Christmas Threw Up In My House

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

1. 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.
   


2. 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.
   


3. 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.
   


4. 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.
   


5. 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

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

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.

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

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

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

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.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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!

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.