There are two kinds of jeans. Casual jeans you wear to the store and library, that may or may not have stains on them due to their other purpose of working in the yard or cleaning your house. And their snootier cousin - stainless, shape-retaining, and preferably the same shade of blue from top to bottom. These should be worn to any restaurant fancier than Red Robin but not quite as fancy as a place with valet parking.
And do you know where neither of these types of jeans should be worn?
The Public Square Theater for a Saturday evening performance of "Chicago". Yeah, make that any theater for any evening performance (I'll cut slack on the matinees, but I still don't like it). I don't care if you are seeing Rent or Madam Butterfly. Jeans are not appropriate. Period. Who gave the okay for this? They did not consult me.
God love the volunteers that seat people in the dark - after the performance has started - but maybe the theater needs to start paying for bouncers that enforce a dress code.
How hard can it be to dress up for a nice evening out that includes taking in some fine arts?
Men - at the very least, borrow a pair of your neighbor's Dockers and a sweater.
Women - kindly put on a shoe that you haven't sweated to the oldies in.
And P.S. to ladies surrounding me. It is not okay to talk in your normal voice while people on stage are singing. There is a fancy thing called whispering, if what you have to say is so important it can't wait until intermission.
And P.S. to Tom Wopat. Do you ever think about jumping in and out of the General Lee's car window while you're singing "Razzle Dazzle"?
Monday, January 25, 2010
Friday, January 22, 2010
Happy Birthday, Mom
My mom taught me how to create shading and dimension with crayons in my Snow White coloring book while we got our hair cut in Mrs. Stiewald's basement.
She always bought Oreos instead of the gacky Hydrox cookies my dad said were just as good.
She let me get out of bed to watch the Brady Bunch wedding special (the one where Jan and Marcia have a double wedding).
She picked the mold off the hot dog buns before she made us eat them anyway.
She put Barry Manilow and Rogers and Hammerstein in my heart.
She gave me $100 in rolled up quarters to use on my one and only Spring Break trip that they said I had to pay for myself.
She let me watch all the good morning game shows while drinking 7 Up when I stayed home sick from school.
I'm sure she did some other things, too. But those are definitely the most important.
Happy Birthday!
She always bought Oreos instead of the gacky Hydrox cookies my dad said were just as good.
She let me get out of bed to watch the Brady Bunch wedding special (the one where Jan and Marcia have a double wedding).
She picked the mold off the hot dog buns before she made us eat them anyway.
She put Barry Manilow and Rogers and Hammerstein in my heart.
She gave me $100 in rolled up quarters to use on my one and only Spring Break trip that they said I had to pay for myself.
She let me watch all the good morning game shows while drinking 7 Up when I stayed home sick from school.
I'm sure she did some other things, too. But those are definitely the most important.
Happy Birthday!
Monday, January 18, 2010
One Act Play by Morgan
Act One - Scene One (in the car, on the way home)
Mommy: So did you have fun at school today?
Morgan: Yes.
Mommy: Did you make any crafts?
Morgan: Yes, for Mather Lutin King.
Mommy: Martin Luther King?
Morgan: Yes. It's a bracelet with Black and White and Love.
Act One - Scene Two (later in the car on the way to dinner)
After explaining to Daddy the bracelet, Morgan settles in to play with her toys. Mommy suddenly puts up her hand and motions for Daddy to listen to the back seat.
Morgan: ...a long time ago there were a bunch of mean white people and one nice black man...
The End
Mommy: So did you have fun at school today?
Morgan: Yes.
Mommy: Did you make any crafts?
Morgan: Yes, for Mather Lutin King.
Mommy: Martin Luther King?
Morgan: Yes. It's a bracelet with Black and White and Love.
Act One - Scene Two (later in the car on the way to dinner)
After explaining to Daddy the bracelet, Morgan settles in to play with her toys. Mommy suddenly puts up her hand and motions for Daddy to listen to the back seat.
Morgan: ...a long time ago there were a bunch of mean white people and one nice black man...
The End
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
The Oreo Gene
Little known fact: your DNA strand holds the key to how you eat Oreos. This is just a theory, of course, but it came to me in such a flash of brilliance, it has to be true.
Morgan eats her Oreos by dunking them in milk, like her mom.
Zoe eats her Oreos by twisting them apart, like her dad.
Pretty sure we never taught them either of these methods.
Pretty sure they shouldn't be eating that many Oreos for me to find this out.
Also interesting, Zoe does not eat the side of the Oreo with no cream filling. She purposefully seeks out the dog to give it to him, but if he is hiding, she will settle for giving it to me.
In other health news...Morgan told me her heart felt bad today. She said it was eating her stomach and growing too small, like the grinch. Both mortified and amazed, I asked her why she felt this way. "I don't know, Mommy. It's just not a lucky day." I'm pretty sure this stems from Christmas being over, but I am on the lookout for PTSD due to Jaws 3 in 3-D.
On the flip side, I also caught her singing Black Eyed Peas..."I got a feeling...that tonight's gonna be a good night..." and then she stopped and told Zoe, "Take it from the top. That means, go back to the beginning."
Pinky Dinky Doo strikes again!
Morgan eats her Oreos by dunking them in milk, like her mom.
Zoe eats her Oreos by twisting them apart, like her dad.
Pretty sure we never taught them either of these methods.
Pretty sure they shouldn't be eating that many Oreos for me to find this out.
Also interesting, Zoe does not eat the side of the Oreo with no cream filling. She purposefully seeks out the dog to give it to him, but if he is hiding, she will settle for giving it to me.
In other health news...Morgan told me her heart felt bad today. She said it was eating her stomach and growing too small, like the grinch. Both mortified and amazed, I asked her why she felt this way. "I don't know, Mommy. It's just not a lucky day." I'm pretty sure this stems from Christmas being over, but I am on the lookout for PTSD due to Jaws 3 in 3-D.
On the flip side, I also caught her singing Black Eyed Peas..."I got a feeling...that tonight's gonna be a good night..." and then she stopped and told Zoe, "Take it from the top. That means, go back to the beginning."
Pinky Dinky Doo strikes again!
Sunday, January 3, 2010
Dread
What I am dreading:
Waking up tomorrow and actually putting normal clothes on, instead of hanging out in my pajamas until lunch time.
Dropping off Morgan and Zoe, even if it is to Nana Turtle since their normal sitter is still on vacation.
Walking from the parking garage to the tower in the bitter cold wind that defies any type of arctic expedition gear.
Listening to my voicemail.
Talking to external auditors about SAS70 reviews.
Talking to other employees about SAS70 reviews.
Talking to internal auditors about SAS70 reviews.
Talking to anyone about risk assessments.
Firing up Turbo Tax.
Going back to the gym.
Things I am NOT dreading:
It's a sad state of affairs, but I miss my co-workers. (As evidenced by the fact that I spent my Pseudo New Year's Eve texting at least one, possibly two, of them.)
Not having to entertain the devil's spawn in her every waking moment.
Taking bets on whether they finally restocked the Cherry Coke Zero on our floor. (If they knew what's good for them, they would fill the whole machine with it.)
Finding out the subject of the first instant message I will get about the "Loud Talker" in my aisle. Will it be about her upcoming doctor appointment? Where her friend wants to have her birthday lunch in July? Or maybe what Parfait got for Christmas? It's such a tough call.
My one and only New Year's resolution: Patience, patience, patience.
Waking up tomorrow and actually putting normal clothes on, instead of hanging out in my pajamas until lunch time.
Dropping off Morgan and Zoe, even if it is to Nana Turtle since their normal sitter is still on vacation.
Walking from the parking garage to the tower in the bitter cold wind that defies any type of arctic expedition gear.
Listening to my voicemail.
Talking to external auditors about SAS70 reviews.
Talking to other employees about SAS70 reviews.
Talking to internal auditors about SAS70 reviews.
Talking to anyone about risk assessments.
Firing up Turbo Tax.
Going back to the gym.
Things I am NOT dreading:
It's a sad state of affairs, but I miss my co-workers. (As evidenced by the fact that I spent my Pseudo New Year's Eve texting at least one, possibly two, of them.)
Not having to entertain the devil's spawn in her every waking moment.
Taking bets on whether they finally restocked the Cherry Coke Zero on our floor. (If they knew what's good for them, they would fill the whole machine with it.)
Finding out the subject of the first instant message I will get about the "Loud Talker" in my aisle. Will it be about her upcoming doctor appointment? Where her friend wants to have her birthday lunch in July? Or maybe what Parfait got for Christmas? It's such a tough call.
My one and only New Year's resolution: Patience, patience, patience.
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Christmas Recap
December 19, 2009
Start Christmas shopping. You heard me. Start. We even got a non-relative baby sitter for the occasion. Poor Megan. The first thing Morgan asked her to do, even before we left, was put in Jaws 2.
Target and the mall. Target was fine and major milestone. The mall was annoying to say the least. We went into Gap and had to walk straight back out because it looked like a hurricane had hit. H&M was organized, but practically bare. I'm giving huge kudos to Crazy 8, because it was neat, well-stocked, and plenty of choices.
Three hours later and we are eating dinner at Moosehead (without kids!) and I'm realizing, we still don't have a single person finished.
December 20, 2009
Cousin's Christmas at Aunt Charlie's. This is the second year we adults did a White Elephant gift exchange. Actually, let me back up my story. Earlier in the week, I am informed that my grandma is again getting ready for her death bed and sent home a Dancing Santa with my parents that I had given her many years ago with her instructions to return it to me.
"No thanks. That's all you."
Dad asked me if I wanted to use it in the White Elephant, but I had already wrapped my two gifts, so I told him he was welcome to use it.
Back to the exchange. I got first pick. I go for the package with the cool decoration on the outside.
"No, not that one."
Too late. I opened up my own damn Dancing Santa. Oh yeah, that one is coming back to someone next year.
Things I love about Cousin's Christmas at Aunt Charlie's:
1. Life-size nativity is alive and well.
2. Blaming the baby for suspicious smells.
3. No child proof cups.
4. Jake and Katie attempting Christmas carols with the kids.
5. Uncle Mike still complaining about the gift he got last year (which had been my contribution).
December 21, 2009
I start wrapping gifts while watching Holiday Inn. The first of many loaves of bread. Scott gets to bed around 1 AM.
December 22, 2009
Scott puts together the last freezer meal for the Great Grandma's gifts. Finally, someone I can scratch off my list.
Manage, with Morgan's help, to get the sugar cookies decorated. Not pretty, but very yummy.
Scott bakes more bread. At this point, there is no clock, because we have no more time to sleep.
December 23, 2009
Christmas shopping at Crocker Park. Finally starting to get somewhere. Leave my purse on the counter of Eddie Bauer and don't notice until I get into Banana Republic. I'm actually impressed that is the only back tracking I had to do.
Invite the Turtles over with Uncle Matt to have carry-out.
Watch Jaws 2. Again.
Wrap more presents.
December 24, 2009
Scott and Matt take Morgan to the West Side Market to get fresh ingredients for Christmas Day dinner. But don't forget the fish balls and anchovies for Gramy. Nothing says Christmas like a good fish ball.
I tackle Toys R Us at 8 AM, which was surprisingly pleasant, other than there was a shopper running around yelling at all the employees, demanding they pay attention to her. Yes, I waited until the last minute, too. Notice I am not acting like a lunatic.
This concludes my Christmas shopping until I realize I had meant to buy the girls bean bag chairs. That means another trip to Target with the girls. But I managed to get a stock boy to carry them to the front for me and bring them out to my car. I almost got away with it, but since the Toys R Us packages were in the trunk, only one of the chairs would fit, so the other had to go into the passenger seat.
Luckily, Morgan just thought it was another bag of stuff. A pretty purple bag with flowers on it, but I guess she's never seen a bean bag chair before.
Here is where it gets hairy. We get home from Target with exactly an hour and a half to get ready. I have to wrap a couple presents that are going with us. And give the girls a bath. And get them dressed. And have my own shower and get dressed. And pack the "diaper bag". And I was trying to make sure the house was semi-picked up before we left. Yeah, that last one didn't happen.
Managed to do all of the above in 2 hours before heading to my Mom and Dad's. Get there a little before 3 to open presents with my immediate family, plus new additions. 4 o'clock. Hmmm...still missing an entire branch of the family tree. I won't say who, but just know that I could have been cleaning my kitchen up or wrapping more presents from "Santa" in the amount of time we spent waiting for you.
Zoe opens the first of SIX babies she will receive. Hopefully, not setting her up to become the Octo-mom in the future.
Have to ask others to deliver our present to Granny and Ray, while we make our way to the Turtles.
After Morgan helps Uncle Gary get his oxygen tank set up things fall into place and I'm able to breath again.
Until we take the girls home, set up cookie and carrot plate, put girls to bed, wrap more presents, and set presents out. Which was able to be accomplished during one and a half viewings of A Christmas Story.
December 25, 2009
Santa has arrived at Lake Road. And Wolf Road. Get home a little after noon and the girls take naps while we prepare to have everyone over at 4:30. For the record, that was not an appropriate amount of time. I'm thankful Scott is the chef and all I had to worry about was cleaning and organizing the presents so they fit nicely under the tree.
Of course the vacuum decides to break, just as I am getting to the Potter hair fiasco, but Scott manages to fix it before running to the store for ice.
Things we did after company arrived:
1. Finished sweeping.
2. Set the table.
3. Scott changed his clothes.
4. Cleaned the downstairs toilet and sink.
5. Prepared the salad.
6. Cleaned the kitchen. (Seriously, every cooking ingredient and utensil)
7. Watched Jaws: The Revenge, which Morgan had received from Santa.
Conclusion
"I don't know what to tell you, except it's Christmas and we're all in misery." Ellen Griswald.
"Woopee! A Zeppelin!" Randy (Ralphie's brother).
"I think we're gonna need a bigger boat!" Chief Brody.
Start Christmas shopping. You heard me. Start. We even got a non-relative baby sitter for the occasion. Poor Megan. The first thing Morgan asked her to do, even before we left, was put in Jaws 2.
Target and the mall. Target was fine and major milestone. The mall was annoying to say the least. We went into Gap and had to walk straight back out because it looked like a hurricane had hit. H&M was organized, but practically bare. I'm giving huge kudos to Crazy 8, because it was neat, well-stocked, and plenty of choices.
Three hours later and we are eating dinner at Moosehead (without kids!) and I'm realizing, we still don't have a single person finished.
December 20, 2009
Cousin's Christmas at Aunt Charlie's. This is the second year we adults did a White Elephant gift exchange. Actually, let me back up my story. Earlier in the week, I am informed that my grandma is again getting ready for her death bed and sent home a Dancing Santa with my parents that I had given her many years ago with her instructions to return it to me.
"No thanks. That's all you."
Dad asked me if I wanted to use it in the White Elephant, but I had already wrapped my two gifts, so I told him he was welcome to use it.
Back to the exchange. I got first pick. I go for the package with the cool decoration on the outside.
"No, not that one."
Too late. I opened up my own damn Dancing Santa. Oh yeah, that one is coming back to someone next year.
Things I love about Cousin's Christmas at Aunt Charlie's:
1. Life-size nativity is alive and well.
2. Blaming the baby for suspicious smells.
3. No child proof cups.
4. Jake and Katie attempting Christmas carols with the kids.
5. Uncle Mike still complaining about the gift he got last year (which had been my contribution).
December 21, 2009
I start wrapping gifts while watching Holiday Inn. The first of many loaves of bread. Scott gets to bed around 1 AM.
December 22, 2009
Scott puts together the last freezer meal for the Great Grandma's gifts. Finally, someone I can scratch off my list.
Manage, with Morgan's help, to get the sugar cookies decorated. Not pretty, but very yummy.
Scott bakes more bread. At this point, there is no clock, because we have no more time to sleep.
December 23, 2009
Christmas shopping at Crocker Park. Finally starting to get somewhere. Leave my purse on the counter of Eddie Bauer and don't notice until I get into Banana Republic. I'm actually impressed that is the only back tracking I had to do.
Invite the Turtles over with Uncle Matt to have carry-out.
Watch Jaws 2. Again.
Wrap more presents.
December 24, 2009
Scott and Matt take Morgan to the West Side Market to get fresh ingredients for Christmas Day dinner. But don't forget the fish balls and anchovies for Gramy. Nothing says Christmas like a good fish ball.
I tackle Toys R Us at 8 AM, which was surprisingly pleasant, other than there was a shopper running around yelling at all the employees, demanding they pay attention to her. Yes, I waited until the last minute, too. Notice I am not acting like a lunatic.
This concludes my Christmas shopping until I realize I had meant to buy the girls bean bag chairs. That means another trip to Target with the girls. But I managed to get a stock boy to carry them to the front for me and bring them out to my car. I almost got away with it, but since the Toys R Us packages were in the trunk, only one of the chairs would fit, so the other had to go into the passenger seat.
Luckily, Morgan just thought it was another bag of stuff. A pretty purple bag with flowers on it, but I guess she's never seen a bean bag chair before.
Here is where it gets hairy. We get home from Target with exactly an hour and a half to get ready. I have to wrap a couple presents that are going with us. And give the girls a bath. And get them dressed. And have my own shower and get dressed. And pack the "diaper bag". And I was trying to make sure the house was semi-picked up before we left. Yeah, that last one didn't happen.
Managed to do all of the above in 2 hours before heading to my Mom and Dad's. Get there a little before 3 to open presents with my immediate family, plus new additions. 4 o'clock. Hmmm...still missing an entire branch of the family tree. I won't say who, but just know that I could have been cleaning my kitchen up or wrapping more presents from "Santa" in the amount of time we spent waiting for you.
Zoe opens the first of SIX babies she will receive. Hopefully, not setting her up to become the Octo-mom in the future.
Have to ask others to deliver our present to Granny and Ray, while we make our way to the Turtles.
After Morgan helps Uncle Gary get his oxygen tank set up things fall into place and I'm able to breath again.
Until we take the girls home, set up cookie and carrot plate, put girls to bed, wrap more presents, and set presents out. Which was able to be accomplished during one and a half viewings of A Christmas Story.
December 25, 2009
Santa has arrived at Lake Road. And Wolf Road. Get home a little after noon and the girls take naps while we prepare to have everyone over at 4:30. For the record, that was not an appropriate amount of time. I'm thankful Scott is the chef and all I had to worry about was cleaning and organizing the presents so they fit nicely under the tree.
Of course the vacuum decides to break, just as I am getting to the Potter hair fiasco, but Scott manages to fix it before running to the store for ice.
Things we did after company arrived:
1. Finished sweeping.
2. Set the table.
3. Scott changed his clothes.
4. Cleaned the downstairs toilet and sink.
5. Prepared the salad.
6. Cleaned the kitchen. (Seriously, every cooking ingredient and utensil)
7. Watched Jaws: The Revenge, which Morgan had received from Santa.
Conclusion
"I don't know what to tell you, except it's Christmas and we're all in misery." Ellen Griswald.
"Woopee! A Zeppelin!" Randy (Ralphie's brother).
"I think we're gonna need a bigger boat!" Chief Brody.
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
10 Days To Christmas
This past weekend I organized the "Hats, Gloves, and Scarves" bin. I have one of those. It's the bin with all the random items of winter apparel that aren't our first choices, but have to be turned to when the others have gotten waterlogged or have been mischievously hidden by garden gnomes.
In my parents house, this bin has been around for centuries...okay, decades. And anyone that visited their "cousins/friends in the country" can vouch for its existence.
Because one snow mobile ride gone bad, one hour of ice skating on the creek, or 15 minutes of pelting Little John with ice balls, and your own gloves/mittens are done. That's it. You are doomed to the bin. And the bin is bad. It is bad in a two-pronged fashion.
Prong one. We didn't want those gloves anymore. That's why they are in the bin. They most likely have a hole somewhere in them and they most definitely are ugly as sin. And god forbid you get stuck with mittens.
Prong two. You will never find a matched set. Go ahead. Search for hours. The only way you will be successful is if you happen upon an old set of my mothers. White knit gloves with blue and pink flowers crocheted into them at a length up to your elbow. And none of us want that. Except, now that I think about it, those gloves would look really cool with my long camel coat. Other than the fact that they have holes in them.
Hats are another story. You will definitely have to wear one that either has a HUGE pom pon on the top of it or covers your entire face like you are planning a jewel heist. In the past, hats were a non-issue, because as soon as you sat on the sled, the dog would steal it from your head anyway.
Scarves, you have the option of long-enough-to-swaddle-yourself or so-loosely-knit-you-may-as-well-not-wear-one. Either way, you can guarantee to get a mouth full of dog hair in your first breath.
Outside the bin there is the coat rack. The coat rack covers the gamut from Dad's old letterman jacket to snow pants Mom wore to Peak and Peak in the 70's.
On the ground is another cardboard box of wool socks, which if you're desperate you can wear as mittens, but you will run into the same problems as previously mentioned.
Yes, we often looked like your corner homeless person. But when you're flying over drifts at 40 miles per hour...steering a sled so it hits the ramp you just built...or sweeping the snow off the ice to have a game of hockey...it really couldn't matter less.
In my parents house, this bin has been around for centuries...okay, decades. And anyone that visited their "cousins/friends in the country" can vouch for its existence.
Because one snow mobile ride gone bad, one hour of ice skating on the creek, or 15 minutes of pelting Little John with ice balls, and your own gloves/mittens are done. That's it. You are doomed to the bin. And the bin is bad. It is bad in a two-pronged fashion.
Prong one. We didn't want those gloves anymore. That's why they are in the bin. They most likely have a hole somewhere in them and they most definitely are ugly as sin. And god forbid you get stuck with mittens.
Prong two. You will never find a matched set. Go ahead. Search for hours. The only way you will be successful is if you happen upon an old set of my mothers. White knit gloves with blue and pink flowers crocheted into them at a length up to your elbow. And none of us want that. Except, now that I think about it, those gloves would look really cool with my long camel coat. Other than the fact that they have holes in them.
Hats are another story. You will definitely have to wear one that either has a HUGE pom pon on the top of it or covers your entire face like you are planning a jewel heist. In the past, hats were a non-issue, because as soon as you sat on the sled, the dog would steal it from your head anyway.
Scarves, you have the option of long-enough-to-swaddle-yourself or so-loosely-knit-you-may-as-well-not-wear-one. Either way, you can guarantee to get a mouth full of dog hair in your first breath.
Outside the bin there is the coat rack. The coat rack covers the gamut from Dad's old letterman jacket to snow pants Mom wore to Peak and Peak in the 70's.
On the ground is another cardboard box of wool socks, which if you're desperate you can wear as mittens, but you will run into the same problems as previously mentioned.
Yes, we often looked like your corner homeless person. But when you're flying over drifts at 40 miles per hour...steering a sled so it hits the ramp you just built...or sweeping the snow off the ice to have a game of hockey...it really couldn't matter less.
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