn fault, but for the moment I'll blame it on the bike.

Wondering if I could go raid a maternity ward for their miracle ice pads to put in my underwear.

Starz "Camelot" vs. HBO "Game of Thones"

2011-04-21T18:21:00.002-04:00

I’m in fantasy heaven while Starz and HBO battle it out to capture the same audience. The following contains a lot of spoilers so if you had any intention of watching these, you've been warned.

In Summary
Camelot is loosely based on the rise of King Arthur and is historically accurate for the period and geography, regardless of whether Arthur himself is fact or fiction. On the other hand, both Merlin and Morgan practice sorcery. So in that regard, it is still of the "fantasy" genre.

Game of Thrones is based on a fictional world which looks almost identical to medieval times but seems to have a large variety of cultures (though mostly British accents) within an unfathomably limited square mile area and some zombie-like creatures on the attack.

Gore Factor
Camelot has had a lot of death, but not a huge amount of bloodshed with two notable exceptions. One of these exceptions is King Lot spearing Sir Ector in the gut and Ector walking forward on the spear, plunging it deeper and deeper until he gets close enough to Lot that he pulls a dagger out and stabs him the back. Best. Death. Ever.

Game of Thrones seems to favor decapitation, which just appears way too fake for me. Not that I've witnessed any decapitations in my life. It could very well look like that for all I know.

Winner: Camelot (if you're going to kill people make it look real)

Incest Themes
You would think that Camelot would have this wrapped up with the whole Morgan and Arthur relationship (they are half-siblings, but in the legends have a child together through a mistake of "enchantments"). But Game of Thrones stepped it up a notch when 10-year-old Bran comes across the Queen getting it from her twin brother. But wait there's more...because certainly that's not shocking enough...they also threw in some weird thing going on with an exiled Lord and his sister that he is selling off to a warlord to get his aide in winning back his throne. Sweet.

Winner: Camelot (I prefer my incest a little less overt)

Regular Old Sex
Speaking of sex, you can't have a show on HBO or Starz without it. Often. And I find myself saying that Starz has been almost tasteful in it's nudity in Camelot. The makers of Spartacus: Blood and Sand. Shocking, yes? But if it's gratuitous boobies you want, turn right on over to Game of Thrones because there is plenty to go around for all of HBO, Showtime and Cinemax combined. Some of it just doesn't even make sense, but maybe that's just because I'm not as fascinated with bouncing orbs of fatty tissue...or silicon.

Winner: Camelot (because I'll take Leontes’ ass over 1000 prostitutes’ boobs any day)

Plot
Didn't think I was going to get to this, did you? So Camelot had a wealth of material to turn to from classical literature to modern fantasy, which they are clearly choosing to ignore. And though the average viewer probably doesn't give a crap, I would like...just for once...it doesn't seem too much to ask...for someone to tell the damn thing the way Tennyson or White or (and this is saying a lot for me, because it is mind-numbing) Mallory intended. Just once. If I pretend that this isn't about Arthur and Merlin, but rather too other people with the same name...it's pretty good. And they get two bonus points for doing the two most important scenes justice (pulling the sword from stone and retrieving Excalibur from the "lady in the lake").

Game of Thrones is the first book in a series that I never read, so right away it has that going for it. It's still a little confusing how the kingdoms are connected. Plus, there are multiple story lines to keep track of. But seeing as it is the first episode and I'm already drawn in by a couple of them, I anticipate them coming together more by the next episode. Particularly, the exiled princess Daenerys that was married off to some savage, the obviously honorable Stark household and their dire wolves (particularly the young tomboy daughter), and just who the hell these zombie things are.

Winner: Game of Thrones (clearly I'm biased)

Acting
I do not like the kid they got to play Arthur. He has not grown on me. At all. Compounded by the fact that they aren't making his character very sympathetic at the moment does not go over well with me. Joseph Fiennes as Merlin leaves me hot and cold. When he's being sarcastic, I like him. When he's being crazy sorcerer guy, he's over the top. Not thrilled with Gawain who I really want to like so maybe he's the one that will grow on me. I do like Kay, Gwynovere and Morgan. And the one person I shouldn't like (because he doesn't exist in the legend) ended up my favorite character - Leontes (and not because of his butt). He does an excellent job as the king's champion and recruiter of knights. Of course, if they end up revealing that his real name is Lancelot, I will give up the show in total because that is just wrong.

This is what I have come to expect from HBO. Even when I don't like the shows that much, they do an excellent job casting. Sean Bean (Lord of the Rings, Troy, The Lightning Thief) is the perfect choice to center this around. And while I have a great dislike for many of the characters, I'm pretty sure that is intended and a sign that they are being played brilliantly. (From what I can tell in one episode.)

Winner: Game of Thrones (I am having a tough time getting past my Arthur fixation)

OVERALL WINNER BY WEIGHTED AVERAGE:
Game of Thrones (but I'll keep watching Camelot until they piss me off with the Lancelot thing)

Clocks, Trains, and Pekingese

2011-04-15T16:02:00.002-04:00

No this isn’t one of my normal ramblings…this is a Memorial to my Great Uncle Speed. Great in all aspects of the word.

AMHERST – Ludolf "Speed" Norman Kreeger, Jr., 87 years of age, and a resident of Amherst, passed away Tuesday, April 12, 2011 at New Life Hospice Residential Center in Lorain following a lengthy illness.
He was born November 7, 1923 in Amherst, Ohio. Ludolf was a lifetime resident of Amherst and graduated from Central High School in the class of 1943.
Ludolf served in the United States Army during World War II with the 8th Infantry in the European African Middle Eastern theater. During his service in Germany, he was awarded the Purple Heart medal.
He was employed as a sheet metal worker for over thirty-five years at A. Nabowkowski, D.L. Page Inc. and then T.O. Murphy before retiring in 1985. Ludolf was a member of St. Paul Lutheran Church in Amherst.
He was a member of the Lorain DAV Louis Paul Proy Disables American Veterans #20 and the Lorain Amvets.
Ludolf was a gifted craftsman and enjoyed making wood clocks and calendars. Ludolf was an avid college football fan, especially of Ohio State University.
Survivors include his wife of sixty-four years Evelyn "Ev" Yvonne Kreeger (nee: Kirschner); his beloved dog Bandit a Shitzu; many nieces and nephews and many great nieces and great nephews.
He was preceded in death by his sisters Connie Turner, Betty Kreeger, Sally Loch; and by his parents Ludolf, Sr. and Candace Kreeger (nee: Werner).

Uncle Speed and Aunt Evi didn’t have any children of their own, but to our branch of the Kirschner clan (Aunt Evi being my grandfather’s youngest sister), they are loved as dearly as parents and grandparents.

Growing up, one of my favorite treats was spending the night at their house. To them, I am “Annie” and they taught me how to play Chinese checkers and quizzed me on state capitals. We always ran out for “frozen custard” even though it looked like soft ice cream to me. And at the end of the night they pulled out the sleeper sofa in the great room and I had a whole king-sized bed to myself.

After I graduated and took a short-term gig delivering mail (Yes, I was a postal worker. Explains a lot, doesn’t it?) Whenever I had their route, I ate my lunch with them, listening to Paul Harvey’s “The Rest of the Story.”

Uncle Speed was a big man. Well over 6 feet and much larger than life to a scrawny runt like me. It kind of always felt like he should have been a lumber jack, as I still picture him in a red and black flannel shirt and suspenders. He had a fabulously deep voice, but was always smiling and ready to laugh.

And of course he loved John Wayne. He practically was John Wayne to me. That’s what we watched when my parents would take us over their house for a movie night. And while, I don’t share his and my mother’s passion for The Duke, The Cowboys is one of my favorite westerns of all time; and the first time I saw it was with him.

But maybe what I remember most about him were all the things you wouldn’t expect by looking at him.

While most people remember the fact that he made clocks, what I remember is just how many clocks he had in his house and each and every one of them had a distinct chime. I also suspect that he purposely set them just a little off from one another so they weren’t all singing at the exact same moment. To imagine hands at least three times the size of mine doing all that work is astounding.

He also loved model trains. I don’t remember how many he ended up with, and over the years he put less and less of them up each year until only one stayed out all year long, but when we were younger we made special Christmas visits just to see them. Some of the tracks wound underneath the sitting room sofas. Some were up on tables. I may remember a year when one ran from the front of the house to the back. He was an oversized kid at Christmas time.

And this is a man that should have walked beside German Shepards and Mastiffs but he loved his Pekingese and Shitzus. The first of their dogs I remember were Chin and Choo – two black Pekingese that wore matching red sweaters in the winter time and he taught to do tricks. Over the years, the puppies they brought home could literally fit in the palm of his hand, but there was no gentler person I know.

He’ll be missed, but remembered fondly.

“Sometimes it's hard to understand the drift of things. This was a good boy. He'd have been a good man. He didn't get his chance. Death can come for ya any place, any time. It's never welcomed. But if you've done all you can do, and it's your best, in a way I guess you're ready for it.” – John Wayne as Will Anderson in The Cowboys.

“Tomorrow is the most important thing in life. Comes into us at midnight very clean. It's perfect when it arrives and it puts itself in our hands. It hopes we've learned something from yesterday.” – John Wayne as himself

Words I'll Never Say

2011-04-13T09:51:00.003-04:00

Disclaimer: This is just a rant...I don't actually hate my neighbor, and by the end of reading this you'll probably think I'm the crazy one, but certain things just get under my skin and fester. In reality, they are pretty nice and often extend the invitation to come over and swim in their pool anytime.

Disclaimer 2: They also keep talking about selling their house, so I promise if one of you moves in next to me, I won't post nasty blogs about you.

Scene: Last fall while cleaning up debris, pruning back landscaping vegetation and otherwise making the yard presentable for the winter dormancy.

Crazy neighbor: Did you realize your fence is broken?
Scott: I noticed the lower rail is pulled away from a couple of the slats when I trimmed our shrubbery back there.
Crazy neighbor: Well, I wanted to make sure, because I wouldn’t want your kids getting through and falling in the pool or your dog coming over.
Scott: Well, the ground is too hard for us to do anything with it right now, but it’s really not big enough for our kids or dog to get through anyway. We appreciate your concern.

On the other hand, your yippy little pain in our ass could easily squeeze through the four to six inches it is pulled away and get chomped into bits by our St. Bernard who (a) can’t see said hole because his is BLIND and (b) has not, in fact, learned how to alter his genetic make up to pass through said hole because he weighs 140 POUNDS.

And it may surprise you to know that we didn’t see that the fence needed repaired because we have actually landscaped our back yard and planted tall privacy grasses next to the fence so we don’t have to look through it and see your crap hole, which may a may not be decorated by an area rug you drug out of your house and draped over your patio furniture two months ago after your dog crapped all over it.

Three Things That Have Me MORE Concerned for the Safety of My Daughters

1. That a gust of wind will pick the peeling paint chips up from your front porch and blow them into their unsuspecting mouths.
2. That they will receive a contact high from the amount of weed your kids (I assume) smoke in your back yard during the summer.
3. That you will run them over while attempting to leave your driveway in a raving lunatic rampage. I’ve seen you go through your own yard, and I don’t think the hedge would be able to stop you for going through ours.

Scene: This weekend while out getting beds ready for new mulch (used to keep weeds down and general aesthetics) by removing old leaves (that blew over from someone who must have inadvertently forgotten to rake their leaves last fall).

Crazy neighbor: Are you going to be able to get your fence fixed soon? I wouldn’t want the girls to get through and fall into the pool.

Okay, we are going to fix the fence because on the chance that my kids eat crazy pills and decide to bust the rest of the way through, mistake the pool for a solid surface and then forget everything they’ve been taught in swimming lessons and drown, I’d feel pretty damn bad.

However…

(a) It’s not my responsibility to build a fence around your f-ing pool.
(b) You are benefiting from our desire to keep you out of our yard.
(c) We could rip the whole god damn fence down and you couldn’t stop us.

I’ll tell you what. We’ll fix our fence when you grow grass in your front yard – real, actual grass. Not the burnt out mound of dry strands mixed with random clumps of clover and dandelions that has inhabited your landscape since two winters ago. How about that?

God praise Marty Moose! Pass the Tylenol.

I Want To Ride My Bicycle

2011-04-05T20:07:00.002-04:00

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Something is broken on my blogger, causing me to actually have to type in the HTML command for all my line breaks. I am not a happy camper.

So of course the one thing that Morgan specifically asked for her birthday was sold out. So of course it now costs three times as much on Amazon...ARRRGGGHHH!

In related news....

Scene: Morgan riding her bike while I push Zoe in the stroller up to Walgreens.
Mommy: You are way too big for that bike now.
Morgan: I know. I need a new bike very soon.
Mommy: Well, maybe Daddy will have to take care of that.
Morgan: He should take care of it for my birthday.

Too smart for her own good.

Incidentally, part of the problem was that Scott had lowered the seat so Zoe could sit on it in the driveway, so it wasn't as bad as a I thought.

On Saturday, Scott hunted around for a new bike. Came away with a very cool, very girlie Schwinn cruiser, but left it in the care of Performance Bike to put training wheels on it.

On Sunday, I went to pick up the bike and was notified that no training wheels will actually fit this bike. After talking with the guy, he and I agreed that it would be best not to have training wheels anyway, as it would prolong her learning to ride without. She did, after all, teach herself to pogo stick this winter. How much harder could it be to ride a bike?

I suggested to Scott that we let someone else teach her how to ride it (kind of like my friend taught me how to drive, so my dad wouldn't yell at me and my mom wouldn't gasp and brace herself against the dash every five seconds, pumping her imaginary brake). His response was that his dad taught him, so he would teach her. With that kind of "can-do" attitude, I give it 10 minutes before one or both of them is in tears.

It may surprise you to know that I never had training wheels. Me. Well, there was a bike with training wheels in the family. (It was green. It had normal sized tires, but they weren't rubber. They were the same composition as Big Wheel tricycle tires that ended up cracking open so they had duct tape wrapped around them. Duct tape.) But that is not how I learned.

After we had moved to "the country" when I was in third grade, I had no use for a bike. We had a very long driveway, but it was gravel. And we lived on a state route with semi-trucks passing by every 2 minutes, thus I wouldn't have been allowed to ride on the road. So a lot of time passed sans bike.

Suddenly one day...and at first I told Scott junior high, but now I'm thinking maybe it was a little earlier - perhaps fifth grade...Dad came home with a bike. Can't remember where said bike came from, but it could have possibly been a trash picker moment for him. It was also green but had a big black banana seat. It was the 80's, people. What can I say?

Anyway...this is a time in my parent's life when they had yet to accumulate mounds of old furniture and exercise equipment in their basement and we had a relatively large (but industrial) area to play in. And since the chimney went up the center, it was perfectly set up for roller derby.

Charlie and BJ (his best friend) would get on their Huffy bikes and Tina (my best friend) and I would put on roller skates (mine had metal wheels until I grew into Tina's old pair). John would be on his little black trike and we would race in circles as fast as we could.

1. There was a narrow spot in this track where the furnace took up more than half the space, so absolutely only one person could fit through at a time at the record-breaking speeds we were traveling. That's not saying we didn't try many times.

2. At almost the exact same spot, Dad chose to place a gi-normous box of extra heating duct work. I mean this box was almost as tall as I was at the time. Because you don't get rid of extra duct work, you keep it in case you decide to put an addition on your house twenty years later.

Guess where I learned to ride my bike? I got myself into a pretty good rhythm but would occasionally get going a little too fast and since I had no idea how to use the brakes, I would let myself crash into the duct work box instead. Hey, at least I wasn't crashing into the furnace.

The moral of this story, I did not break any bones learning to ride my bike, and I pretty much suck at everything...so I have high hopes for our first born.

P.S. Uncle Matt or Uncle Justin should totally be on standby the next time they are home.

Take One Down, Pass It Around

2011-03-23T12:42:00.006-04:00

Michelle: So would you be willing to host the Beer Tasting adult outing?

Me: Sure! No problem! Happy to do it!

I know some of you have been holding your breath, wondering if I any secret party fouls would be revealed, but what happens at the Beer Tasting stays at the Beer Tasting...mostly.

Me: Michelle and Melissa want to know how many couples we'd be willing to have.

Scott: I don't know....25.

Me (in my head): No f-ing way!

Me (out loud): How about 20?

Me (to Michelle): 15 -20

It was settled on 18 couples, because it matched the closest party favor quantity. I love it when a plan comes together.

I had my normal day off on Wednesday, worked from home on Thursday (because there was no way I was going downtown on St. Patrick's Day), and took a vacation day on Friday. That should be plenty of time to get ready for people on Saturday.

Actually...it was.

I even screwed around a little on Friday while I was supposed to be out looking for an extra lamp for the living room (Ended up getting two. Curse you, Target!).

Melissa dropped off the beer in the afternoon. I cleaned out my entire kitchen refrigerator into the garage refrigerator (now aren't you glad we got that second fridge) and loaded 154 bottles/cans of Irish variety brew into my fridge.

Around midnight I gave up trying to write a verse of The Night that Paddy Murphy Died on my chalkboard and settled for a 12-word rhyme instead.

The Big Day

5:45 AM I know this does not surprise you, but Scott got up and ran 18 miles. I mean...why not?

6:45 AM Zoe got up because she had leaked through her pull up and her pajamas were soaked.

8:30 AM Scott comes back and informs me he watched the moon set on his run out and the sun rise on his run back. Look how much he accomplished by 8:30! I got all the beds made by 8:30! Yay, me.

Anyway...by the time the Kerbers and Altens show up for prep time we are actually ready. Scott was even out of the shower!

7:00 PM craziness starts.

Since the Turtles were previously engaged and the Leo's have had their fair share of grandkid watching recently, we decided to ask my soon-to-be step niece (also named Morgan) to come keep the girls occupied upstairs. (Girls have been told they are not allowed to come downstairs under penalty of death.) Only catch is that she has been at a volleyball tournament all day and literally arrives with the guests.

There is a bit of insanity around the initial arrival period - coats being taken, beers being given, babysitting instructions laid out. But luckily, Scott and I thought of the great idea to put a portable clothes rack on the second floor landing and Phil was in charge of that part. And yes, there is a very specific reason why I'm calling that out.

7:10 PM first beer is spilled. (I won't name names.)

7:20 PM ruckus on the landing. I look up to see Phil struggling because the clothes rack has given out under the weight. I watch helplessly as Phil sets his beer on the window ledge only to watch it slide right off. (Yeah, 90 year old houses aren't very level.)

I yell to Scott for towels and try to help hold up coats while wiping up beer. Scott arrives with some dishtowels and sets his beer on the window ledge to help. Not kidding. And if you are counting, that is beer number three spilled, twenty minutes in.

So coats get thrown on a bed like any other normal gathering at our house.

But that is actually the end of the mishaps. We grudgingly allow basketball to be turned on the big screen around 9:00 when it is clear several people will not be leaving the kitchen 12 inch-er unless we do.

So thanks to everyone who came and had fun! I don't think I've ever seen such great mingling, despite the fact that there were a lot of new faces. And thanks to the Melissa and Michelle for all their planning and organizing and taking my cocktail tables back (which I highly recommend renting for such events).

The award for last couple to leave goes to Lacie and Greg Ernst at 12:30 AM. Kerbers don't count because they are legally required to be the last ones to leave our parties.

And the babysitting award goes to "big" Morgan who I found curled up in the fetal position of the girls bedroom floor on Zoe's old crib mattress. Technically, Zoe was supposed to be on that mattress and Morgan in her bed, so I'm not sure who got talked into what.

Drunk award gets distributed to about 50% of the husbands, if not more. (And they make fun of our book club.)

The Month of Rain or What I've Been Doing for Two Weeks

2011-03-15T21:41:00.004-04:00

Lisa: "I'm so sick of this rain. Remind me not to honeymoon at Niagara Falls?"
Mother: "So you'll go to Acapulco...it'll be nice." - Dirty Dancing

Sidebar: It is scary how many Dirty Dancing quotes I have in my brain. I practically gave Scott a monologue when we did the dance lesson with PTA.

* * *

Morgan: Mrs. Noble is my favorite teacher.
Mommy: Who is Mrs. Noble?
Morgan: She's the librarian.
Mommy: Why is she is your favorite?
Morgan: I don't know where I would be without her.

The best part is, the other night we stopped at the school to pick something up. Morgan was up ahead of me and she held a door for a teacher coming out. When I caught up, she giggled and whispered, "That's Mrs. Noble."

So I ran back out to catch her and got to thank her and tell her what Morgan had said. She came over and gave Morgan a hug, which just made her day! Teacher of the Year in my book. Morgan goes in there with pretty specific requests from whales to Chinese New Year (no joke), so I applaud her patience.

* * *

I think Zoe is related to Buddy the Elf. Every five minutes..."Mommy, what's your favorite color?"

It's gotten to the point that she asks the question and answers it in the same breath. "Mommy-what's-your-favorite-color-pink."

I might also note how much Scott loves to be asked this question.

* * *

Time for me to go home: I just tried to feed the ATM $1.50 in order to get a Coke. In case there was any confusion: ATMs do not dispense liquid refreshments.

* * *

Background: The kindergarten class has "mystery reader" days. On those days, a parent comes in to read to the class. The teacher gives the class clues that eventually narrow down the students to the child whose parent is standing in the hallway.

Back in August I signed up for my day. Every week since, Morgan has said, "Gee, I really hope you are going to be the next mystery reader."

I signed up for March 8...apparently. It's really all a blur. I got a reminder note last Friday and made plans to work from home on the following Monday.

I was probably a little overly excited to see her face when she realized I was finally going to be there. Over most of the weekend I kept thinking about which book I was going to take...keeping in mind the length and trying to keep it gender neutral instead of making the little boys suffer through Ballet Kitty.

I showed up at the school Monday morning and signed in by the office, walking giddily down the hallway. It was right before the classroom door that I started to doubt myself.

Suddenly, MARCH 8 flashed before my eyes. Monday was March 7...not March 8. No, I was sure that the note said Monday...but...didn't it say March 8, too?

I stood in the hallway wondering what to do. I couldn't pop my head in. Morgan would see me. I couldn't go back home to check the sheet, because what if I was there on the right day and I was missing when she came to look for me.

Finally, the co-teacher came out of the room for some reason and noticed me there biting my nails.

"Umm, I'm a day early, aren't I?"

Her laughter gave me my answer. Yes, I was an entire DAY early. That's pretty good for me. It should be noted that they did offer to switch the class around to accommodate me, but I felt too stupid and guilty.

I should also note that I dug the reminder letter out of the recycling and nowhere on that form was the word Monday like I had imagined. It simply said March 8. Period.

Ugh, I had absolutely no excuse to fall back on. But as Scarlett says, tomorrow is another day.

Author Note: It was definitely worth the drama to see her beaming face when she came out in the hall to find me.

* * *

My first attempt to participate in the Early Childhood PTA resale event.

My original plan was to systematically go through the house room by room - top to bottom - locating every infant item that I no longer used, thus creating cavernous pockets of space in my storage areas.

The weekend before the resale I managed to get up in the attic and rummage through enough stuff to get myself stuck up there when I tried to come down the ladder and it slid out from the wall.

Luckily Scott was home, so he came to reposition the ladder and then decided to take a gander at the attic situation as well. And that's when the ladder fell again. (My dad helpfully suggested we tie a rope to the ladder the next time. Thanks, Dad.)

Now, you may remember we did a basement purge a while back and threw anything we thought we would take to the resale into giant black Hefty bags that I would organize and clean in the weeks leading up to the sale.

So on Friday I hauled those hefty bags out to the Edge and through them in the back.

Anyway, with lots of help from Michelle (shout out), I did get things cleaned up and organized in my space that night, realizing one big thing...I needed to find more crap to sell. That night I hit the game and puzzle closet, the downstairs nook, my bathroom closet and some bookshelves. So the next morning I was a lot happier, until I came to the realization that I WAS SELLING ALL MY BABY STUFF!

But I'm over it...mostly. And I made a $285 profit. Well, as long as you don't count how much I bought all that shit for in the first place.

Blackout 2011 Edition

2011-02-27T14:00:00.004-05:00

One week ago, we walked the girls down to the lake as another wave of wet snow was coming in. Just a short visit to get us out of the house on a Sunday afternoon to shake off the remains of Mommy's hangover.

As we walked back, the wet snow was starting to turn to sleet. Little did we know...

Monday morning I groggily register that Scott is getting ready to go to the gym at some god awful 5am-ish pre-butt crack of dawn. Potter groans a few times, rubs his face on the carpet and settles back in to snoring. I vaguely notice wind pounding against our "vintage" windows.

All I know is that it is President's Day, so Morgan has no school and rush hour traffic should be lighter. Might as well not even dream of getting up before 6:45.

I hear Scott go outside to start the car and open the gates. I hear Scott come back inside. I hear...nothing. All the white noise we take for granted has vanished. No faint lights from the alarm clock, cable box, or Morgan's four night lights.

Power is gone.

I'm informed that everything is covered in a couple inches of ice. Hmm...sounds like "work from home". Make that not dream of getting up before 7:30.

But that would mean Zoe had suddenly stopped being a "morning" person. So I was actually up in plenty of time to see that butt crack.

Cut to two hours later...

In some cosmic twist of events, the sitter's power never went out. Despite the fact that their own tree shed a quarter of its weight into the "mean" neighbor's yard and took out a power line or two. So the girls are shuffled off and I head to find free wi-fi.

Panera...hmm...looks like everyone had the same idea. Barnes and Noble...much better idea. Except my employer firewalls and wireless settings make it a virtual Fort Knox of a signal. After a couple personal tech support texts that offered no support, I finally figure it out on my own and I'm off and running.

Responding to e-mails and instant messages...grabbing documents I need off my server...drinking my expensive Starbucks hot cocoa. It only stands to reason that 15 minutes later the power goes out.

Yes. It does. I wait.

Nope, not coming back on. Well, maybe if it is out here, it came back on at home. I know that my in-laws got it back already, so it's not a crazy idea.

Nope, not back on. But I can see the mess we left behind in the morning and the house hasn't lost much heat yet, so I decide to stick around and take some time to tidy up. And also pack some overnight bags...just in case.

Head to the library...I can get Internet, but if I try to get into my Lotus Notes the damn thing kicks me off my network, so it's pretty slow going for me and I'm regretting my decision to stay close to home and girls. When the lights start flickering at the library, I give in to taking a sick day. It's around 2:30.

I let my mother-in-law know that I'm going to grab the girls swim bag from home and have some lunch and then we'll be by for a visit. Decide I might as well grab the overnight bag, too...just in case.

We pull in Nana Turtle's driveway at 4 and are told that she just lost her power again. No joke. But who needs power? The girls draw pictures, we get Morgan's homework ready for the next day, Zoe sets up her infant daycare...then we head to the gym.

One of the perks of Five Seasons' former life as a "country club" is that they still kept their bar area. So after swim lessons and showers, we eat dinner and watch TV (which had mysteriously landed on Nickelodeon, so I'm pretty sure I was not the only parent with this idea).

Scott and I took turns working out, and got our showers in, too.

Coming home, I couldn't help but notice all the houses with lights on. Some of those bastards had even turned their Christmas lights back on in an effort to flaunt their consumption of electricity.

"Look, that store has power...and that store has power...these all have power!" exclaimed Morgan as we drove past the Walgreens plaza. But Mommy could see the darkness to the north. No traffic light at the lake meant no beacon of hope illuminating our doorstep.

As we prepared to hunker down in front of the gas fire that incidentally exists in our coldest and smallest room of the house, we get a text from Nana that they just got their power back. So the girls and I leave Daddy and Potter to the hunkering and we head off for heat, beds and television!

Although, my heart is heavy, knowing that my DVR is missing Pretty Little Liars and Greek.

Things aren't very much better in the light of the next day, and we head off to school, daycare and work with little hope, knowing that we could very well not have power until the next day. The entire mile walk from garage to work was filled with hateful thoughts that just dared anyone to try to talk to me before I got my laptop booted up.

But all's well that ends well. We returned home to power and I can just imagine the people that were still in the dark driving by our house that night, cursing at us. As I let Potter back inside for the last time, I began turning lights out. Every light out. Because we had subconsciously turned and left on every...single...one. Inside and out. Top to bottom.

Don't worry. Karma came and bit me in the ass, because on Thursday I left my car lights on all day, too. Guess what happens when you leave your car lights on the entire time you are at work?

I'm pretty sure that it took all my co-worker's will power not to make fun of my damsel in distress moment, so I thank him for that and his jumper cables and his ability to use said jumper cables and for never mentioning that he had to drive halfway across the city to help me, because I decided to splurge and park close to work that day. (Obviously a shout out to Joe, who won't read this anyway.)

Winding down with another snow storm on Friday seemed to top everything off perfectly...we have a mini-half pipe out of snow in backyard that the girls used their saucer sleds on it for a good hour. A family of snowmen in the front yard. Snowmom and Snowdad letting Snowbaby get shockingly close to the street.

And so ends another saga.

Days of Wine and...More Wine

2011-02-21T13:38:00.001-05:00

Friday night was PTA Book Club, and I think we had a new record in that all of us in attendance had read at least a portion of the book! Of course, only six of us were there…oh well.

More importantly, we didn’t run out of wine this time.

And then we confirmed once again that we all do the things that we feel guilty about doing so there is no reason to feel guilty about doing said things. And our kids are not freaks and we should stop questioning our parenting skills to much. And spring recreational soccer is rigged.

Saturday night was PTA Adult Outing and if you are getting here via Facebook you may already realize that there was a lot more wine consumed. I guess that’s what happens when you first stop is The Wine Room.

Then we went next door and learned the basic steps for Salsa and Swing dancing. Jen and I are in agreement that Phil was the best dance partner (so what the hell was he so worried about?). None of the husbands commented on us though, which is probably for the best.

I, for one, am just happy there weren’t any mirrors.

It seemed to be over really fast and we didn’t have any casualties; so really, people…get some balls and come out with us next time. What good is an adult outing if you can’t look like an ass in front of the people whose kids your kids are going to eventually date?

After only two mis-sent text messages, I got myself into bed. Of course, even though the girls were at my mom’s I still had trouble sleeping in due to headache and dehydration. Totally worth it.

What wasn’t worth it was going to Yoga.

Bejan was not there and his substitute did not get the memo that I don’t like to flow quite so quickly through my poses; and by the way, I’m a beginner, so you are lucky I can even come close to Downward Dog and Pigeon. Don’t be throwing all these random balance poses at me that I haven’t even heard of, let alone attempted. Jeesh.

He is apparently going to be out next week, too. So I will get the opportunity to find out if I really I am this bad, or my equilibrium was just way off from the night before.

After I managed to forget to put an entire stock pot of excellent corn chowder (I’m talking award winning) in the refrigerator and thus ruining it, I fell asleep at around 9 PM. Yes, I am old. Bring on the March beer tasting!

Loves Me...Loves Me Not

2011-02-14T22:28:00.003-05:00

I awoke from sweet, gentle repose this early morning to the heaving and retching of Potter throwing up the pieces of rug he has eaten...loves me not.

Scott volunteered to go downstairs and clean it up...loves me.

No Cherry Coke Zero in the vending machine...loves me not.

Yvonne brought in donuts to celebrate her long awaited return from the Far East...loves me.

Three control testing validation meetings on my calendar for today...loves me not.

One rescheduled, which meant I could leave work early...loves me.

One ran 30 minutes longer, which meant I couldn't leave as early as I would have liked...loves me not.

Despite only having an alleged 5 miles worth of gasoline remaining in my car and for some reason not bringing my purse to the gym, manage to get home and to the gas station without having to coast...LOVES ME.

***

I like Valentine's Day, because I can compare how well Morgan writes her name to other kids in her class. (Nice mom, huh?) She's getting better, but I am no longer hovering, so there was many an "a" and "n" that appeared backwards on her own cards. I figured that is my present to the other moms out there. "See, that girl can't even write her name properly."

***

Technically, Scott and I are planning a long weekend trip as our Valentine's gift, but that did not stop me from getting him something I knew he cherish with every fiber of his body...a soup ladle. We didn't own a soup ladle. I don't know how that is possible, because we (and by we, I mean Scott) make soup all the time. Now we won't have to use our measuring cup to scoop it out. Best. Present. Ever.

***

Getting out from the shower I suddenly couldn't remember where I took my glasses off. Since I'm almost blind and my upstairs looks like Potter ate all our clothes and then threw them up again all over every inch of space, I spent at least 10 minutes looking for them. Have now made a commitment to wake up when Scott does tomorrow in an effort to regain control of my laundry situation. Worst. Present. Ever.

5, 4, 3, 2, 1

2011-02-11T19:04:00.003-05:00

5 Things That Gross Me Out (Dirty Cup Edition)

Large clumps of lipstick left on coffee cups. Blot, people...blot.

When Scott spits gum out into a cup in his car and then a week later brings said cup into the sink to be washed and it is stuck to the bottom. (Yes, I realize I have never told you this.)

When I forget to wash my work mug before I leave for the weekend, particularly if I didn't quite finish the hot chocolate I made in it.

The cup holders in my car that have an unidentified stickiness to them that can only be found in "mom" cars.

A sippy cup found under the couch a month later. Multiply it 100 times if it has any remnants of milk in it.

4 Things That Made Me Want to Cry This Week

The reading of the Declaration of Independence before the Superbowl...because our country is sadly far from what they intended.

Former Early Childhood PTA presidents that attended Founders Day and talked about looking at the same kids they knew in preschool getting their high school diplomas...because I am not ready to think about that.

Morgan's book that she dictated to Thea about whales and then illustrated...because I don't want her to ever stop loving whales they way she does now.

Fabio kicked off of Top Chef...because he is my favorite. "This is Top Chef, not Top Scallop!"

3 Things That Made Me Laugh This Week

"Hide" and seek with the girls...because their idea of hiding is very different than mine.

Sue Sylvester trying to shoot Britney out of a cannon.

A stick drawing I saw of how much Southerners enjoy snow, which might be vaguely similar to how Northerners enjoy it. (I think you can click to enlarge.)

2 Things Potter Ate This Week That He Shouldn't Have

1/4 of the throw rug that is in his "cave" in the back hall.

The rest of Zoe's Lunchable, including packaging, that was left out by mistake on the coffee table.

1 Awesome Movie Quote Made by My Boss Today

"1 point 21 jigawatts!?!?"

Which I can't decide is more or less funny when you know that what we were talking about was materiality thresholds on financial statements.

Dirty Cups

2011-02-02T09:59:00.003-05:00

"100 packets of ketchup!" (Big Daddy)

Morgan's class will be celebrating their 100th day at school on Friday. They were asked to bring in a collection of 100 things for the special day. Sound easy, huh?

Mommy: Why don't we count out 100 pieces of sea glass from your jars and put it in a nice new jar? (A collection she actually has and a damn fine idea, in my opinion.)
Morgan: Or maybe I can bring 100 barbies?
Mommy: You don't have 100 barbies.
Morgan: How about 100 books?
Mommy: How are you going to carry 100 books all by yourself? Let's think a little smaller.

Problem with this assignment: Morgan wants to bring in something cool, not paperclips, as the homework suggests.

We compromise and take pictures, 10 at a time, of her stuffed toys to glue to a poster board ("just like Megan [soon to be step-cousin and most recent idol] used for her project"). And I'm sorry to say, we have over 100 stuffed toys in our house.

10 pooh bears (not counting Pooh Bear Blanket)
20 penguins
10 sea mammals (not counting Beluga)
10 zoo animals
10 cats and dogs
10 bedtime friends (counting Pooh Bear Blanket and Beluga)
10 Disney characters not already categorized
10 animals found on a farm
10 story characters not already classified

Morgan took all the pictures herself. I managed to crop Zoe out of at least 3 of them.

"Crimey, we're jimmy-jacked!" (Night at the Museum: Battle at the Smithsonians)

We do not have kids that memorized the state capitals and presidents in alphabetical order by age 2, so it's always a little surprising when one of them comes up with a nugget of info that I never outright told them.

Last fall I bought a chalkboard for our dining room, because I saw it looked really cool in a magazine.

It doesn't look quite as cool in my house. (I'm working on it.) Morgan would prefer that I just let her do all the decorating, but I stubbornly refuse to let her use my toy.

This weekend I changed the quote for the upcoming President's Day and, as usual, Morgan stood over me salivating. To distract her I asked her if she knew any names of presidents.

Morgan: Ummm....
Mommy: Remember when we went to Washington for Daddy's race and saw all the monuments.
Morgan: Oh yeah, I can picture one...I just can't remember his name...he was big and white...he was your favorite...and he starred in Night at the Museum.
Mommy: Aaaabbbbeeee
Morgan: Abraham Lincoln!

Moral of this story: Kids listen.
2nd Moral of this story: Kids listen better when you put it in a movie.

"God wouldn't have given you maracas if he didn't want you to shake them!" (Dirty Dancing)

Just a small update from the world of fitness.

Most hated words in yoga: Now we move to challenge pose.
Bejan (after adjusting me in some tortuous way): You feel the difference?
Me: Of course I feel the difference, this way hurts more!

In an effort to lose Heffelump status in ballet, I wore a black (slimming) tank top that was less form fitting. In order to do this I had to raid my maternity clothes! Not sad...not sad at all.

No More Monkeys Jumping on the Bed

2011-01-22T19:44:00.003-05:00

Speaking of bunk beds...okay, so I was speaking of them in my head because I was again going through the really fun process of changing the sheets on them...I'm reminded of my excellent bunk bed story from college.

I'm pretty sure this is exactly how it happened.

FACT: I had a "job" at the stables to reduce the Equestrian Team fees I (read: my parents) had to pay.
FACT: Said job had to be completed prior to 7:45 am when students showed up for their 8:00 am lessons.
FACT: I had no car and it was a LONG walk to the stables, so Susan and Asuka picked me up at 5:45 am every weekday morning.
FACT: It's cold at 5:45 am.

SITUATION: Thursday night (must have been at a party, because there is no way I could have been this drunk from underage consumption at a bar) I mysteriously make it into my top bunk.

ACTION:

In the wee hours of the morning, suddenly awake and realize the alarm has been missed. Creep quietly from the top bunk so as not to awaken anyone else...or maybe jump/fall off the side, perhaps kicking Joni in the head.

Proceed to put on sweats over whatever outfit I went to bed in. After all, it is cold outside. As a matter of fact, it is really cold. Probably need more than sweats, so what else should I put on quickly....hmmm...ah, perfect solution, the sheet from my bed.

Ever so quietly, with lightening speed, remove the sheet...or maybe pull and tug so hard that the sheet AND the mattress fall down on top of me.

Wrestle the sheet off the downed mattress and wrap in toga style around my body. There may or may not have been an ignored roommate intervention at this point.

Trip over the mattress on the floor, race down the three flights of stairs, and run as fast as my toga can carry me to the parking lot.

Silence. No sign of movement anywhere. They must have gotten tired of waiting and now I will have to walk the mile and a half. I'm obviously dressed inappropriately for this and head back up to the room for more suitable gear.

Trip over my mattress and finally hear Allison's voice through the fog telling me..."It's only 3:30, go back to bed."

Climb up and realize mattress is still on the ground, hence the tripping.

Climb down and stare at mattress to decide how to get it back up.

Give up and collapse onto the mattress.

One hour later, suddenly awake and realize the alarm has been missed...do you see a pattern?

The Saga Continues

2011-01-18T19:54:00.002-05:00

Okay, I'm not going to turn this into an exercise blog, but...

I did it. I managed to take two more group exercise classes.

I should note that my secondary goal in exercising (after getting a less-squishy pooch) is better posture. I have horrible posture. When I see myself in pictures I always think if I had just put my shoulders back I would have looked 10 pounds skinnier. But damn, that takes a lot of effort.

And I will take an “I told you so” from my dad, who constantly told me to sit up straight as a kid (and thus I defiantly slouched over whenever he wasn’t in the room). Lessons from a man that wore a back brace in high school. Maybe I’ll try reverse psychology on Morgan and Zoe.

On Sunday I took Hatha Yoga, which was different than other yoga I have done. In the past I’ve done something closer to “power” yoga which accelerates your heart rate because you move through poses repetitively and fairly quickly.

It was led by an older Frenchman named Bejan. I’m pretty sure he asked us to call him BJ, but his accent was so thick I don’t think I’ll be referring to him by name any time soon. I told Scott he looked more like somebody who just got off the Tour de France than a yogi.

I liked the class, but I definitely can’t “quiet my mind”. I tried, but all I could focus on was the woman on the other side of the room that sounded constipated.

Every time we entered a pose, “OhhUgghh.”

Every time we came back to center, “Ahhohh”

Bless her heart, she looked to be in her 70’s and I’m not holding it against her or anything, I just could not help but be distracted.

It reminded me of the ashram in “Eat, Pray, Love” where Liz would go to the meditation room to empty her mind, and all she could think about was how she should put a meditation room in her own house and how she would decorate it.

And it was 90 minutes…90 minutes of exercise…90 minutes of quieting my mind…90 minutes of not yelling at the kids. AH HA! Sign me up.

The last class I chose kicked my ass more than the other two combined.

It was called Studio Workout. “15 minutes of stretch and warm-up. 20 minutes of leg and arm strengthening at the bar. 20 minutes of aerobic dance.”

Ballet. Actually, it’s Ballet For Old People Who Should Not Be Taking Ballet. And that bar is not the bar I’m used to strengthening my arms at.

In theory, I love this class. It made me sweat, but didn’t kill my respiratory system. I got to listen to music from Phantom and Les Mis and The Nutcracker the whole time. I got to learn fancy French words to use on my yoga instructor.

And I really do like it. Really. I just have one thing I need to get over. I never have, do not currently, and never will look like this girl when she dances.

She is a AA size 2, light as a feather and graceful as a swan.

I am a foot taller, 36C top and size 6 (okay, 8) bottom, and can barely do a jumping jack without falling on my face. Don’t get me wrong…I know I am a very normal sized person…and I don’t have a completely whacked out self-image, but…

I look like a woolly mammoth next to her.

This is no joke – a frickin’ woolly mammoth.

I just couldn’t stop looking in the mirror and thinking, "Woolly Mammoth" and “I am not built to be graceful” and “Why did I wear this outfit?”

But I do think I have come up with a solution. Next Monday I am not going to wear my glasses.

Prepared for Battle

2011-01-13T23:17:00.003-05:00

I'm not really a New Year's Resolution sort of girl. Mostly because every week I tell myself I'm going to do something different. Whether that is spend more time with the girls, make lunches before bed, or stop eating so many damn oreos.

And it usually lasts about a day. Which is to say, if I were to wait a whole year to start over, I'd be in big trouble.

So even though I did go to a group exercise class yesterday, it's not really a resolution. Just a response to the fact that my jeans were getting tighter and I really don't want to buy new jeans. And then there's the fact that we have a club membership that Scott uses extensively and the only times I have gone in the last year are to take the girls to swim lessons. It's economics.

Two years ago I asked for a few personal trainer sessions as my Christmas present and I had a bit of a routine, but eventually I stopped pushing myself as hard as the PT had told me. Which only confirms the fact that I lack self-motivation.

I knew if I was in a class I would be forced to work harder.

Three problems with that:
1. I don't like people watching me.
2. I don't like to do new things.
3. I don't like people watching me do new things.

My choice of classes for Wednesday evening were Pilates, Turbokick, Cardio Circuit or Hatha Yoga. I would have been all for the yoga, but I had already decided I was going to try that class on the weekend, since there weren't any convenient cardio classes that looked appealing at that time.

There was no description for the Cardio Circuit available, but the very word Circuit sounds too complicated.

I really would like to try pilates, but this class was being held in the "Pilates Room" which meant they'd be using the pilates machines instead of just the moves and such. Basically, take my three problems above and multiply them buy 10 when they involve any sort of external equipment.

That leaves Turbokick, which is kickboxing on aerobic steroids. So you will have to give me that I didn't exactly pick the easiest way to enter the world of the physically fit.

But I used to do a boxing workout (from the comfort of my living room) in college, and I figured at least I would know the upper body moves. Jab, Cross, Uppercut, Hook. Pretty easy when there's no one punching back at you.

Guess what. When you add footwork and jumping jacks and a lady yelling in a microphone, it's a lot harder than boxing. There are surprisingly few actual kicks in the class - not that I'm complaining - but a lot of bringing your knees up really high when you punch.

And she gave us the option of occasionally doing "air jacks" instead of regular jacks at certain points, which basically looks like a cheerleader's spread eagle jump a bunch of times in a row. I did not choose that option.

Amazing part - I didn't do that bad. I thought for sure I was going to have to quit halfway through, but I just stopped bouncing quite so much for a while and was able to catch my breath.

And the instructor was a tiny powerhouse of energy, but not bubbly - excellent marks on that front.

Headed home through the arctic cold, where Scott gave me a small look of concern that my face was still so red. It was pretty red. I think I might have a slight oxygen intake problem. It was a good two hours before I returned to my normal pasty-white self.

I'm a little sore in my shoulders and hamstrings, but considering I thought there was a possibility of needing a wheelchair today, I'll take it. Bonus is that I can now include a roundhouse kick in my self-defense repertoire. I'm bad ass.

So any other five season members who want to take this class with me...I'm pretty hooked.

Back to Reality or Week 1 in Review

2011-01-10T20:27:00.002-05:00

1. Last Monday, Zoe woke up in the middle of the night and insisted on joining us, which meant I had exactly 10.5 inches of king-sized mattress to lay on from about 1:00 - 6:00 a.m. Not conducive to the sleep that is needed before my first day back to work after over a two-week vacation.

2. It's a good thing I didn't spend much of my vacation time analyzing the data I was given for a last minute project an hour before my vacation started, because in a fortunate twist of events, they did not need it. Score!

3. I need to stop stalking Facebook. I keep having dreams with random high school classmates making guest appearances. And I mean RANDOM.

4. My new staff officially started last week and that makes me officially ancient, as I am officially old enough to be her mother. That's not true. Well, it might be biologically true, but I wasn't doing things like that at age 13.

5. I also need to stop playing Soduko on my nook. I had it charging at my laptop in case I had a chance to read at lunchtime and it taunted me all day. I could just play one quick game...,nobody would know...I could stop whenever I wanted.

6. In my on-going quest to read as many Young Adult fantasy books as humanly possible, I have been enjoying Rick Riordan's Percy Jackson and the Olympians series. So I borrowed The Lightning Thief movie from the library.

Portraying the gods as giants is NEVER going to look right no matter how good your special effects are?
Although Sean Bean (Zeus) and Kevin McKidd (Poseidon) were perfectly cast, how could you leave out an entire MAIN CHARACTER? I mean, you might as well have left out Pierce Brosnon as the centaur (clearly the most miscast of all of them) if you aren't going to include Ares, god of war. COME ON, PEOPLE!....
...otherwise a thoroughly entertaining movie.

7. Morgan is still lice-free, according to the recent school check where they actually made her take her braids out! If you didn't know, Morgan is VERY particular about her braids. I mean psychotically particular....she doesn't even let Nana do them. But this woman who, according to Morgan, had never braided hair before got a giant stamp of approval from my OCD 5-year-old. Unfortunately, Morgan couldn't remember who it was. So I will send this thank you out to all the random lice-checking moms, because this is definitely one of those cases where I am happy I "work outside the home."

8. In Morgan's journal center, she had to write what amounted to a New Year's Resolution that would be some way in which she would help out around the house or with the family. Morgan said "I will mak mi lunch." So now I have to let her help make the lunches, which I thought couldn't possibly benefit me in any way until I came to the conclusion that it will force me to pack them the night before because the idea of having to get through that in the morning with her is altogether unappealing.

9. Week one of the basement purge is over...I have what equals three drum liner Hefty bags of stuff going to the curb (before we get limited to those new nifty trash cans in March), 3 more bags and one super large plastic tote of potential items for the re-sale, and my entire trunk full of clothes and bedding for Amvets. This does not include the 2 kitchen trash bags full of stuffed animals that I had segregated prior to the holidays for donation. And yet, our crawl space is still full. I do not understand how this happens.

10. And for the miracle of the week...Morgan learned to pogo stick...kind of. She asked for a pogo stick for Christmas, for god knows what reason. Nana Turtle found one with an extra wide base for beginners and Morgan tried it out on Wednesday night in the basement.

First, she just wanted Scott and I to hold her up on it and I kept telling her it wouldn't work that way and she wouldn't be able to go. So we did a few select pseudo-demos (because we technically are too large for this thing). I expected her to give up pretty quickly (she is, after all, my daughter). But damned if she didn't work her little butt off and managed three bounces in a row by the end!

There was only one instance where she fell backward and the stick kind of hit her in the nose. I quickly told her she was fine because there was no blood, which she accepted and got right back at it.

First of all...this is unprecedented. This is the same girl who drags her knuckles on the ground one minute into a soccer game and cannot manage to sit straight up in her chair long enough to write the letter "a".

Second of all...safety first. Before she attempted this, she put a stuffed chair shaped like Elmo behind her and announced it was her butt pad, which did come in handy. This is contrary to the fact that when she asked if she should wear helmet like the child in the picture her dad and I shrugged our shoulders..."ehhh, what's the worst that could happen?" We are also in contention for Parents of the Year.

Author's Note: This post was drafted over the weekend. As I was going to print, Morgan informed me that she had already contractually filled her obligation to pack lunches when she helped me last night. Didn't see that coming.

I Now Pronounce You...

2011-01-06T18:30:00.003-05:00

Morgan: Can Murray and I have a sleepover?

Mommy: Hmmm...Murray's still little, he might miss his mommy.

Morgan: No, I can sleep over his house.

Mommy: I have no response to that.

Morgan: Mommy, I have a funny story to tell you in the car...(now imagine a story told through a giggling 5-year-old voice)

Today I told the whole bus that I am going to marry Murray. And Addison said she wasn't getting married because kissing is gross. But Murray told me that he told his whole class he is going to marry me. And then...and I only did this because he asked me to...then Murray asked me to kiss him on the lips so I did. Isn't that funny?

Mommy: You are not going to sleep over Murray's house.

Note 1: Murray is 4-year-old boy at sitter's and I cannot hear his name without thinking of Gavin McCloud on the Mary Tyler Moore Show.

Note 2: Pretty much up until today Morgan has told me that kissing is gross, also.

First of all...yikes!

Second of all...the fact that I am not ready for this stage does not bode well for her tween years.

Here is a list of questions I will be asking Murray the next time I see him to determine compatibility.

Concern for the environment: How much wood could a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?

Appreciation of the Arts: "Yo Gabba Gabba", "Jack's Big Music Show", or "Fresh Beat Band"?

Humor: Woopee cushion or prat fall?

Earnings Potential: Fireman or Football Player?

Deductive Reasoning: How many taxi cabs are in New York City? (That's just there because my boss asks it in every interview and I think it is unfair.)

The Year of the Teacup Piggie

2011-01-02T19:07:00.003-05:00

(or What I Did On My Christmas Vacation)

Somewhat cool that my first post of 2011 will be my 101st post ever. Not really cool, I guess...a little interesting...okay, not really interesting either...

About the title...

Morgan has been telling me what she wanted from Santa since this summer. It revolved around a Pillow Pet and a "spy kit". The spy kit has something to do with (1) a boy at daycare and (2) my cousin Neil, but I had nothing else to go on in that arena.

This should not be confused with her Christmas Wish List, which was at least 2 pages long...single-spaced...8 pt font. Every page in the Toys R Us and Target catalogs was marked up at both our house and Nana's.

So, naturally, I was well-prepared this shopping season.

That is until Santa came to Crocker Park for a visit and we stopped in. The Friday before Christmas. All other shopping completed.

Santa to Zoe: What would like for Christmas?
Zoe: A baby...and a stroller for my baby...and clothes for my baby...and diapers for my baby...
Santa: Got it...
Santa to Morgan: And what about you?
Morgan: A Teacup Piggie.

WTF???!!!

Okay...not panicking...there was an entire end-cap full of them at Walgreens last week. I head out on Tuesday. None left at Walgreens...hmmm....head over to ToysRUs Express.

Me: Do you have any of those Teacup Piggies left?
Dude (holding back hysterical laughter): Are you f-ing crazy?? As soon as we toy stores figured out the kids wanted them, we pulled them from the shelves and started selling them for three times their value on Amazon through the guise of independent retailers.

Okay, so he didn't say that. He was actually very pleasant and wished me luck.

Fortunately, this story actually has a happy ending because the Teacup Piggie had also been circled in Nana Turtle's catalog and she had been on the hunt a couple weeks earlier with a final stop at Amazon. Teacup Piggie, I come to find out, was already wrapped and ready. Disaster averted.

We kept up with the tradition we started last year of gathering with friends on the 30th instead of New Year's Eve. This year we invited a few couples over to our house for appetizers and drinks and I'm happy to report there was no drunken texting to my co-workers as per the year 2009.

On the other hand...we played something called The Game of Things...which was only mildly entertaining until someone (and I won't name names, but I'm married to him) gave the answer "my testicles" and things went horribly obscene from there. Thank God!

I also had pictures to post of my first Easybake Oven experience, but I'm just too damn lazy to download them. It wasn't pretty. Trust me.

Since we had a random heatwave two days ago, Scott was able to take down all the exterior illumination, which means I can stop counting how many times the Santa blow mold falls off the porch due to the Arctic blast coming off the lake.

Things I didn't get to on my vacation:

Snow Days at Progressive Field.
Hanging all those pictures up that came down when we painted our stairway a year ago.
Sending Christmas cards. They are addressed, so I'm still going to send them. Screw it.
Sorting through the basement toys.
Potty train Zoe. A well-intentioned effort. Just didn't take.

On the other hand, I got to go to a funeral...so I got that going for me...which is nice.

Christmas Morning 2010

2010-12-29T08:20:00.000-05:00

Well, here you go. 15 minutes of high-pitched, five-year-old excitement. Which will probably only be entertaining to me and the grandparents. As of this morning, the girls are currently playing with the styrofoam contents of the cabinet we bought and put together yesterday.

It's a Folger's Christmas, Charlie Brown

2010-12-21T20:08:00.005-05:00

I'll admit it...I still get a little choked up when I see the commercial where the older brother comes home from college and wakes his parents up by popping back the plastic lid on a can of Folger's crystals...

...or how about when Ronald McDonald steps out of the snowy woods to make the little boy, left behind by the older kids, feel like the coolest kid on earth...

...and yes, I'm a sucker for a good ol' fashioned Christmas sing-a-long, whether it was hosted by Bing Crosby, Donnie and Marie, or Nick and Jessica.

Note to network television (and an extra special plea for Mike Valerino), bring back Jim Henson's Emmett Otter's Jugband Christmas. Not since Gift of the Magi has there been a more profound story about the gift of "giving."

And whatever happened to those lovely holiday greeting from your favorite sitcom ensemble? You know, instead of a commercial, the cast of Benson would be sitting in front of a fireplace wishing everyone a "Merry Christmas!" I loved those.

Today, I took my first stroll ever through Tuesday Morning and saw this blast from the past. I actually remember this Peaches & Cream Barbie doll vividly. (You could fashion the big huge ruffle around her in at least 100 different styles!) Now, I see that the package says 1985, but to me it screams late 70's. I think it always took Barbie a little while to catch up with the times back then. Nowadays, she's get the iPhone 5G before it's even on the market!

"I believe...I believe...it's silly, but I believe." - Miracle on 34th Street

So Many Re-caps, So Little Time

2010-12-16T20:05:00.003-05:00

Mounted New TV Over the Fireplace

Cut a giant hole in our wall 5 days prior to having my family over for "Cousin's Christmas". The hole was to run all the wiring from the TV to the components, as well as run an entirely new line of electricity from the breaker box.

In an uncommon-look towards the future, we bought every wire we could possibly hook up to the TV: 4 HDMI, 1 Cable, 1 Component (Red, Blue, Green), 1 Surround Sound, 1 PC video, 1 PC Audio, for a total of 10 wires, counting electricity.

Number of items actually hooked up to the TV? 2. Cable box and Wii (to be fair, we had a DVD player, but it doesn't fit in the cupboard we converted to a component box - which is cooler than it sounds).

Number of stores I had to visit to find all these items at a reasonable price? 5. Home Depot, Costco, Walmart, Target, and Best Buy.

How many Geek Squad members I had to play the helpless female to? 3.

All guidance suggested hooking the new breaker up in the daytime for the obvious reason that you had to turn off the main breaker to the house. We did ours at 9 PM after the girls went to bed.

Pretty much we have received flashlights for Christmas every year since being married - that would be 12 years. Number of working flashlights found? 0.

Scott turned his car lights on and pointed it in the basement window, then wore Morgan's LL Bean camping headlamp for the detailed procedure. Considering no one was electrocuted and all electricity came back on immediately...major success!

So now we have a giant hole in our wall to patch. Normally, not a big deal, but in our house there is a level of plaster on top of the wallboard which has a very random texture to it. Coat of paint went on the wall Saturday morning before the party.

Did we succeed? My dad asked where we cut the hole! Now, maybe he was trying to make us feel good about our project, but I'll take it.

Cousin's Christmas

Invitation time: 6PM. Aunt Charlie's arrival: 5:45PM. Classic.

How many people can fit in our kitchen?

Aunt Charlie rinsing shrimp (the wrong shrimp, because "Uncle Mike grabbed the wrong bag" for her) while Noah supervises;

Rebecca cutting organic apples grown from trees watered by carrying buckets from a natural spring and brie made from the milk of a free-range goat that sleeps on a bed of molted goose feathers;

Scott moving pizzas from prep block to oven stone to counter to serving plates;

Uncle Mike pouring Manhattans from a previously used plastic bottle of spring water that he brought with him from home (WoWo's - a flask might be an excellent Christmas gift!);

Jake exploding the 2-liter of ginger ale; my mom cleaning up the spill with paper towels; Dad holding his splinted hand over his head (surgery); and me yelling at everyone to get-out-of-the-kitchen-until-we-at-least-get-our-pizzas-out-of-the-oven-for-christ-sakes.

Okay, now it is actually 6 o-clock. Obviously, the Swigart's do not go for being "fashionably late."

Most sought-after item in the White Elephant gift exchange: Snuggie (with bonus gift of nose-hair trimmers)
Most inappropriate item in the White Elephant gift exchange: Jake's chin strap.

New colors for Christmas Cookie decorating icing: raspberry, olive, gray, navy blue, taxi-cab yellow, white and some shade of purple I'm not sure was around when Christ was born.

$#!* My Kids Say

Morgan (after seeing the commercial where the ocean life swims out of the television): If we had a 3-D TV and if Potter wasn't blind, then if he started barking we could tell him to stop because it's not real.

Zoe (after Mommy tells her she has to wait until Christmas to get the purse she picked out in Macy's...no joke...she was obsessed with this purse): I need to sit on Santa's lap.

Morgan: Paul and I are trying very hard not to dawdle in school.

Mommy: Do you think you are on the naughty or nice list?
Zoe (without hesitation): Naughty.

Mommy: What do you want to write in your letter to Santa?
Morgan: Do you think I should write that we have been good like he asked us to?
Mommy: Have you?
Morgan: Maybe we should say we are trying to be good like he asked us to.

Dear Santa,

We will try to be good, just like you said. It doesn't matter about getting presents, it's all about sharing and caring at Christmas (editor's note: I sense a little reverse psychology at play here). Mommy has been good, too. And so has Daddy.

Musical Beds

2010-12-07T21:29:00.003-05:00

Have you ever wondered what it would be like to change out a double-bed room to bunk beds and a nursery to a play room at the same time? Here's how it works.

First, you find bunk beds that don't cost you one of the children that will be sleeping in them. We got ours at an estate sale complete with mattresses, even though I said I wouldn't buy used mattresses because of the whole bed bug situation. I'm going to keep the jury out on that, because I don't want to jinx myself.

1. Dis-assemble and store the full-sized bed....and full-sized sheets...and full-sized bedspread, blankets, and mattress cover.

2. Assemble bunk beds. Purchase twin-sized bedding, which includes all the items listed above times two. Hint: you do not need to put both rails on the top bunk bed if it is pushed against the wall, because (A) it is redundant, and (B) it is a bitch to put sheets on. (I slept in the top bunk for an entire year of college and I know I did not have that much trouble putting sheets on it . Oh, because I apparently didn't worry about falling out in the middle of the night and cracking my head open.)

3. Purchase and assemble two dressers from IKEA because the previous furniture does not match the new beds.

4. Move dresser and vanity table from bedroom to nursery/playroom. Go through every frickin' toy known to man: Keep / Donate / Toss? Answer: 60% / 30% / 10%. Come close to doing yourself harm when you can't figure out where you are going to put it all and it isn't even Christmas yet.

5. Organize clothes to place in new dressers. Fill two bins of clothes for attic storage, bring the next bin of hand-me-downs in for little sister. While you're up there, re-organize the attic a little bit, you will have plenty of time to kill.

6. Take a break and assemble two dressers for your own room, so you can finally get the ten piles of clothes off the floor and actually give the appearance of being a grown-up.

7. Move the changing table from the nursery to the "master" bedroom to get the other five piles of clothes off the floor. Drop the cable box, so even though you finally can have the TV at a good angle to watch from bed, you will only be able to see things in black and white.

8. Move the crib into the middle of the playroom so you can organize around it, because taking it apart at this point is a sure sign that you're going to be pregnant next month.

9. Fill 4 nylon laundry bins with stuffed animals. Fill 1 big plastic container (the kind in which you used to place kegs of beer) with baby dolls. Fill another with dress-up/pretend play items. Determine how many pooh bears you can move to the "donate" pile or at least pass-off to the basement without a third-party noticing. Answer: None.

10. Determine you are, in fact, not pregnant and thus commission the dis-assembly of the crib to move to the attic. Store all nursery bedding and accessories.

11. Bring train table and rolling storage bins up from the basement to the playroom.

12. Remove all remnants of owning children from the living room by assigning toys to the playroom, bedroom, or basement. Okay, I haven't personally gotten this far yet. It's a stretch goal.

Did I mention that you should try to do all of this in one week while holding down full-time jobs outside the home? Because that is key.

Kalahari

2010-12-05T22:24:00.003-05:00

20 days till Christmas...7 days till "Cousin's Christmas" which I volunteered to host...a television to run electrical to and mount above a fireplace...cookies to bake....presents to shop for...might as well go to Kalahari for the weekend.

A month ago, friends of ours asked if we were interested in sharing a suite at this indoor water park for a night and we knew the girls would love it, so we agreed.

Saturday morning, Scott got an oil change in his car, ran to Home Depot for electrical boxes and to Dick's for a new swim suit, because for some reason he didn't want to wear his triathlon Speedo around the park.

Meanwhile, I packed suitcases, cleaned up the house (although my dog-sitting brother could probably argue on the cleanliness factor), grabbed snacks from Walgreens and bought a Christmas tree.

Yes...bought a Christmas tree. I have to get that thing in the house by Wednesday to have it decorated in time.

So we managed to get on the road by 1:30 and Kalahari is about an hour away.

I had forgotten the girls' flip flops, so I forced them to put their shoes on with their bathing suits, because we had what felt like a mile walk to the actual water park portion of the hotel, including passing through a major Chuck E Cheese-type game area. Of course Morgan wasted no time pointing out all the other people walking through the hotel barefoot. I throw up a little in my mouth just thinking about that.

And I don't know why I was also so disturbed about the number of people walking through the hotel in nothing but a wet bathing suit, when on the other side of the doorway everyone was walking around in wet bathing suits, but I was.

Two observations:

(1) The eight of us may have been the only people in all of Kalahari that didn't have a single tattoo.

(2) I apparently do not need to be so self-conscious of my slightly squishy tummy. (But I will keep it safely tucked inside my completely average full-piece tank swimsuit, thankyouverymuch.)

I was actually a little worried about my rudeness rage, which is only slightly less sensitive than my road rage. I thought for sure I would be at my strangling-point by at least an hour in, but it never even bubbled.

I don't know if it was because all the parents were slightly buzzed with alcohol (although I only saw one lady visibly drunk and it was when we went back down to the game room after dinner) or everyone was just happy to let life guards watch their kids for a few hours.

A note on the life guards: None of them looked any older than 16 and at least 50% of them looked like they had no desire to jump in and save someone, and I am trusting them with my life?

Either way, everyone pretty much kept to themselves so I have no good blog fodder. Damnit.

Oh, except that Jen and I scared the crap out of ourselves on the slides. We had let the guys take control of all four kids while we tried a slide on our own. We decided on the enclosed pair of slides where we would each take off from a separate one and come out somewhat together. But neither of us had considered how fast, or how dark it was.

I think if it had lasted any longer I might have had an actual panic attack. Yes, I am a wimp. (Did I ever tell you my skiing story?)

Otherwise...completely uneventful...in a good way. I highly recommend it.

See, Jen, I made it the whole blog without mentioning how many times you fell and/or dropped your baby!

Belated Thanksgivings

2010-11-30T19:00:00.003-05:00

I know you've all been patiently waiting for another installment of my so called life...I regret to inform you this isn't it. (But I have it waiting in the wings for my next post, which won't be so long in coming.)

1. My oldest brother is in a Coronary Care Unit due to some life-threatening (at the time) blood clots post knee surgery.

2. We awoke at 3 am last night to water dripping from our bedroom ceiling. Turned out to be a minor problem due to the massive wind (or so we are hoping), but unnerving none the less. I spent the rest of the night dreaming about rain pouring in all over the house.

3. There's been a case of head lice in the kindergarten classroom that will require me to pay close attention to Morgan's hair hygiene for the next couple of weeks.

4. My iPod has mysteriously gone missing.

I'm thankful for hospitals and doctors and CAT scans and blood-thinning pharmaceuticals and my brother's fiance for forcing him into the emergency room. I'm thankful Scott and I have friends and family with which to share holidays, health concerns, legal advice and Caddyshack jokes.

I'm thankful for our beautiful old house that keeps us safe and warm and looks great in retro Christmas lights and doesn't look like either house next to it. And that I have heat and electricity and water....and cable.

I'm thankful for our two children and all the germs, stray dogs, rocks, flowers, laughter, sand, acorns, birds nests, hugs, and head lice they may or may not bring with them; because that means they're alive and here with me. (And able to make the comment, "Look, there's a turkey strangling a pilgrim!" when we see a large inflatable from the highway.)

And I'm thankful for MP3 players where ever they are, but I'm also thankful I'm not opposed to singing Christmas carols and Glee soundtracks without accompaniment.

Homes for the Holidays 2010

2010-11-17T09:30:00.001-05:00

Saturday was our annual fund raiser for the Early Childhood PTA. The premise is a homes tour, and we try to have the home owners matched with decorators to create "holiday" themes in the homes to get people into the Christmas spirit....yada, yada, yada.

Basically, we coerce six to eight home owners into letting people trample through their homes and suffer the degradation of people criticizing them for the smallest of defects. (Okay, maybe I'm exaggerating, because the majority of people do make positive comments, but I'm always amazed out what comes out of people's mouths.)

I volunteer to stand in a home for a few hours to make sure the old ladies don't steal anything and nobody uses the tour home toilets.

I was in a very nice home built in 2000 where my only two criticisms were:

1. The builder did not lay their sub-flooring correctly on the second floor. Every step you took would creak and give with your feet. Although maybe the owners requested this so they always knew when their kids were sneaking out. I don't know. All I know is that my parents built their house in the 1980s and it does not make those noises.

2. I spent all three hours staring at a large ridge in the carpeting that ran the length of the bedroom, because it had not been stretched properly. I'm sure they didn't install it like that, but it had obviously been there a long time.

Now I challenge you to come into my home and have only two criticisms.

As far as other people's opinion...

"Is this the master bedroom?" Well, it has a king-sized bed and his/her closets and built-in dressers, so yes. Followed by either, "Then where is the master bathroom?" or "Then why are there stuffed animals on the bed?"

It's not so much that they asked about the master bath, it was the way they asked. Like they were appalled that a master bedroom wouldn't have it's own bath. So apparently, my house (built in 1920 and therefore unencumbered by the need to have tubs big enough in which to swim and toilets close enough one doesn't have to strain their muscles to get to them) would not pass the test.

On top of it, when they were shown the door to said bath, they were equally appalled that the home owners had closed it off for the day. Do you really need to see where people void their bowels??? I appreciate an aesthetically pleasing bathroom as much as the next person, but let's really think about what you are asking to look at, people.

As for the stuffed animals, they were clearly part of the Christmas decor, placed against the throw pillows on the bed. It's not like they were being snuggled up to in bed at night. What is the big deal? I cannot even tell you how many people made that comment, though. It was unfathomable to me.

Note to my mother: if people tour your home they will apparently think no adults live there, since there are teddy bears in every room.

"See how this vaulted ceiling makes the room so much more capacious?" I'm not kidding. That is a quote from one of the few men I saw on the tour...I wasn't even sure it was a word. I had to look it up. What's wrong with the word spacious? It's a perfectly acceptable word.

There was a lot of interest in the home owner's wedding picture that was hanging on the wall, the sentiment ranging from "Oh, isn't that a beautiful dress" to "Wow, she was clearly married in the 80's". (I was of the latter contingent.)

The general consensus was that the built-in dressers seemed very convenient, but they must not be planning to move ever, since they clearly wouldn't be able to take those with them. Umm...they have these things called stores where you can purchase furniture that one doesn't currently own or needs to replace. I think they'll be okay and there is no need to pigeonhole them into the house for all eternity.

One final note. I hate the smell of vanilla air fresheners, stemming from a long ride back to college with someone who felt the need to have 5 of them hanging from their rear view mirror. So of course the room I am assigned to is burning a vanilla candle. Just another day in the life.

The Trial

2010-11-08T19:45:00.003-05:00

Parent-Teacher Conference Day

I've been dreading this day since I got my reminder notice a few weeks ago. Because if something is going wrong, it's not Morgan's fault. She's five. So it kind of fall's on me. And therefore this parent-teacher conference is really just a critique of my parenting skills.

Part of this is brought on by my pre-school parent-teacher conference last year, in which the very pleasant teacher asked me if Morgan had any stress at home, because she sometimes would get very nervous if she was asked to do multiple or difficult tasks.

"Well, now that you mention it...if she makes a mistake in her flashcards I make her walk a medieval gauntlet I erected in the basement."

So, by the time this morning hit, I had a small knot in the pit of my stomach. Stressed? Why would she be stressed? No one in my family stresses?

(Not to mention I've been riding out a slight hormonal imbalance this month that had already caused me to (1) burst into tears in front of my boss and (2) fight to keep it together as we drove past a cemetery and Morgan asked me where we were going to bury Potter when he died.)

I brilliantly scheduled this conference for 7:30 AM.

I may have mentioned that I have trouble getting out of the house in the morning. No? Not six or seven or twenty times? Well, I have what you may call a bit of a "sleep deprivation" problem which causes me to procrastinate throwing back the covers. Most days I'm leaving the house at about 7:45 to get the girls to Thea's, so I somehow had to gain a half hour.

We didn't do too bad. The parents before us were still there chatting when we got there, so I call that a win. Okay, we cut it close. But we also didn't take the full 15 minutes, so no harm done.

Morgan's polite and kind.

This was a surprise, because at home she's all, "Shut up, bitch, make me a bowl of spaghetti-o's!"

She hates doing her letter formation. And this is a girl that loves books. But she really struggles with writing, and therefore is pretty stubborn about doing it. Hmmm, you mean she doesn't like doing things she's not good at, because she can feel people judging her? So much so, that she doesn't even want to practice to get better? Hmm...who does that remind me of? It's somebody, I'm very close to...hmmmm.

Anyway, that was the worst of it. And it was something I already knew.

My only question was whether or not she had friends. I mean, I got the impression that she did, but since Mrs. D's class has all the kids that are on IEPs, I kind of wondered how that was affecting her social skills (not saying that all kids on IEPs have social problems - just a general pondering from a parent that doesn't have to deal with that daily).

Well, she must get that question a lot, because she pulled out a notebook where she spent the last several days recording who played with who, where, and for how long.

So on Wednesday last week Morgan started in the play kitchen areas with Lilly, Elizabeth and Jay and then went over to the computers with Molly and Daniel, etc.

I was pretty impressed. Not with Morgan, with Mrs. D. That must have been a giant pain in the ass, but I guess how else could she remember?

Anyway, it's over for another year. I can now lapse back into apathy.

Author's Note: Did you catch the three paraphrased movie quotes in this post?
"Over-reacting? Why would I over-react? Nobody in my family over-reacts?" Annie Banks, Father of the Bride
"I have what you may call a bit of a "weight" problem." John Candy's character, Stripes
"Shut up, bitch, make me a turkey-pot-pie." John Bender, Breakfast Club

Halloween 2010 Recap

2010-11-03T20:24:00.006-04:00

Coming up for a breath of fresh fall air between Halloween and Christmas. Instead of a long-winded and boring journal entry, I'll recap by the numbers.

October 23

50 bales of hay thrown into loft. Okay, so Scott threw and I stacked. Okay, so John stacked the majority and I supervised.

2 kittens named. In a burst of un-feral abnormalcy, two of this year's kittens are actually allowing the girls to catch and hold them. Even though Zoe's idea of cuddling is a Lou Ferigno sleeper hold. Morgan has dubbed them Fickey and Mickey. She pretends to be able to tell them apart.

October 24

8 adults arrive in Halloween-themed clothing to celebrate Scott's birthday. My idea. I'm cool like that. (This includes 2 grown men in Goonies Never Say Die t-shirts.)

October 27

101 Portrait Innovation pictures taken. Somehow managed to narrow down to 8, but I got the CD for free, which means technically I have all 101.

October 29

1 kindergarten costume parade. 25% Star Wars, 30% Princess, 15% Fairy, 10% Athletes, 10% Toy Story, 10% Public Servant.

1 trip to Costco. 2 balloons from Red Robin. 1 massive stomach ache.

October 30

1 werewolf that scared the bejeezus out of Zoe. (Thank you, Uncle John.) After convincing her that it was only Whitney in a mask, we headed out to the Merchant Trick or Treat parade where I begged Malley's to give my children extra candy for me. "Treats" included: 1 pass to Pace Fitness for an adult (?), sugar free candy and toothbrush from the dentist (come on!), some "organic" candy (isn't that an oxymoron? i didn't even chance it. straight in the garbage.). I personally feel that KeyBank should have been giving dollar bills, but that's just me.

2 trips to the bounce house at the PTA party for Zoe, who until that day had been terrified of them. 4 crafts made that are still sitting on the floor of my car. 1 of which includes the emptied contents of half an Elmer's glue bottle, so now pretty much anything that ends up on the floor of the passenger side is stuck.

250 fish fried by Uncle Mike to celebrate a visit from the Maryland contingent of the family. 50 song requests for Cousin Jake's guitar, only 5 of which he actually knew. Jefferson Airplane's "Somebody to Love" being the overall favorite of the little ones.

1 trip to the drive through beverage at 11:30 pm...for milk...because Aunt Charlie - despite inviting the whole famn damily over - only maintains Lactaid in her refrigerator.

October 31

1 more Swigart family visit...just to round things out for the day.

46 degrees outside at 6pm. Official tricks or treats start time.

7th and final appearance of Dorothy. 3rd and final appearance of Shirley Temple. Dorothy refuses to wear a coat. I give up.

26 full-sized candy bars dispensed. Typically, we have about 5 kids come to our house because our road is too busy for the little ones and there are way too many other neighborhoods serving beer. We believe the influx may have been caused by Mo Williams opening his gates across the street. Like the Pied Piper of Hamilton, kids could hear him calling from blocks away.

10 pounds of candy. 1 pound donated by Morgan for kids who can't trick or trick..."Mommy, did you know there are places in this world where it is not safe?" What's a holiday, without a lesson in morality.

Until next year, rest in peace.

Stats

2010-10-21T19:25:00.005-04:00

Ever since I've learned there is a "stats" tab on my blogger dashboard (which is shockingly not long), I've been consiously trying NOT to pay attention to it.

But that is futile.

And while it is interesting to see how many people view my blog without ever commenting (come on, like you don't have a story of your own to make me seem even the least bit less ridiculous?), that is not what I find myself looking at.

Disclaimer: I cannot see who specifically is looking in any way, shape, or form. Your secret is safe with me.

My favorite stat is under "Traffic Sources" and it tells me what search words were used to get to my blog. Mostly just versions of Hatter's Clean Cup, obviously. And sometimes if I write about something of pop culture, those key words show up.

Top 2 Favorite Search Terms (because most of them are boring):

Annual Gyno Exam - Probably not what they were looking for.
Courtney Cox Left Eyebrow - WTF? What's wrong with Courtney Cox Left Eyebrow and how many of you are going to google it after you leave this blog?

My next favorite stat comes under the heading "Audience" and it tells me from what countries people are logging in. Right under United States? South Korea with 30 hits this year. I can only assume it is the same person trying to find Courtney Cox's left eyebrow and forgetting they've already searched here.

Denmark had 14 and all I can think is, "Is Denmark still a country?" Where the hell have they been? No offense Denmark, my Great Grandmother was born there and I'm sure you have lots of important goings on like attending your annual gyno exams like clockwork.

Other country of note - Romania - who I can only assume is on to my vampire theories surrounding my brother John.

Moral of this story...if you do a google search on Favorite South Korea Cox - you'll probably end up here.

The Great Pumpkin Killed My Cell Phone

2010-10-19T21:11:00.002-04:00

I have really needed to get a new phone since…oh, let’s see…my first blackberry lept off the roof of my car while I was getting on the highway to come home after work. That was over a year ago.

Up until today, I had been using Denise’s previous model, that she let me “borrow” until I was due for an upgrade in…oh, let’s see…April 2010. And considering I’ve known that the bank was going to stop paying for my data plan since…oh, let’s see…April 2010…I really should have gotten one by now, but thankfully I had not.

Today I knocked my/Denise’s phone off my kitchen counter and into Potter’s water bowl (which includes both water and St. Bernard slobber). It has not recovered.

I knocked my phone off the counter, looking for a thermometer – a thermometer that I used maybe an hour prior to the incident and have not found since. Seriously, where could it have gone?

I needed a thermometer because Morgan was home sick with a fever. And let me tell you it takes a lot to keep Morgan down. She’s like her dad – works through the pain. Me…if I have to use more than one Kleenex in the morning, I’m ready to call off work. (But I don’t, of course, which can be attested to by Gregg and Mary who share wall space with me.)

Morgan was most likely sick from a typical weekend approaching Halloween, which to a little kid ranks below Santa but above the Easter Bunny.

Saturday started with a trip to the dentist, moved on to a friend’s Halloween Tea Party Birthday (which marks her first appearance in costume for the season), and ended with a cousin sleepover.

Sunday came with the promise of a trip to Grandpa Ray’s pumpkin patch which he had put in a corner of his farm especially for the great grand children. This had been hyped for about a week.

When we got there, the girls ran to where we pointed then stopped and turned in circles. “Where’s the pumpkin patch?”

“Umm…you’re standing in it.”

Okay, so not exactly the pumpkin patch where one might spend Halloween night, missing tricks or treats and awaiting the arrival of the fabled Great Pumpkin…but it did the job. In retaliation for this less than extraordinary (but in my opinion, completely sincere) pumpkin patch…the Great Pumpkin killed my cell phone.

Bay Village Bicentennial Celebration

2010-10-10T21:23:00.004-04:00

Yes, I know I have my fun with the city of Bay Village, but I do love living here. No, my kids don’t experience “diversity” every day, nor are they exposed to poverty.

Example:
Mommy: (explaining why I wanted the television turned off) You know, some people don’t even have a TV.
Morgan: (**gasp** then silent, thoughtful reflection) Well, Mom, we could always invite them to come watch at our house. They could all take turns watching one show, because it’s always nice to share.

The majority (maybe all, I don't know) of public land in Bay Village was willed to the city from the Cahoon family that settled here on October 10, 1810 under the stipulation that the city could not use the property for any organized events (specifically boating and swimming) on Sundays.

So with great irony, our bicentennial fell on…Sunday. Hmm, what to do…I’ll tell you what you do…you throw a church service into the middle of the festivities. Hi, Loophole.

And while it was a very a nice service (with all six churches represented)…and I get that the town was founded by very Christian people…and I’m not all about political correctness…I don’t know…it still felt wrong to be excluding people…even if they are the extreme minority…

On the other hand, it’s great to have a community that is so committed to our children and to creating a place that shows the value of doing things as a family, by putting on these amazing events like Bay Days and Movies in the Park. It makes the saying “it takes a village” seem quite poetic.

So, yes, I enjoyed myself immensely and the girls had a blast. Thank you, Ida Cahoon. And my apologies to my one Jewish friend. And now, for your viewing pleasure...a photo essay.

Crafts, Civil War Era demonstrations, and Beer Can Chicken (not actually at the bicentennial, it's on my own grill, but I always think it’s funny to look at beer can chicken)

Parade

Lighting of the new cupola (again, my dummy-proof camera is not exactly great for night shots)

Morgan, Zoe, and my DVR

2010-10-01T21:25:00.003-04:00

Morgan

Never have I wished for public school uniforms more than I have this week.

Changing Morgan's mindset from summertime dresses and crocs to wintertime socks, long sleeves, and (god forbid) pants ranks rights up there with cleaning up the St. Bernard piles of poop from my living room carpet. Actually, cleaning up the poop took up a lot less time, and Potter didn't fight me about it. He took it like a man, despite the fact I made him stay outside while it was raining.

Morgan's list of grievances include, but are not limited to:

"Pants that touch her feet" (Anything other than capris or leggings.)

Shoes that are "too tight" (AKA actually fit her appropriately)

Long-sleeve shirts that aren't pretty enough. (Anything that is a solid color or a pattern other than rainbow. These would be the same shirts that actually coordinate with the patterned skirts and leggings, so you see my dilemma.)

Socks that "bother her" (AKA any sock with seams across the toes. FYI - ALL socks have seams across the toes. While I don't think this is worthy of the flood of tears it produces in Morgan, I do wonder why socks can't be made with seams on the outside, or no seam at all. That has to be possible. And for those of you who are about to suggest I turn the socks inside out...if you think Morgan is wearing solid colored plain socks, you are sorely mistaken. Trust me when I say her socks cannot be turned inside out.)

Sleeves that touch her wrists (This is not as bad as pants that touch her feet, but it's up there.)

Collars that touch her neck (The one thing I've been able to cut out of her wardrobe...until the winter coat comes along.)

I'm actually considering having her evaluated for some kind of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.

Normally, I would self-diagnose, but since Scott frowns on my use of WebMD for my own aches and pains, I'm pretty sure he wouldn't believe me if I confirmed Morgan's diagnosis on crazypeople.com.

Zoe

Spent Wednesday walking everywhere in Morgan's flip flops. Not flip flops that used to be Morgan's. Morgan's current flip flops.

If Lydia is at Thea's, they trade shoes for the day. Luckily Thea is good at remembering, because there have been many a time when I would have walked out without noticing.

Sometimes she wears a pair and carries a pair and puts a pair in the diaper bag. (You just never know what the situation will call for. A girl must be prepared.)

She never wants to wear the pair I give her, even if she happily wore them the day before.

She has requested to sleep with her shoes on more than one occasion. Not on her feet, but rather holding them like stuffed animals.

Contrarywise - none of her dolls are allowed to wear shoes.

DVR

When last I left you...

I can't believe I forgot to mention Melissa & Joe on ABC Family. Melissa Joan Hart (Sabrina the Teenage Witch) and Joey Lawrence (Blossom) [Or for you children of the 80's Clarissa Explains All and Gimme A Break]. This is almost a rehashing of yet another 80's classic Who's The Boss, but Who Cares. Love the witty banter and might also enjoy the fact that her butt looks bigger than mine now.

Raising Hope - First episode was funny but mildly disturbing. By the second episode, I was over the disturbing part and laughing my ass off. Definitely a keeper.

Running Wilde - I wish I had that half hour of my life back.

Modern Family - If you have ever had a family, you should watch this show. And if Phil is not my brother Charlie, I do not know who is. This is my number one show. Period. Manny: I think I'm going to wear my burgundy jacket. Gloria: Of course you are.

Cougartown - I still think this is really funny, but it also has its moments of stupidity, so watch at your own risk. Courtney Cox is the most annoying mom ever, but when her craziness does not involve her son, she is very amusing. But her hillbilly ex-husband Bobby is the main reason to watch this show.

Community - I'm still going to watch it because of my inappropriate crush on Joel McHale, but these first two episodes have not been that funny. And enough with Betty White already. I can watch Golden Girls reruns anytime I want a fix.

The Office - I miss the old days, however...Dwight peeing in the elevator - classic!....Michael's face when they tell him Toby is his counselor - priceless! (I haven't watched the second episode yet.)

Programming note: I have not watched Outsourced yet, but it is on my list. Did you notice the shocking lack of hour-long drama's from my DVR list? I can't do it anymore. With the exception of Haven and Pretty Little Liars, I have not had the ability to pick up a new drama and stick with it. Maybe it's Lost aftershock. I'm not sure.

Cups and Saucers

2010-09-24T07:25:00.003-04:00

Morgan’s Version of a Classic Joke
One night I was in Africa and I stuffed an elephant wearing my pajamas. How did he get in my pajamas? Ha Cha Cha Cha.

Zoe’s Version
Elfant in my jamas. Ha Tsa Tsa. (Really she just likes the Ha Tsa Tsa part and doesn’t feel a lead in is necessary.)

4 Things that Bug Me About Wlakers/Joggers
People that walk while reading a book…that’s what audio books were made for. How do you even do that without getting a headache?

People that walk in the road when there is a perfectly good sidewalk. (Being married to a runner, I understand running in the road, but walking doesn’t make sense.)

People that jog slower than I can walk. Don’t kid yourself; you aren’t better than the walkers.

People that look like they are in physical pain while running. I’m not talking sweaty, elevated heart-rate at the end of a long run. I’m talking about the people whose faces immediately contort into victims of torture the moment they leave their driveway. Find a new form of exercise.

Potter’s Rebellion
I think Potter is sensing that we have him one foot in the grave. He’s been randomly dragging his ass upstairs to sleep in our room again. So perhaps he had stopped because of the blindness, and is now getting comfortable with it.

Also, he’s using his blindness as an excuse to try to eat off people’s plates. He just sticks his nose right up there now. “What? I thought she was handing me the piece of bologna.”

Renewed Love Affair with my DVR - Part 1

2010-09-21T21:09:00.005-04:00

To recap the summer:

Entourage went to a dark place that kept me from regularly tuning in, but I heard it was good from a reliable source, namely the person I married and force to watch SyFy programming.

True Blood redeemed itself in the last two episodes as far as Eric goes, but listen up, Alan Ball...if you don't lighten up on the Lafayette weirdness and making Sam a psycho, I will be fast forwarding through two thirds of your vampire show that is actually only one forth vampire these days.

Dear SyFy network...why does your best show (Eureka) have the shortest season? Or is that the point? Kind of hard to jump the shark when you don't get on the water skis. P.S. I will allow loopholes in the time-space continuum if you keep bringing Stark back to antagonize Carter. P.P.S. Brilliant move to let Eureka lead in to Haven because I am already hooked. Although, your promos about it being based on King's The Colorado Kid were grossly misleading...or were they?

You know it is fall (and you have kids up past primetime) when you turn on the TV and get a message that the cable boxes are all occupied and you need to cancel a recording or stop trying to watch something that isn't being recorded. Come on, U-Verse, show some compassion. How do I know if I need to record a series if I can't record a single episode?

I'll start off light (because there's only been three shows watched so far )...

Life Interrupted will indeed most likely be interrupted, because I see us walking down a very familiar hallway that leads to the same thing that happened last season.

Boardwalk Empire...HBO is starting strong again, which I didn't think could happen because Steve Buscemi is no Alexander Skarsgard, but I was mistaken. (Plus, I don't want Buscemi sending me to the wood chipper if I don't like his show.) However...they may run into the problem of not enough likeable characters...or at least characters you love to hate.

Glee...first off, Morgan has been sucked in, so I can now watch it real time and not feel guilty. It's bonding! And can I just say "What I Did For Love" was shear brilliance. Brought back fond memories of the excruciatingly horrible Firelands High School choir and our "A Chorus Line" medley. Kiss today goodbye and point me toward tomorrow...season premiers of Modern Family and Cougartown.

Sidebar: Prior to watching Glee, Morgan and I had a competitive game of Wii bowling. I have finally found someone less coordinated than I am! Yes, she is five. "Press, step, swing, let go. What don't you understand?!"

The Value of Money

2010-09-19T18:23:00.004-04:00

Ever since I banned the phrase “I want that,” from our household, Morgan has been very interested in "how many dollars" things cost. Loophole: Instead she uses the phrase “I would maybe like that for my birthday/Christmas.” Semantics? Yes.

For the last year, we have let her take the change from our pockets to put in her bank and I recently cashed it in at a Coinstar for her, but she’s starting to get depressed in the knowledge that it takes a lot of money to buy things from The Disney Store.

On having five dollars left to spend…
Morgan: How many dollars is this?
Mommy: Nine.
Morgan: (dramatic sigh) Put it on my Christmas list, I guess.

This went on throughout the store and it was heartbreaking, but hopefully a lesson learned.

We are even letting her do “chores” to earn money, but we’re trying to keep it reasonable, because I will admit I was a bit concerned she’d bankrupt us with her initiative. So it’s fifty cents here, a quarter there type of pay.

She also has no patience, so “saving” isn’t her strong suit. On leaving the store that day, she was okay with saving for the Alice doll, but by the time she got home the futility sank in that the doll was twenty dollars and it was going to take her “forever” so “just add it to the Christmas list.”

Because money in her hand burns the proverbial hole in her pocket. She just has to spend it on something. Even if it isn’t what she really wants. Thus making it take longer to save. Yet another lesson.

So last Tuesday, a Talent Group check came in the mail. These usually come around a couple months after the photo shoots occur, so they are always a little bit of a surprise. And this one was substantial, because it was a longer shoot and included a travel stipend. (Read about that joy here.)

Normally, I put this money into her savings account without even saying anything. I figure if she keeps at it for a while, she’ll have some spending money in college. Maybe she’ll be the one offering to buy the kegs when she moves into her first off-campus apartment.

But Scott pointed out that she did earn the money, so maybe she should be allowed to decide what to do with a small part of it. He’s the good cop. I’m the bad cop.

So that Tuesday night I show her the check and explain where it came from. And that the next day we could take it to the bank and that they would give us dollar bills for it and put it in her account. But that she could have twenty-five dollars out of it to spend.

Pure joy!

Who Wants Coffee, Who Wants Tea?

2010-09-15T21:04:00.002-04:00

Celebrity Death Match

135 pound St. Bernard, recently gone blind vs. 2 1/2 year old, hopped up on marshmallows and pushing an umbrella stroller like she's driving Talladega.

And the St. Bernard wins. Zoe sustains road rash from the cement driveway over her left eyebrow.

He was not given a good night hug.

Babes in Toyland

What law is it that the minute Morgan has a friend over to play, she is consumed by an all-powerful force that demands her to drag them to the basement to rummage through garbage bags of toys not played with for a year, instead of up to her room with all of the most recent items she's suckered people into buying for her?

The Lost Art of Dining

During my massive cleaning spree, I came across “the tray” and cursed it for the millionth time.

It is a tray I bought for Morgan a few years ago and I don’t remember if it was originally intended so she could eat in front of the TV (that would be bad, right?) but that’s its soul purpose for Zoe.

The problem with this tray is that it has this little trough around the edge that crumbs and juice splatters end up in, and is a pain in the ass to clean. Plus Morgan put stickers all over it, so even when I wipe it clean it still looks dirty.

So I thought…I should buy a couple new trays that don’t have those annoying features.

It got me thinking about the good ol’ days of TV trays. I suppose they fell out of favor when people started putting televisions in their kitchens. But I remember when everyone had them. In our house, the TV tray was used for two main purposes.

The first was a place for my mom to put her supplies while making clothespin doll ornaments around Christmas time, so she could sew while watching Scarecrow and Mrs. King or MacGuyver.

The second was when we stayed home sick from school and got to rest on the couch while Family Feud, Password, and $100,000 Pyramid were on. The TV tray was provided to eat our soup and drink our ginger ale from the comfort of the green tweed davenport, without causing too much distress on our weakened bodies.

In my maternal grandparents’ house - which was actually a double-wide trailer - there wasn’t room for a big dining room table, so family gathering necessitated their use for birthday dinners.

If I recall, Aunt Charlie had metal ones and Aunt Cheryl had wooden ones, but maybe I have that backward.

I did a quick poll of my co-workers to find out when these went on the endangered species listing and even the twenty-somethings remembered them, so it must be fairly recent, which makes me feel a little better.

They usually look at me like I have one foot in the grave I’m so old.

And that's all the clean cups for the day.

MoZo's Road to Iron Man - Rev3 Cedar Point

2010-09-13T20:13:00.004-04:00

I'm still working on the Road to Iron Man blog for Scott and we're getting some formatting things worked out, so I'll place this here for now.

Scott completed his first half-Iron Man distance this last Sunday, which is a 1.2 mile swim, 56 mile bike, and 13.1 mile run (half marathon). It was on the Sandusky coast of Lake Erie and ended inside Cedar Point - "America's roller coast" and home to the steepest and fastest steel roller coaster on earth, among other things awesome.

Scott had to be there at 6:30 am, even though his wave didn't go off until 8:30, and my plan was to get me and the girls there to snap a picture of him coming out of the water somewhere around 9:30 (yeah, swimming in a great lake for an hour...fun).

This is the scene that awaited me.

You don't see any bikes in there, do you? Because I got there about 10:30 and every single person had gotten out of the water. Those are all the "halfers" wet suits laying there.

So....we did a little recon at the park entrance. The park rides don't open until noon this time of year, but Scott's entry fee included two passes (which I think are really up to $35 or $40 dollars now) and I wanted to confirm Zoe was going to be free.

Then we went back to stake out a place to see the bikers coming in. Even though the pros and full distance runners went off on the swim first, they halfers end up coming into the bike transition first.

While we waited, I could hear the park open at 11:30 when they asked for people to stand for the National Anthem. Don't get me started. I stood up and made the girls stop playing, so I was able to notice all the other people that didn't do the same. DRIVES ME CRAZY!!!!!

Okay...then we got to see Scott bike in...

And run out...

...looking strong, and even managed a wave for the girls.

Off to the park for lunch and some kiddie rides. A little bit after that, we met up with the "Seniors" (Nana and Papa Turtle) and stalked the finish line.

Rev3 was great, they had a huge jumbo tron and were announcing all the runners by name as they came in. So I was almost prepared (even though he was in a half hour earlier than expected) at the finish line to take the winning photo.

Unfortunately, my camera was still set to video because I had to record Morgan laughing on the Kiddie Demon Drop. So instead of taking a picture, I started recording a video which is mostly me fumbling the camera around and yelling "son of a bitch", before getting a shot of him walking away with his participant stash (another Kudos to Rev3 for all the cool swag).

I would upload it, but I'm an idiot and can't figure out how to make it work.

Finished in 5 hours and 15 minutes. 95 out of 800 or so. 21 out of approximately 100 in his age group.

The pro that won the full iron man, finished just over 8 hours! Just thinking about that makes me want to go to bed for a week.