Solstikwanzukahmas

December is such an eventful month. All that holiday goodness crammed in. Who could think of a better way to spend winter solstice eve, than the traditional sitting up all night in the ER with the toddler who ate a glass ornament off the tree? Mmmm...now there's a tasty and very crunchy holiday treat. Isn't that why mama hangs them on the tree? So you can pick the appley looking things for a yummy snack? And the wonderfully warm feelings that are shared when it's clear that nobody at the hospital believes he really ate it because he has no cuts and it doesn't show up on the x-ray, and clearly mom must have some kind of Munchausen's deal going on. But there's always a solstice miracle. Yes, little Angus Claus delivered that little diaper full of sparkly poop to his daddy the next day. Yes sir, there it was for all to see. I should have dropped it off at the registration desk as a thank you gift. It was quite festive looking.

Then of course, there are the Christmas specials that we watch every year. You know, the ones that are so classic that we know the words. We snuggle up with the kids to share the tradition. Like this one- sing along, don't be shy. I know you know the words..."Mr. Hanky the Christmas Poo, he loves me, I love you..." Makes you all warm and tingly, doesn't it? "I can't wait to jingle your bells, and falala your la..."

Making holiday treats with the kids is fun. My favorite part is trying to convince a toddler that marzipan isn't playdough and is edible, then trying to convince him that the playdough isn't marzipan and is NOT edible. Haha! Oh the larks we have!

Wrapping the presents and putting them under the tree is one of my favorite solstice/christmas activities. My mom showed up with bags of gifts from herself and my brother and my cousin, and as I placed the festively wrapped packages under the tree, one meowed at me. One had the nerve to say "this place looks like a pigsty!" That last one was Dusty the Talking Vacuum Cleaner. He's lucky my son loves him. Loud seemed to be the theme this year. My little brother, now an adult living across the country, continues his career in sibling irritation by sending my kids things like the Disney princess talking cash register and Tumble Time Tigger, who does cartwheels to MC Hammer music. It's his way. In addition, my kids got a Furby, a talking school bus, and an "interactive" US presidents thing where they press a button to learn about a president and it plays "Hail to the Chief" and ends with "Good night, and God bless America." That was from my strange cousin. She's really old. 'Nuff said. Mind you, I'm not the only one around here with a little brother. Their other uncle got them a musical instrument set. LOTS of them in there. Some that you bang on. I try not to think about it.

I know there's a denoument after the official celebration is over. It always kills me when the last cookie gets eaten. I really like cookies. But that holiday excitement returns with the roaring fire in the oven when you use the self-clean feature after spilling beef drippings. It's almost like the return of the sun after the longest night of the year. Flame on! Oooh, ahhh, pretty...cough cough. Then we open all the windows and doors so that the new year can blow out all the smoke. Yeah, that's it.

I hope your holidays are just as much fun as ours. And yes, I say "holidays" because I don't give a crap which ones you celebrate, I just hope they're happy.

X3 Teaser Screencap

"Listen Ri. Ya gotta stop breaking the danger room. Storm's getting really pissed."

Another Holiday Tradition Continues

Echoing my Thanksgiving turkey tradition, I'm only halfway through decorating the tree and it's already crispy. If only life were as consistent as holidays.

Is There No Justice??????

I finally found that stupid Netflix disk that's been lost for a week and now the red mailey thingie is missing! AAAAAAHHHHHHHGGGGGGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!!!

On the other hand, I finally found the picture I wanted to use for a tattoo. That's been lost for a couple of years now. I guess I can wait a week for another disk.

Astonishing

I like Emma trying to read telepathically through Wolvie's head.

When Elves Drink Too Much

Dickhead the Christmas Duck

We went to get a tree today. The guys there tied it on top of the van for me. I had to come up with a plan to get it down once I got home, as I can't reach up there without the assistance of technology, but then I realized it really doesn't matter because it's FRICKIN' COLD out there and I'm not going back out! Mr. Tannenbaum can have a nice little nitey-nite in the driveway and the much larger spousal unit will get it in the morning, when the sunlight gives the false hope that one's fingers might not turn blue and break off in the process.

Meanwhile, my littlest princess is traumatized because some dumbass six-foot duck hugged her while I was getting bagels. Yes, it's that kind of store. Oh man. Every so often she breaks into tears, followed by sobbing "Mommy I don't like the duck". I am almost of the mind to go back there and kick that duck's ass. Actually, I was of that mind at the time, which is why he left in a hurry to go harrass other customers. Of course, I feel like an ass because a duck hugged my kid while I was getting bagels. Nice work, mom. Way to look after your kid responsibly. What if he had been Duck the Ripper? Perhaps I can beat out my guilt upon Mr. Duck. Hmmm. I don't think I'm doing anything this weekend...

And now, I am going to take my frozen ass over to my rocking chair with a big steaming cup of expensive cocoa and read "historical fiction" until my husband gets home.

Set Me Up, Petey!

Thank you thank you to Joan (one of my favorite photo goddesses) for finding this fabu pic of Wolvie in the midst of a Fastball Special! (for those of you who don't know what that is, it's when he has to go really far or really high, so Colossus just picks him up and throws him.) Ah, I could gaze at it all day, but alas, I must go change a poopy diaper. No, it is not mine.

Angus: 2:10

And he held the fork aloft and said unto them "Pantate! Ummmm!" and they were amazed.

Another Brilliant Newsflash

MSNBC has posted yet another piece of urgent medical news, entitled "Longer Needles Needed for Fatter Butts." It's starting to look like The Onion.

I'm Having a "Traditional" Thanksgiving.

That's right, it's noon and my turkey is still frozen.

Cooking Shows Should Carry Warnings

"DO NOT TRY THIS AT HOME"

I just made some seriously weird shit for dinner. I'm trying to rescue it by baking it in the oven. It was supposed to be fried. Rachel Ray, you are seriously messed up. I know, some of you tried to warn me about her, but it looked so easy and homey. I got sucked in. I'm a total food slut. "Look, you can make it crispy and cheesy and..." YEAH! When will I learn? Julia, why did you ever leave us?

Dubloons Accepted

My kids like to play restaurant. Today it's Cafe Aaargh!!! They serve seafood, kelp cookies, sea horse milk, and citrus fruits (because, my daughter told me, friends don't let friends get scurvy!). They said that if you arrive at the cafe and there is nobody at the hostess station and nobody comes when you ring the bell, you should run because it means they're being raided by pirates and she's off trying to save their goods. Likewise, if you are dining and an alarm goes off, it is a pirate raid and you should draw your sword. If you don't have a sword, run for it. They have a special offer right now. For two dollars you can get a coupon for two full dinners. The money goes to a charity to prevent and cure scurvy.

I don't remember being this demented when I was that young. Mine developed over time.

This Needs a Caption...

I Anticipate the Next Big Announcement

There's an article on MSN entitled, (and like Dave Barry says, I'm not making this up) "Obesity Pills Work Best With Diet, Excercise". Yes, somebody, and I pray it was not we taxpayers, funded a STUDY to find this out! Thank goodness for people with medical degrees, huh? The rest of us would never know this stuff if not for their superior intelligence and education. I mean, who could have guessed such a thing? As for it qualifying as news, well, that's another topic.

Someone Needs to Be Beaten

As is often the case, it's someone in the world of advertising. The latest thorn in my side is the phrase "artisan bread". Oooh, I hate this. I guess "gourmet", which was meaningless in the first place but served its purpose well, has lost its impact. I would think that the phrase, used simply as it is and not as an advertising catch phrase, means bread that is not only hand-made by a person, but also has an individual characteristic that has been achieved by artful development and would not be duplicated by somone else. The combination of grains and the texture of crust perhaps. It is individual, and not just a skill, a job, a production, but an art. Not for mass production. Yet, I'm hearing it a lot more. The Panera chain uses the term. Their bread is very good, but simply by being a chain, they negate that characteristic. If they were a single bakery with one or two people making bread, each in his or her own way and you couldn't get it at any other bakery, that would be one thing. This? No. Yesterday I actually saw a coupon for Pepperidge Farm frozen "artisan bread" dough! WTF? And this year, our church's harvest festival put it on the flier. It was still the same bread they sell every year, but since they're calling it "artisan", they charged like two dollars more per loaf or something, which basically is what it comes down to. "Artisan" is the new "gourmet" and the only difference between it and regular bread will be a couple of bucks.

The worst part- yuppies will fall for it and spread it around like herpes. Good bakers will have to adopt the term to keep up with the market and then the price of a decent loaf of bread will be completely absurd. I can't stand what those frickin' yuppie dorks do to food. They elevate the trendy, whether it's crap or not. In a couple of years there will be a different trendy wine, vodka, chocolate, whatever, and guess what. The former trendy one will still taste the same, but the taste was never the point in the first place. Don't tell them that of course. Does not compute. Just hope that they don't discover YOUR favorite "whatever" because soon, you won't be able to afford it anymore and the only ones who can are the ones who won't know enough to appreciate it. But fear not, eventually it will fall from grace and though you may be considered fashionably ignorant, it's better than being fashionably idiotic. Artisan bread. They're fuckin' kidding me.

The Strange Legacies We Leave

My dad died on Sunday. Today when I was doing dishes, I noticed his coffee mug on the side of the dish rack. That's where it always stayed, waiting for him. For some reason, he didn't like to put it in the cabinet with the rest of the mugs. No, HIS had a unicorn on it and could not be subjected to the cooties of the more common inhabitants of my cupboard. This mug survived The Great Mug Disaster of Nineteen Eighty-somethingorother. He had a small galley kitchen. There was a narrow "wall" that was actually more like a pillar at one end of the kitchen on which he had a rack to hang the mugs on. Well, one day when he was making dinner and doing "ballet", he decided to combine some kind of pirouette with some kind of jete and kicked the whole rack off the wall. No, dad wasn't a dancer, he was a regular guy (mostly) which is what made it all the more embarrassing and caused him to blame it on the cats when his live-in girlfriend asked him what the hell happened to the mugs. A couple survived, one of which was his unicorn mug. His very favorite. That was a close one. Needless to say, he was more careful about combining ballet and cooking. So now I have this mug and I'm wondering what to do with it. Should I put it in the cabinet to catch cooties from my other mugs? Should I use it when I already have two other mugs that are my regular ones? Should I leave it on the rack where he put it? Hmmm...

We Made These

I'll write some thoughts about our halloween later. And I do have thoughts.

CRANKY!!!!!!

I waited until the baby was asleep and I rolled out another pie crust. I started to make the filling. I followed the recipe until the end, and THAT'S when I realized that they had left out a step! I poured in the filling, thinking it was awfully runny, and after it went into the oven, I realized I hadn't done anything with the brown sugar mixture. It was supposed to go in UNDER the liquid and now it's going to be gross so why is it even in the oven? Idunno. Because I'm an idiot. I'm very, very unhappy, in a grumbly, not friendly sort of way.

A Bright Spot

What a crappy, crappy, crappy day. It was good to hear that the Cafe Du Monde reopened today. At least I know that one thing is right in the world. Now if I could just be there right now.

In Case You Are Wondering

I'm sitting here NOT making six dozen pumpin-shaped, orange frosted cookies. I'm not doing the tons of laundry that need to be done. I'm not doing any school lessons with the kids, and I'm not out shopping for stuff I need in the next few days. Well, well. I did, however, eat breakfast, get relatively dressed, and do a load of dishes. Hearing the dishwasher going is always encouraging to me.

I'm not particularly tired as I sometimes am, and I'm not feeling blue or anything. The kids aren't being evil. I just feel like sitting here. For no particular reason. Just sitting here. Well, my ritalin is kicking in, and that always brings me to my senses. I swear that damn pill practically talks to me. "Now Rima, it's not so hard. Just go over there, and do this. See? That was simple. Now do this. That's it, you're doing great! It's not complicated at all."

So in a few minutes, I will be mixing cookie dough while the kids have their elevensies. Then we'll clean up the foodage and I'll work on Alex's history project with her while guiding Stevie through whatever workbook section she feels like working on. I will, at that time, be completely ignoring the screaming and the crayon missiles being launched by my son. And then, Idunno. Piano, lunch, laundry, math, desperate need for a nap, suddenly inspired Jackman's Table entry... could be anything.

Good Dr. Doggie!

I was browsing through a women's magazine while sipping my morning coffee. There was an article in which several doctors were interviewed for medical advice that they think is important but that most people don't think of. There were expected things, of course, like how every household should have Benadryl and baby aspirin on hand, but my favorite piece of medical advice was this: To insure proper medical care in a hospital, bring individually wrapped treats like cookies and chocolate to give the staff members. I wonder if that was a full-credit course in medical school, or just one of those pass/fail, half-credit things.

Epitaph: She died of pie.

Did you know that you can hurt yourself with chocolate? I didn't know that. I do now. You know that "death by chocolate" dessert that some restaurants have? Well, that isn't it. It's here, right in my kitchen and in my stomach, and I am afraid, very afraid. There are worse ways to die, but to never want to eat chocolate again, well, that's tragic. This is assuming that I survive. Tony Bourdain would not survive this pie. (though my crust, as usual, was to be worshipped) Let this be a warning so that lives may be saved! But tell eegee to send the recipe anonymously to Sardi's. Heh heh.

Unsupervised

The girls are in bed. The baby is asleep on the couch. This means one thing. I'M GONNA MAKE ME SOME PIE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

What Really Goes On at Our House

You know that baby toy that is made of different sized rings that they have to stack on the post? Well, my son unscrewed the post and is using it as a microphone to sing. He's a year and a half old. And yes, I'm well aware that it's after eleven pm. That's just my life.

Those Wacky Scots

I recently went to a Scottish festival, which was a lot of fun, and many clans had tents set up where you could go and get info on them and meet fellow clansfolk. They are all listed in the program, along with their mottos. This made for good reading. Typically, they are about being brave, being strong, being steadfast, etc. Clan MacKintosh, however, seems to be a little more special. Their motto is "Touch not the cat without a glove". Hmmm.

Now I wonder, is this a safety thing or a cleanliness thing? Were they germ freaks and could have basically picked anything besides "cat"? "Milk not the cow...", "Shear not the sheep..." etc. Or is it a safety issue, where they know cats scratch so wear a glove when you touch them. OR do they mean the CAT has to wear gloves to cover the claws? Did the MacKintoshes put gloves on their cats? Can you picture how the vermin must have taunted the poor things, not to mention the dogs, though I would assume the dogs had their own similar problems imposed upon them. Probably diapers.

Now our clan motto is "Dread God". (Well, not mine really, my husband's. I'm Puerto Rican and our clan motto is "Ever on guard for falling coconuts") Supposedly, that means to have a healthy fear and respect for God, but I'm married to one and I'm pretty sure that it's because they were naughty lads. I bet there was lots of "Oh please oh please oh please God, if ye let me live, I swear I'll not touch another drap o cratur" ZZZZAP! and " I wasnae kissin' Jenny, I was savin' her from chokin', cross my heart and hope te ACK!"

He's at it again...

I am amazed, truly amazed at how deceptive the size of a toddler's stomach is. Angus had another pukefest. He's sleeping now. I was lucky that I had a clean pair of sweatpants left so I can pick up my husband at the station tonight. Our couch needs to be condemned.

And on a completely unrelated note, if you are a "lassie", and a Scotsman asks you if you have any Scottish in you, don't answer! It's a trick!

AAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!! CALL 911!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I was cooking dinner when Angus came to me, holding his finger out in front of himself, squeaking and looking distressed. I assumed he had boobooed it and wanted it kissed. As my lips touched the adorable, little, pink fingertip, I realized that he wasn't hurt, he was showing me a booger!!!!!!!

Remember when Snoopy kissed Lucy? Yeah, that was me!

Mmmm, Oooey Hughey Wolverchops...

Maybe His Penis Kept Getting in the Way.

I have a cheap, laminate and plastic, piece-o-crap violin that I thought would make a nice wall decoration. So after we painted the livingroom, I asked my husband to hang it up for me. For some reason he said it wasn't possible. He said he needed to do research. Whaaaa???? Ooookay. I was getting impatient about it and wondered if he had finished doing his research on whacking two nails into a wall, but no, he asked for more patience.

So months later, last night, he returned home with a rather obtrusive, padded contraption with a block of wood for a base, that attaches to the wall. (I wonder if he did research on how to attach the block of wood to the wall) It is a special hanger for a real instrument that is played every day by a musician. It's for them to store it within reach, rather than have to go in and out of the case all the time. It's not for attaching a decoration to your wall. It would be like creating a big, padded set of brackets to hang a picture on a wall. I'm not looking to store my real violin, I'm looking to decorate the living room with a fake one. Then again, I'm female so I don't constantly have visions of complicated hardware and engineering feats running through my brain. I got stuff to do.

So with his idea rejected, this morning he asked me "what my vision is" for it. I think he has been too long in the entertainment industry. I don't "have a vision". I just wanted the damn thing nailed to the wall. He said he would think about what he needed to do to make that happen. Jeez Louise.

Of course, when he left for work, I got two pieces of scotch tape, two nails, a hammer, and voila! My "vision" has appeared. Whew, that was tough!

Home Schooling Vs. Traditional Schooling

There are countless reasons why people are for or against home schooling. Some political, some social, educational, etc. and on and on, but here is the real bottom line.

In school, when you do a nice job on your multiplication tables, you get a gold star or a smiley face. At home, when you do a nice job on your multiplication tables, you get to watch "Attack of the Giant Leeches".

'nuff said

My Darling Son

Just ralphed in my hand. Don't worry, I washed them before posting. He has also removed and hidden the "childproof" safety lock we finally found to keep him out of the dishwasher. It's probably with the cable box card that we never found. We used to have a very naughty cat who would hide the waterguns while we were sleeping so that we couldn't squirt him when he was misbehaving. They would have made a dangerous team.

FEMA is no longer giving the evacuees debit cards. I can understand that, but the solution they came up with is a head slapper. Hurricane victims are required to apply for FEMA aid through their website. Yes, on the computers they don't have with the electricity they don't have. When they do this, they will get a direct deposit into their bank that doesn't exist anymore, but they can always use the atm cards that they left in their now nonexistent homes.

Now, I can see one really stupid person at FEMA suggesting this, but I can't see everyone else saying "oh yeah that's a good idea!" I mean, it's kind of obvious, isn't it????

POP QUIZ!

Okay, here's where we see if you guys have been paying attention.

This morning my husband left and won't be back until late Saturday night. Guess what Angus just started doing?

In Denial?

Then read this. http://www.lifeaftertheoilcrash.net/ And not to add to the panic or anything, but there will be a chocolate shortage, with prices climbing soon.

At Least They Haven't Started the Hazing

Poor, poor, new harem boy. Sir Paul and Wolverine were trying to explain to him that people named James who are cool don't actually use it. They go by a completely unrelated name, like Paul or Logan or Wolverine. Wolvie offered him Emilio, since he's not using it anymore, but Jamie didn't like it. Yes, he likes to be called Jamie, and you know what happened when they heard that? Tino and Craig pantsed him while Bobby hit him in the head with a rack of ribs for having a sissy-boy name. So no James or any derivative, ESPECIALLY not Jamie. For now, they're calling him New Guy, or worse. I can't repeat them here. He's taking it like a man though. He says being a harem boy of mine is worth any suffering. So true, so true. For your viewing pleasure, here's a picture of New Guy.

Devastation in the South

I just can't believe what these people are going through. I can't imagine being separated from my children, how it would feel for them, how they would survive, how we could ever possibly find each other again. I can't imagine having to hide my family in a dark corner somewhere, to keep them safe from the fighting and shooting.

My daughter had her piano lesson today. She has always shied away from jazz pieces, not really liking them and having difficulty with their rhythm. Today she decided to learn one because jazz comes from New Orleans and she wants this to be her personal tribute. Her teacher took that lightheartedly, but I had to keep from crying. I hope that someday she'll be able to play in that once beautiful city, and that it will be beautiful then too.

I'm thankful that the majority of the devastated area is NOT full of shooting and looting and fighting and killing, but of people trying to help each other as best they can. I have no words for our government. At least none that won't put me on the homeland security shit list.

Size Really Does Matter

I've been trying to understand this for a long time and it just escapes me. Why do the little pieces of Doritos taste better than a regular sized chip? Coffee tastes better in a teacup than in a mug. Muffins taste better if you eat them by breaking off little pieces instead of biting from the whole thing. But cookies- definitely bigger is better. No question. The science of this completely escapes me.

New Harem Boy

Mowing and weed whacking commence tomorrow.

Well, I didn't get the photos I wanted, but I got two that are good enough. Now the main problem is deprogramming. He is a rabid Red Sux fan. I haven't told the others yet, as they will turn him into hamburger. Here is Bobby cooking the last Red Sux fan to enter the house. He's trying to shake his remains out of whatever power tool another (who shall remain nameless) harem boy attacked him with.

Harem Troubles

I'm trying to add another harem boy to mow the lawn shirtless and "stuff", but his people just won't cooperate. His audition was unprecedented and all I need is a couple of photos but they are most uncooperative. I'm going to have to send in Kristin. That'll teach those self-important ninnies. Really, they're holding up my paperwork!

Be Afraid. Be Very Afraid.

So what the hell is a chicken fry? Just hearing the words, I assume that it's like a clam bake or a pig roast, but according to a television commercial that I saw the other night, it's some weird kind of fast food substance that comes in a french fry box. Again, I ask you. What the hell is a chicken fry?

(I do not condone actually trying said substance to find out and I am not liable for any damage resulting from such an experiment)

The Miss America Pageant in a Nutshell

Here's what one contestant had to say about keeping fit.

"I cut holes out of trash bags and wore them while I ran," says Miss Nevada 2004, Elizabeth Muto. "It really detoxified my body and, to this day, I continue to see results."

Is there really anything more to say?

I Watched "Troy"

It didn't suck as badly as "King Arthur" did. Brad Pitt has improved since "Interview With the Vampire". Orlando Bloom was Orlando Bloom. I liked some of the actors in it. Peter O'Toole makes me laugh, even in the most serious roles. I don't know why. He's just like that. The guy who played Boromir in LOTR played Odysseus, which was really cool. Odysseus is one of my favorite guys of all time. I wouldn't trust him for anything, but I really like him. Now, this Helen chick. Supposedly blessed by Aphrodite to be the most gorgeous and enchanting woman on the planet. Hmmm, you'd think that in Hollywood, there might have been a decent pool of beautiful women. Clearly, acting wasn't a requisite so that opens up the choices a bit. They cast someone who was pretty in a regular sort of way. I remember her from when she was on General Hospital or something years back when I actually watched it. She had brown hair and was about eleven years old. Something freaky about that. Brian Cox was Agamemnon, another guy who makes me giggle, despite his tragic and sometimes wicked life. I don't know why. Maybe it's because he was such a freakin' idiot. I mean, get a clue. Anyway, Brian Cox played an equally obnoxiously evil character in "X-2" as Reverend Stryker. (Oh excuse me, that's COLONEL Stryker. I forgot it's Bryan Singer's universe. @@ Read a comic book, dude?)

Anyway, when I read about the Trojan war (stop laughing, and you know you are) or see a movie like this, several thoughts come to mind. One, if I were Paris' mother/father/brother/sister/whatever, I would have beaten the snot out of him for bringing all of Greece to slaughter us and burn our homes because he was thinking with his dick. True love my ass. Like looks had nothing to do with it.

If I were Hector's wife ( I don't remember her name and I didn't get to hear it since my husband installed "better" speakers) I would have given Paris a second whuping after he ran like chicken shit from Menelaus, leaving my husband to fight his little love spat for him. And then after Hector's slaughter, when Helen tried to comfort me, I'd bitch slap her empty little head right off her shoulders. Man, what were these people thinking? When I read Greek plays and stuff, I notice a theme. I call it "STOOOPUD". Did they all get too much sun or something?

And the skirts. Oy. Those guys are not Scotsmen. No way. They look like girlie soldiers, they really do. It was kinda fun, but not really. Mostly for the comedy aspects. Rent it or not.

It's a Strange World

We live on the corner of our street. The very first (or last) house on the block. The mail carrier always parks in front of the house NEXT DOOR. That would be the second house on the block. He or she then walks all the way down to the other end of the street and starts delivering mail. He or she then gets back to the truck, next door to our house, and proceeds to get in and DRIVE to our house. Maybe thirty feet. Gets out, puts the mail in our mailbox, and drives away. Every time. WTF is up with that?

In other weird behavior, today I saw a stinging thingie, a hornet or something, pick up an entire grasshopper (one of those big ones like Moses used to use) and fly away with it. That was just freaky.

What? WHAT?

What the hell is a sleep number and why should we care?

No, reliving every horrible moment of my day won't make me feel better, but it might get you a good smack so then again, maybe it will.

Today I saw some undies that were nothing but ruffles. 'Cause nothing makes a girl feel sexier than doubling the size of her ass and hips.

And if I have to listen to that toothpaste commercial twit and her bleached blonde hair giggling about her red lipstick ever again, I'm going to throw a shoe through the tv. You know a man wrote that stupid shit. I don't care how much she got paid, she should feel shame every time it airs.

Now go away and leave me alone before I bite you.

Wisdom of the Ages

Today I had a conversation with my 3yo that lead to a question of left or right, which she usually gets but didn't this time. So my 7yo said "I've been alive for seven years so that's an easy question for me. Yup, when you ask me that, I can just say 'left'. I've known left and right for years now."

Then she used her worldly experience to advise her little sister on going to work with Daddy.
7yo: I'm telling you, going to work with Daddy is awesome! But you have to watch him carefully. Don't let him play any violent video games and don't let him eat at McDonald's.

3yo: I won't!

7yo: And if you do catch him doing that stuff, you have to tell mom so she can yell at him.

I'm in Love!!!!!!!!!!

Mundungus

It's what I call my son. He's always where he shouldn't be, doing things he shouldn't be doing, taking things that don't belong to him, and he has a particular fondness for the silverwear drawer. He undoes the babyproofing locks and goes under the baby gate on the stairs. Yesterday he stole the card out of the cable box. We've looked everywhere we could think of. When I looked in the file cabinet, I found his stash and it was amazing. There was a spatula, two spoons, a bracelet, a couple of ponytail holders, a photograph, Brian's former comb, and some cheerios. Of course, the card wasn't in there and we still haven't found it. I'm pretty sure it's not his only hiding place. Whenever we ask him where it is, he laughs at us. I checked the dishwasher because he's always in there. I mean IN there. He opens it up and climbs on in. I haven't figured out how to keep him out. That's just the tip of the iceberg. My little Mundungus. What to do.

Trust me, that's just a technicality

My 3yo: (to me) Wow, you draw really good! You could be a drawer when you grow up!

My 7yo: Um, she's over eighteen you know.

Dumping out my brain...

Can someone please tell me what "microwave safe" means? Does it just mean that it won't make your microwave explode? I thought it meant that the dish in question wouldn't get hot enough to melt your face off, which they indeed seem to do, even if some of the food is still cold. I didn't know that glazed stoneware was full of fat and water. Gee, the things you learn.

And speaking of learning things, it's true- if you move to Hollyweird, you get brain cooties. Perfectly normal people become mental.

And speaking of Hollyweird, I watched a movie last night for the first time in a long time. It was "King Arthur". It was boring, the end.

And speaking of boring, Hillshire Farms lite keilbasa is missing the salt.

And speaking of keilbasa- no no no. That belongs on my other blog. It always comes back to Hugh, doesn't it?

I'm Officially Toasted

My brain is gone, completely gone. I sent my daughter to check on the baby because he was being so quiet that I figured he was up to something. Oh he was up to something alright. Sleeping in my lap!!!!!!!!! God I'm messed up.

Harry Potter #6

This contains spoilers so if you read it, don't whine to me that I ruined your life. Here's your warning. The rest is your choice.







I really liked this book. Of course, I expected to. I really liked all of them. I didn't, however, feel about it the way others told me I would. I didn't feel upset, betrayed, etc. I don't think they realized half of what they read. I'm seeing things very differently than they are. I don't think Dumbledore's death is what they saw it as. I think they're in for some real surprises in the next book.

I'm glad for a few things- that Lupin found love; that Hermione and Ron weren't thrown into a romantic relationship, though their feelings are clearly there; and I'm especially glad that Fleur was redeemed at the end. It disturbs me when an exceptionally beautiful woman is portrayed as shallow and selfish. Clearly there was more to her than that, given her competition in the Triwizard Cup. I think that stereotype is divisive, not to mention offensive and untrue. Women are what they are, beautiful or not. I'm glad she put her future MIL in her place, although I love Molly to pieces. Molly reminds me of myself. I'm also glad Molly was able to accept her and make a loving gesture when she saw the truth.

Now if I could only get my hands on some Puking Pastilles...

I Just Want to Know One Thing

Why is there a pistachio inside our air conditiner?

Happy Happy Joy Joy

Wolvietat had been tagged by another blogger to list ten things that bring her joy throughout the day. I thought that was nice. I'll give it a shot, though it changes with the seasons. Here are my current happy moments, in random order.

1. Watching my son's cheek fat jiggle when he walks
2. The smell of the trees
3. The sound of the dishwasher
4. Hearing my daughter practice the piano and realizing she's my daughter
5. The sound of the cicadas (but not the sight! Eew! shoot me!)
6. Seeing my husband's number on the caller ID
7. Reading a new story post at Jackman's Table
8. Coffee
9. Seeing the children snuggled up together
10. When my daughter mispronounces something cute

Oh hell, let's add some more. I could use the encouragement.

11. The feel of wool and wooden knitting needles
12. The moment my husband finally comes to bed and I snuggle up and fall asleep
13. My son trying to play peekaboo
14. The sight of a freshly weeded garden bed
15. The smell of the garden
16. The sight of all the cute, wiggly little toes in this house
17. SNIKT!

Okay, I'm too tired to think of any more. Nighty night.

Silly Little Man!

FOOLISH MORTAL: I swear dude, it was better than a pastry chef!
WOLVIE: *chuckle* Bub, ain't NOTHIN' better than a pastry chef. 'Cept maybe a librarian.

I'm baking a carrot cake today. I was looking at some online reviews of the recipe I'm using and some were pretty amusing. There's one chick who was displeased because it didn't come out good at all, even though she "followed the recipe EXACTLY". Then she goes on to tell about the substitutions she made, and the adjustment in baking time because she has a special kind of oven that bakes differently. Uh, okay. And then she complained because she had made it for her boyfriend who is "VERY PICKY" and she was afraid to give him any because she knew he wouldn't like it and now she had nothing to give him. Honey, dump the loser. If I spent that much work on something, my husband would eat it and if it tasted like crap, he'd just toss it aside and...well, nevermind. He'd appreciate my efforts.

Another person said the cake was "Excellent!" but then said hers never actually baked all the way and was mostly raw. Hmmm, okay. One lady said that the cake is her husband's new best friend. I assume then, that nobody is allowed to eat it. Then there's the person who said it came out "better than a pastry chef". Well, maybe, maybe not. Has he ever tried a pastry chef?

One person said it's "good but very unhealthy". It's CAKE! You know, as in dessert? Sweets? Treats? No good for you? Silly person. Okay, it's true that I tend to use carrot cake as a meal substitute, but at least I know what I'm doing. I don't tell myself, "hey, you know what would be better for me than some grilled chicken and salad?" Well, I'm off to grate more carrots now. Mmmm...

An "Is it Me?" Thought

Sometimes there are things that I find to be common sense no-brainers. Obvious enough, yet nobody else seems to think so. I don't know why. My current example is this supreme court justice poo. Each president tries to tip the balance by appointing a conservative or liberal judge. I don't understand this at all. Aren't the scales of justice supposed to be level? Isn't justice supposed to be blind? Don't they have that very statue in front of their courthouse? I would think that appointing a judge with a liberal or conservative record would be unconstitutional. I would think that they don't qualify because the supreme court is supposed to be neutral and serve the entire country, not just the groups that happen to agree with the current administration. Shouldn't only judges with an even track record be allowed to serve? And let's remind them of that while we're at it, that they're supposed to SERVE us, not rule over us. I think it's probably something they forget, having been appointed for their personal opinions. Really, does this make sense to anyone else and why does nobody mention it?

Don't Leave Me Unsupervised

http://www.shamelessrestaurants.com/readstory_new.php?uid=1506

I have nothing to say in my defense. I was feeling naughty and I did it.

LOL!

Okay, let me start by saying that I'm not catty and I have nothing against Mariah Carey, but I saw this picture and it cracked me up so bad that I had to share it. I'm PRAYING that this was photoshopped. I understand the concept of contouring, like when you use blush to emphasize your cheekbones or whatever, but this is just above and beyond ridiculous! They painted on cartoon superhero abs! She looks like my freakin' avatar! I have to wonder if she looked in the mirror before she went out. Another option would be to wear a shirt that goes all the way down. I know she's not used to that but honey, time doesn't stand still no matter how much money you have, and she's gotta do it sometime. She's gonna hit that forty mark soon. Hey, if she still looks that good, more power to her, let her wear whatever she wants, but apparently, it's becoming an issue for her. I mean, that's gotta be desperation. Oh man, I'm still cracking up.

Miss Manners Looks for Dirt

The other day, Alex went to that craft camp at Michael's. When we picked her up, Stevie asked her "did you boopsie (their polite word for fart) at the other kids?" Alex looked shocked and said "of course not". Then Stevie said "Did you pick your nose?" I just cracked up. Alex was looking at me like "what is her problem?"

More Trouble in Paradise

Sometimes I wonder if they're more trouble than they're worth. It seems that a certain bad boy has been moonlighting, according to harem universe.com. Methinks there's a serious demotion coming. Somebody is going to spend quite a lot of time cleaning Tino's cleats.

Noisy Neighbors

"I don't care if he's your husband. If he doesn't stop snoring I'm gonna trach him!"

Because I Really Need it...

Now that makes me feel a little better.

During dinner this evening, my daughter went to put ketchup on her hamburger and my 3yo yelled "Squeeze the hell out of it Alex!"

The Politics of My Imaginary Love Life

We're in summer reruns now, which is kinda good because I miss stuff. Last night I watched The Late Late Show, and it was about a month old. First, Craig did a really good, really funny impersonation of Garrison Kiellor, which I was really impressed with and so I gave him a harem promotion. Unfortunately, he then asked a guest, "What's the Tony awards?" which knocked him back down again. I'm concerned that Hugh isn't doing a proper job of educating him. Okay, so he's a busy man. Priorities!

Overenthusiastic Journalists

I'm reading reports of the London bombings. An article on MSN said "New York was on heightened alert Thursday." It IS Thursday. Later in the article it said that Union Station in New Haven was evacuated late Thursday afternoon. It is currently 12:29 pm on Thursday. Do they know something that we don't?

The Final Frontier

My 7yo to her grandfather: I have a friend in Philadelphia who's moving far away to another continent. Timbuktu, I think.

Me: Detroit.

My 7yo: Oh yeah, Detroit. That was it.

It's the Rebel in Me.

I would have done it anyway, but somehow, being in a bad mood gave me some satisfaction when I did it. The box said "do not prepare taco shells in toaster oven". Haha. Just try to stop me!

Weird Moment

I just found myself saying to my daughter, without even thinking about it, "If you don't eat your meat, you can't have any pudding." I'd say it was a flashback, but I never took drugs.

One morning during our vacation in Vermont, one of these was on our patio screen. Isn't it beautiful? It's about four inches across. It's a Luna moth. It looks just like leaves with dewdrops. Unfortunately, although they aren't yet endangered, their population is decreasing rapidly. See, they find each other by glowing in the moonlight, and with all the artificial light from lamp posts, parking lot lights and other outdoor security lights as well as the glow from windows, they're being led astray. How sad. I feel very lucky to have seen one and shown it to my children. It was just so beautiful. The picture doesn't do it justice. Gypsy moths and Tent Caterpillar moths, on the other hand, should be fed to each other.

Wave the flag woohoo.

I'm starting to hate this place. Go ahead and call me unamerican. It doesn't matter, because I'm not rich enough to count as an American anyway. The government decides who has rights and who doesn't. You have to pay for them.

If Walmart wants to build a store and they happen to like your block, say goodbye to your house. They'll pay you pennies on the dollar, essentially stealing your home and your money. Then, of course, there's no way in hell you could afford to buy another house with that pittance because they cost a mint. But it's for the good of the people. "People" apparently meaning not you, because you don't have billions of dollars. Yes, when I think of ways to improve my community, I don't think of schools, roads, libraries, hospitals, I think shopping malls. Right. Maybe the new homeless of New London can pitch tents in the parking lot, if they're willing to pay enough rent.

Of course, this will never happen in Beverly Hills or Southport or Scarsdale. It will happen in the poor and middle class neighborhoods. Mostly the poor. They have always fed the rich. And the rich complain about paying for welfare. Yes, I see what a strain it puts on their family budgets. Puhleese. I can't imagine what the supreme court justices were smoking when they made this legal. Twenty dollar bills?

We don't live in a free market economy, but a free market society and that's just wrong.

MIA

It's been quite a while since my last post. I was busy, a week away, busy, feeling crappy. Now I'm back again, and will eventually relate my vacation tales, but for now you'll just have to be placated with my Dumbass Lyrics of the Day. Alas, they come from Paul McCartney, as many do while he sits in his smoky haze.

We went to town with the library
and we swung all over that long tall bank in the main street

That's just total wackadoodleness.

Aaaaarrrrggh!

I should not have complained about yesterday. Today was even worse. Do I hold out hope for tomorrow? No, not really. I think I'm going to have an alcoholic beverage tonight, assuming I actually get the chance while it's still tonight! Ugh. Bleah. I figure in about two hours, I can either enjoy a split of champagne while painting my toenails, or I can fall into an exhausted, unconcious, pathetic heap. I'm figuring on that second option. And no, I didn't get a chance to sew that stupid dance costume.

I can't wait for it to be over

Well, it's dance recital time again. It's not that I don't enjoy seeing my daughter perform, it's the getting there that hurts. Yesterday she got her costumes. She has two. One, she's performing in. The other, she was going to perform in, until I found out that that class performs the day before and no way in hell am I dragging all three kids there twice, and then rush up to some little town near Massachussetts for her piano recital that evening. Nope. But we got to keep the costume. So the one she's performing in is not remotely her size. They say they measure the kids. I don't know what they mean by that. They got her an 8-10. I don't think she'll be that size until she's in college. She looked like she was wearing my pants. And of course, they're not regular pants. They're ruffled bell bottoms. Her teacher said to me, "well, you'll have to cut them and sew them..." and I just stopped her and said "Uh, yeah. Right." Pardon me? I'm supposed to do this how? With a wave of my magic wand? Cause I sure as hell can't do it with my sewing machine. Do they think all mothers are seamstresses? So I don't know what the hell to do, but whatever it is, I have to do it TODAY because their picture day is tomorrow. Way to give us enough time, huh?

So the costume she's not wearing- Thank the gods! I opened the bag and there's a little sequined thingie with a diagonal shoulder strap and a piece of elastic dangling from it. I assume that piece is the other shoulder strap, which I must fit and sew, but I'm not sure where to sew the other end. Then, there's a strip of sequined stuff, which I assumed I was supposed to sew over the strap. Then there's a black glittery cap, and a bag of feathers. That's right, a bag of feathers. When I opened this up, I was like "What the?" So I sat for a while thinking of many possible ways to put this thing together. Finally, I went and found a catalog picture of it and NONE of my possibilities was correct! You'd think that for a hundred freakin' bucks a pop, the damn company could afford a sewing machine and a freakin' hot glue gun!

The other mom who opted out of that number from the beginning said "I saw the look on your face when you opened that costume and I'm sooooo glad we're not in it!" Yeah, me too. Maybe some day I'll put it together since we paid a ton of money for it. Hmmm. Could be one of my Vermont projects.

I really wish my girls would do martial arts instead.

Tis the Season for Porn on the Grill

Is it any wonder that Bobby Flay was a guest chef at Jackman's Table? I was watching his show yesterday and he was cooking some sizeable steaks. He said, (and I'm not the scriptwriter) "When you're done with a piece of meat, especially one this size, you have to let it rest because it's still hot and it will still be runny." I remember one show last summer when he was grilling some burgers. He was really putting his all into making these burgers and he said "You really want to pack in as much meat as possible" and then he looked right at the camera, gave the burger a good smack and yelled "WHO'S YOUR DADDY?" I almost fell right off the couch. If I remember correctly, that's the show when he picked up the girl at the produce store.

I admit, I have some ribs cooking right now, basted in something called "Bone Sucking Sauce".

Jankee Beisbol!

So the Sux are just mopping the floor with our boys. Sad, so sad. But we watch anyway because we're fools. I've started getting the baby to talk. Now when he sees baseball, he waves to the tv and says "Hi Tee!" Tee, being Tino. You know what's weird? That pitcher they call "The Big Unit". Now, there's a funny nickname, but the funniest part is that it's no worse than his real name. Randy Johnson. I don't even want to know what his mother was thinking when she named him that.

Sunscreen

A few days ago, the 13yo girl who comes over to help out sometimes was here. We went out in the yard after my daughter's piano lesson. The sun was high and it was hot and it was blazing down on us. As I looked at this fair redhead with the full sun on her exposed white arms, I could just about hear a sizzle. I told her she should probably have on sunscreen and she said she was fine. I said it again and she declined. So I said "Look, do you want to be a shriveled old hag by the time you're thirty???" Ah, if only I had had my camera to capture the look on her face forever. She softly said "Um, okay. I'll go put on sunscreen" and went into the house and put some on. So later, my daughter told her that I'll be 37 in July and she couldn't believe it. She said "No way! You don't look that old!" So I said "See? Sunscreen." Haha. (I rarely use sunscreen. When I was a kid, the ozone was in the sky where it belongs, rather than down here in our lungs where it seems to have enjoyed settling.)

whine bitch complain

I can't believe that one picture screwed up my whole template. Unbelievable. Now I have to try fucking with it and I'm so not computer oriented. And I'm tired and I'm hungry, which has little to do with it, but as long as I'm complaining, I thought I'd throw it in.

Oh, well now, that was easy.

Oops! I Almost Forgot!

Thank you, Veronica for that delicious picture! I hope he's feeding you well during your recovery. Ask him to do the lobster ravioli. You won't regret it!

And Dinner When He's Not...

Dinner When Wolvie's Home

Is it me?

People who can't make change are just plain frightening.

Because I Know Everyone Loves to Read About Barf...

Well, in case anyone misinterpreted, no, my husband didn't come home early from his trip. He left later. He's coming home tonight. And he got hit with a touch of what we have here too. Yesterday was my son's turn. I haven't seen that much puke since my husband was in college. He was pretty cheerful about it though. He stayed happy and active all day, which is good, but sucks, since that means he was puking all over the house. At least my daughters can stay in one place and use a bucket.
He also seems to have an evil sense of humor. A couple of times he would walk up to me, give a tiny cough, stick his tongue all the way out and make puking sounds. Then he'd laugh at me when I'd grab the wipes or whatever. He's only a year old. It can only get worse.

Bless His Heart!

DH is coming home. I have to be up every hour to try to get the little monkey to take some more ice if she can hold it down. Then I'm supposed to drive to the doc's at 9am. Not a good thing. I also have ominous rumblings of my own, but it could be that I didn't really eat dinner (I didn't get anything until around 4 in the first place) and just took two advils for my threatening migraine. He's changing his flight. He's coming home. I love him. I totally love him.

It's Just Like I Told You

My husband has a wedding in Florida this weekend. We won't see him until late Monday night. Not even fifteen minutes after he was gone, our 3yo started to barf her head off. I'm washing everyone's hands like crazy. I'm so terrified that we'll all get it. While he lies on a warm, sandy beach. I don't know how he does it.

Oh. Man.

http://www.randomthink.net/misc/ebay/

I'm gonna throw out a whole bunch of stuff today. Even if I need it!

Insomnia?

It's not that I'm not tired, or even not sleepy. I'm both, but I'm too tense and antsy to go to bed. Feeling crappy, with unhappy thoughts. I got some bad news this evening to top off how poopy I was already feeling. I have two kids asleep on the couch and I have to carry them both upstairs and change them into pajamas. I'm too tired to do that. DH isn't coming home tonight so he can't help, and yet I'm still in wait up mode for him. If I could only GET to bed, I could probably sleep for a couple of hours. I wish he were coming home tonight. Bleah. This is major suckage.

And On a Lighter Note

You know that song, "Judy in Disguise"? I can't remember the last time I heard that, but for some reason it was going through my head today. Only it was different. First it was "Poopy little guys with glasses on..." Then it was "Droopy little thighs my ass is on..." I need some kind of help.

Being Old Sucks

My elderly neighbor recently went into a nursing home. Yesterday I spoke with his wife. She said they've been married for 67 years and now they're living apart and they're heartbroken. All they want is to live together again, but she doesn't have the care he needs at home. I'm so sad for them. I wish there were something I could do. I was up all night thinking about it. I was hugging Brian tight. I hope that never happens to us.

The Trouble With Free Stuff

Ugh. Now Hello won't work for either of my accounts. I need to get Photobucket or something. Not good on a day when I feel like crap.

Crumpet? 

He's Such a Nice Boy

This is Tino offering me the bat to spank him for not hitting a homer last night. No no, sweetie. You did great. Unless you want me to, I mean.

Disney Angst

My daughter was just mentioning that when Kanga and Roo first came to the Hundred Acre Woods, everyone was afraid of them. I'm not even going to explore the social significance of that because I think there's an even greater issue there. Why don't they talk like Aussies? Worse yet, why do all the critters talk like Americans? Aren't they in England? And what are kangaroos doing there anyway? As far as I know, kangaroos, like coconuts, are not migratory. I don't know if an English swallow migrates to Australia anyway and I doubt they could carry a kangaroo, even if they grip it by the husk. African swallows don't even come into play here. Wait, what was I saying? Oh yeah. So why does John Smith, an Englishman played by an Aussie, talk like an American? Okay, so he's played by an Aussie who's really from Poughkeepsie, but we can let that slide. And how much did his mother hate him to go and name him John with a last name like Smith? Then again, not much else goes with it. Reinaldo Smith doesn't really work. Giovanni Smith? Hmmmm, Sebastian! Yeah! That's the rockinest boy's name ever. I'm going to try to dub it onto the dvd. I'll have to ask if we have that technology.

Finding Ways Around Things...

So look at this. The buttons work in another browser. The browser I have used the whole time, even before my blog came to be, suddenly doesn't work with the buttons. I can write in blue if I use IE, but not Maxthon, though I used to. WTF??????? Look, orange!

I Wonder What This Means

It occurs to me that at least half of my harem boys are lefties. Hmmm. That's a far greater percentage than the general population. Something for me to ponder aimlessly, pointlessly, fruitlessly. I wish I had some cookies. No, brownies.

Late for a Ben Waa gig. Eegee's gonna kill him. Damn midtown traffic! 

Not Wolvie, but I love this one anyway. Kitty and Colossus, who I hope we'll see more of in X3 instead of that lameass Kitty/Rogue hybrid and her trying to make out with a barely pubescent version of Iceman saga. Do I sound bitter?

And I just looooooove this one. 

My favorite cover. One of my favorite storylines too. In this one, Jackman's Table has hired extra security for a special event. Ru Paul is not getting in.

'Sokay, I'm over it. 

Damn you I say!!!! 

I had to get a new account under a new alias that I have to try to remember. I'm not happy. Damn you Hello Bloggerbot! 

Bring it home to mama, baby! Woohoo!

Anyone watching the game? I have such great taste in harem boys. Yes I sure do. My pookie ookie wookie hit another homer tonight. Nah, I don't really call him that. Not to his face anyway. I wish I could post a picture of him here, but technical support says that maybe they'll address my problem if they get the chance sometime in the future if they feel like it don't hold my breath.

Now I'm Mad!

Bloggerspot still won't let me click any of the buttons to change color, italicize, etc. AND NOW I can't post any pictures because Hello won't work. I uninstalled and reinstalled it a million times now. It's what I use to chat with my honey while he's at work (apparently getting paid to send xo's over the internet). Well, I suppose it's time for that thing I've been dreading. Technical support. If I ever get it working again I'm going to just spam this thing with Wolverine pictures.

I Guess I Forgot

Last night I started a new belly dancing class. It reminded me of two things. One, I'm very bad at dancing. Two, I'm exhausted. Dancing requires movement. Movement that's not just shuffling your feet and trying to keep your eyelids from falling down. You have to act like you have some kind of energy and are glad to be using it. Like you have nothing else to use it for. Sure. After a long day, there's nothing I'd rather do than exert myself. Oh, and I'm supposed to smile. Why do I do these things?

The Secret of Mothers' Day

First, let me wish all the mothers here a wondeful day. And for the rest of you, some helpful hints on how to REALLY make a happy mothers' day. I know you want to get gifts and whatnot. Okay. But guess what. Lack of bath salts isn't the reason she doesn't take luxurious relaxing baths. A gift certificate for a manicure or massage would be just lovely sitting there on her dresser until it expires. Flowers are very pretty until they're dead the next day from lack of care, or dumped because the baby tried to put some in his mouth. Are you getting it yet?

I imagine a moment when I can GO GET a manicure, or take a hot bath, or get a massage. But there's that ironic thing about mothers' day again. Yep, it's that motherhood thing getting in the way. Crazy, isn't it?

Put away your wallet guys. What your wife really wants is for you to BE THERE. Step away from the computer...that's right, you can do it...no, NO! GET AWAY FROM THE LAWNMOWER DAMMIT! Go to the children. Yes, very good. I'm proud of you. So you've told her that you will take care of the kids while she spends an hour or two at the bookstore cafe. Good for you! Now, when she comes home, what will she find? Sure the children are alive. Nobody has swallowed drano or stuck a finger in a socket. But what about the rest of it? Did they eat when they were supposed to, or will that happen when mom comes home to feed them as they leap upon her, clawing and whining before she has her jacket off? Will she have to deal with the fingerpainting mess that occupied them while she was out? Was the bedtime routine delayed in favor of entertainment, for her to do when she comes home and the kids are extra tired and cranky? Hmmm. Let's try again.

"Honey, today (whatever day it is that you have off) I will be the primary caregiver. You pretend you're me. Need to do something? Go ahead! Who's stopping you? Need a nap before dinner? Okay, I'll wake you when I'm about to serve. I'll take over the usual stuff because I'm their parent too. Sorry kids, you still have to clean up your mess."

You will notice by the end of the day that mommy probably looks prettier. She's not yelling. She is willing to play cards and stuff. Wow, who knew? I did, and now you do too.

EEW!!!! BOY COOTIES!!!!!!!!!

I took my kids to a birthday party today. It was at a K of C hall. The ladies' room was on our floor, the men's room was in the basement. There was a little boy there, about six years old. He had to pee. He couldn't find the men's room so he used the ladies' room, which was empty. Well, when some of the girls saw him go in, they freaked out and in turn so did their parents. I couldn't figure this out. The poor kid had to pee. What could possibly happen to the world by him using the upstairs bathroom? If we took the sign off the door would it have been okay? It was discussed in whispers during lunch, so as not to offend the kid's mother. I have to wonder about these people. See, in my house, we have the upstairs bathroom and the downstairs bathroom. If you're upstairs, you use the upstairs bathroom and if you're downstairs, you use the downstairs bathroom. Apparently, these people segregate by gender in their houses. Weird. I'm still trying to figure out what horrors have befallen the females at the party because of that supposed reckless menace to society.

Eating Out

Today I took the kids to lunch. No place fancy, just Friendly's. I had the need for some serious ice cream sundae action. Anyway, as we were going in, I was carrying the baby and trying to hold the door open for my other two little ones. A waitress was coming in from her break and you'd think that seeing a CUSTOMER, much less anyone struggling like that, she'd hold the door. Can you believe she actually squeezed in before I could lose hold of the door? I was really hoping we wouldn't be at one of her tables. Thankfully we weren't. This same woman was at a back table with some other staff, being loud and obnoxious. She yelled and then called one of them a little shit, prompting me to get "that look" from my 7yo. Now again, this wasn't any place fancy, but even at a hot dog stand, there is something called common courtesy and proper public behavior. Then again, maybe her lack of social grace is why she has to work at Friendly's.

On the flip side, although our waitress wasn't the brightest bulb in the chandalier, she was perfectly nice and courteous. At the table behind us, the man didn't say hello or anything. In a gruff tone of voice, as if she had done something wrong, he said "Gimme a diet coke with lemon!" Was that necessary? Her job sucks bad enough. Why make it worse? I bet he never even made eye contact with her. I left her a little extra beyond my already good tip. I like to tip well, because I can. I feel lucky and why shouldn't I make someone's day just a tiny bit brighter? I'm glad my kids are well-behaved in restaurants. Waiting tables must be a hard job.

It's Finally Happened

I always knew this day would come. I fought it as long as I could, which probably wasn't smart, but I am only 36 after all. I realize, though, that I have to give in. And so it begins. I have started using moisturizer. When I start using eye cream and foundation, you might as well just shoot me.

If I Ever Write a Book...

It will NOT have a pink cover, and on the cover there will not be kicky red shoes, a lipstick print, a martini/cosmopolitan, stockings, or a heart-shaped locket.

Please, publishers. STOP IT!

IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT!

I have just mopped the floor.

Please, everyone, calm down! Go back to your homes and for god's sake, no looting!

I Hate Alarm Clocks

The alarm went off in the middle of a nice dream. I was a princess and I was running away to marry Wolverine because I had the bag of holy potatoes. See, if the princess announces her engagement, she has to open the bag of holy potatoes and if the angels are happy, you know she's marrying the true and rightful prince. But like in all the fairytales, the wicked queen refuses to serve the holy potatoes, which must be eaten at the family's Sunday dinner for the guy to become prince. No, she wants the Idaho ones. King Dad (played by Tim Allen) was like, "THEY'RE JUST FUCKIN' POTATOES!" So anyway, the potato angels were very happy with Wolvie, so I took the damn potatoes and left. I figured we'd just eat them ourselves. Mashed, with plenty of buttah. Queen Mom was shocked and distraught, but whatever. Then the alarm went off before I could ride away on the Harley. Now that's just wrong. Wolverine's lips were soft. Mmmmmm.

I'm Such a Dork

I don't really like Ben Affleck, but he played Daredevil and now he's engaged to Jennifer Garner, who played Elektra. I think that's so cool. Daredevil and Elektra! Of course, they didn't actually go through with the wedding in the comic books, and somehow, I don't see Ben following through on this either. But it's damn cute!

Words of Masculine Wisdom

My husband said:
"Whatever they make purses out of, they should use it to make trucks so you could just keep putting stuff in them...It's a stagehand's dream!"

Bloggerbot Angst

Why is Blogspot becoming evil? It won't let me write in colors. Now it makes me put new links in a different font, even though I used the EXACT same html codes. Why why WHY?????

I think I found the problem here m'am. The compressor is shot. I can order you a new one. It takes about a week...

Modern Technology

We got a new phone yesterday. It has audible caller ID so I don't have to try to get up to see when I'm taking care of the baby. When Brian calls home, it yells "It's the man of the house calling!" That's the only one we've set so far. I think for my dad, it will say "Blah blah blah blah" and for my brother, "WARNING! THERE ARE MONKEY BOYS ON THE PREMISES!" Don't know what I'll put for my mother or my best friend. It has two really loud ringers that go off at the same time. I have no idea why, but it sounds like I live in a firehouse. We really need to change that before I beat it to smithereens and throw it out the window.

Interesting Day

I started out by dreaming about cake. It was my birthday soon and I was deciding what kind of cake to make. I thought of Donna's hazelnut jobbie and really wanted that. I realized that for MY birthday, I didn't have to make a cake that was safe for my daughter. I could use eggs and butter and she just didn't have to eat it. So my mission became to find a good recipe for hazelnut frosting. Then, suddenly, I was in a competition. My assistant passed me a layer with a sheet of fondant draped over it. I tried to stretch it and smooth it down but it was slipping all over the place. He went to fix it and completely mangled the cake, which made my head pop off, but then when I saw why, I let him have it. He hadn't put on any frosting first, so it didn't stick. I smacked him with my spatula a few times and screamed that if he ever came near any of my cakes again, I'd break off all his fingers and shove them up his ass. Then I noticed a very shocked mother and son who were watching the competition. Oopsie. Well, you know these temperamental chefs. So I woke up thinking about cake, and what I might make for my birthday.

After lunch, I went and got my belly button pierced. I went to a really nice place in New Haven. They had a big waiting area with nice leather couches and a big TV (which was playing some soap opera). The piercer was so nice and he had three kids too. Turns out he was a big X-Men fan and when I mentioned the tattoo I'd like to get, he and the tattoo guys went mental. They said they had never done one but would love to because it was so cool. The piercer guy went and got a big glossy book of Marvel character drawings to show me. He was like a little kid. The tattoo guys were asking if I was going to get it. I said I had to find the right picture first, which I've been trying to do forever now. They were pretty excited. I go back in two weeks for it to be checked.

Anyway, nursing Angus with the belly button thing is quite a trick. So far, I've managed to convince him each time that the shiny new thing isn't really that interesting, but he also likes to wrestle, so ow. And yeah, ow. Ow. But it will be better soon. Some of my friends had an interesting reaction. They all said they wished they had a nice belly worthy of decoration. Good lord! Mine is trashed from the three kids. Completely wrecked! So what? I'm not going around showing it in public. I like to wear nice undies too, but I don't wonder first if the general population would like my big fat ass so maybe I should just wear white granny pants! I've never met anyone who deliberately chooses ugly clothes because they don't think they're pretty enough or thin enough to be worthy of wearing something attractive. Jeez Louise! Forget what your belly looks like. YOU are worthy of decoration!

The Planets Have Aligned

I finally got my violin bow rehaired. I finally got my belly button pierced (yes, of course it hurt but not as much as getting a needle in your spine), and after eight years, I finally painted the living room. (Now I have to figure out what to do with the couch, and in another eight years I can put up curtains) My writer's block is gone and I'm sewing again. Ah, blessed relief. Now if only Blogspot would let me write in blue.

Allergy Season Brings Tragedy

I was still sort of sleeping this morning when my daughter came in screaming "Mommy! What's happening to my nose???!!!" I looked at her and her nose didn't seem to be doing anything but sitting on her face like usual. I asked her what was wrong with her nose. She claimed (all panicky) that it was shrinking. I'm totally serious. I just didn't know what to say. I asked what she was talking about. She then told me (and demonstrated) that her finger no longer fits! Good lord, where did I go wrong?

Family Secrets

3yo: Mom, why is Grandpa crazy?

Me: Because when he was five, he fell down the basement stairs in Wilmington, Delaware and hit his head and was never the same since. (my grandmother's actual explanation)

3yo: Oh.

7yo: He's not crazy crazy, he's just a nut.

The Greatest TV Show Ever!

http://www.spiketv.com/shows/series/index.jhtml?seriesID=13720&refID=invasioniowa

Hey kids, do yourself a favor and watch this if it runs again. Oh my. I sat horrified, yet laughing my ass off. Really, I could not believe the crap they pulled on these people. William Shatner is either a brilliant actor or a sick bastard. Probably both. I couldn't stop watching this. It was like a horrible accident, but hilarious! I have to get myself a shat. I can't stop thinking of him yelling at his assistant "I WILL SMITE YOU!" It was his motivational tape. Oh man. Go to the website and watch the fake movie they made.

"I've never heard such hogworsh!"

"Rima's butt is so magnificent!"

Of course that's what he was saying. That's why Kristin posted it and I stole it from her. My daughter doesn't believe that's what he was saying. I asked her what else he could possibly be saying and she said "Hello Mr. Hand. Hello Miss Hand".

Hmmm. Hugh and Craig seemed to have achieved the previously impossible. I think they need better supervision when I'm out. Well, at least he's found employment.

Trouble in Paradise

Craig's training is not going well. Last night I was watching his show, and he told Carmen Electra that he can't imagine ever being in a situation where he'd need to know how to give a lap dance. I can't believe he said that. Of course, I immediately put Hugh in charge of his training. That should set things right. I still can't believe he said that.

It's a Miracle!

Today is my son's first birthday. I guess you're figuring the title of my post refers to the miracle of life, of watching a child grow, etc. Yeah, okay, that too, but the real miracle is that in six minutes, I will have officially survived one year of being a mother of three. Okay, I'm much the worse for wear, but not as much as I thought I'd be. The children survived too.

My husband doesn't count. He gets to be all safe at work most of the time. My kids wait until he leaves for work before they all puke simultaneously. Any bones that snap or crunch also do it after he's settled comfortably on the train, reading his newspaper or napping. If I could do that, I probably wouldn't be so cranky. I wouldn't even have to go anywhere. Just three hours on the train sounds good to me. He gets that everyday. THREE HOURS EVERYDAY of nothing and nobody. It's unreal.

It's Shike N' Bike! An Ah Heyelped!

As I was cooking dinner last night, I thought of all those stupid commercials for things like Hamburger Helper or Shake N' Bake. The ones where they're sitting around the table laughing and nodding, but not speaking, presumably because their mouths are full of food. They just look at each other and nod and laugh. I'm picturing

Mom: Fun, isn't it?
Kids: Yeah! Chicken is waaaay more fun than the stuff we ate yesterday!
Dad: Thanks hon, this chicken is actually hilarious!

But it's all being implied with their expressions, and of course, being such a close family now that they have this product, they understand each other completely.

I might be a bad person, but I want to hit them all. Possibly knock their heads together because they're acting so stupid. Maybe mom just can't take it anymore and made it mushroom flavored.

Craptastic!

A few nights ago, I watched "A Knight's Tale". The opening scene was a tournament and they had Queen's "We Will Rock You" for the music. Everyone was stomping and pounding and clapping and singing it. Now, that was just stupid, but it was so cool too. At least until I realized that it was just a bunch of rennies. But how cool would it have been if it were the real thing? I know, I'm a twit. Anyway, it makes me want to watch the Freddie Mercury tribute concert. I believe one of Lizzy's boyfriends is in that one. Oh, and Liza singing "We Are the Champions". That's Craptastic!ism at it's best. Once you learn to stomach it, that is.

??????

I was out and about today and took a little snack break at Target. I was sitting there, eating some Combos when I saw on the bag that it is "Nascar's Cheese Filled Snack!" I wonder what that means. Do they have a chocolate covered snack? A beef flavored snack? What other kinds of snacks to they "have" and what does it mean by that? Nascar isn't a person so how does a snack belong to it? I do know that that particular bag was mine because I paid for it. I don't care if their name is on it, I didn't sign anything saying they could take it back. I just paid regular price and I ate it.

In a Bungalow While Monkeys Play Above-a

There's this animal show on PBS called Zoboomafoo. It's really cool. Where else can you learn that a binturon smells like popcorn? I've never even seen a binturon, much less smelled one. The only drawback is the dumb lemur, who I'd like to skin and make a hat from. What I especially like about the show are the hosts, the Kratt brothers. They are a couple of real cuties, and at first, you don't really notice that, but they start to grow on you, they really do. After about a week, you think "Damn, that Martin is hot!" No, it's not just me. I had another mom point it out to me, and before I knew it, a whole bunch of them agreed. It's just nobody wanted to say anything. I think the Kratts are aware of this, because they make sure to get wet and/or muddy during each episode. Of course, they're perfectly clean and dry in the next scene. If you TIVO it, you can watch it later with your friends as a drinking or betting game.

A friend of mine is an arts/entertainment columnist for a newspaper. She did a phone interview with one of them, but first, she interviewed some kids to find out what they liked best about the show. My daughter was one of them. I think she was four at the time. She summed it up with this:
Knock knock
Who's there?
Panther
Panther who?
Panther no panth, I'm going thwimming!

I'm waiting patiently to see them swimming with no panth, but I think they'd have to make a whole other show for that. I think I'll suggest it to PBS.

Fun for the Feeble Minded

My baby likes to take his naps in my lap, which is when I usually spend time at the computer (like now). It's an easy way to entertain myself for an hour, while I hope my daughters don't cause disaster. Anyway, so I've found these online word search puzzles. They just give you the theme, no word list, so you have to actually know what you're looking for. I was just doing one about mammals and I actually sat here trying to decide if a tibbar is a mammal. So I circled it to find out, and when it took it, I was kinda surprised, until I realized I had circled "rabbit". Look, if you had my kids you'd be an idiot too. I did get "capybara" all by myself though. Which leads me to my next post...

One of Life's Mysteries Solved

I used to wonder why people took drugs. Now I know. Today I have been bitten, smacked in the face with a handful of toilet water, lost a handful of hair, wrestled a very surprisingly strong baby to keep him from flinging poop and throwing himself onto his head off the couch while he screamed like he was being murdered, which only resulted in both of us being covered with diaper ointment. He is on his third outfit. My daughter is on her second. I have a feeling we'll be changing her clothes again today as well. They kept me up last night, fighting over the blankets. I am so tired and headachy. The baby is finally asleep on my lap, which leaves the girls to scream at each other, hopefully without anyone getting hurt. Now I only wonder why people who don't have children take drugs.

Happy Spring!

Today is the equinox. The kids and I will be coloring eggs. I just put some on to boil and after a minute or so, I heard a peeping sound coming from the pot! I'm serious! So of course, I told myself that a chick couldn't survive the delivery, supermarket, fridge, etc. and it's just the bubbles, but still, I took out every egg and listened to it and couldn't find which one was peeping. I don't remember that happening before and I'm very paranoid now. Thankfully, we don't eat the eggs. We chuck them in the pond while we sing and make wishes. I can't believe an egg was peeping. It's going to be a while before I get over this. Happy spring anyway!

Surprises

Okay, so as my husband so kindly pointed out, Tino is back in pinstripes. I didn't realize this, as he hasn't called, which I can't blame him for. At least he hasn't called me. Anything else you want to tell me about honey?