A Meaty Christmas to All

Last night, we drove around looking at decorative light displays. Our 3y0 son asked why we didn't have lights on our house, and my husband told him that he had wanted to put some up but he was busy and didn't get the chance. He said he'd try to do it next year. My son asked if he would use crispy bacon. "Crispy bacon?" I asked. "To decorate the house?" He answered yes in a way that suggested that I don't know anything about decorating a house. Silly me.

Holding Out Hope for the Day

Happy solstice everyone. I know I'm a day late, but that's the only way I can get it to miraculously coincide with the husband's schedule. Hush, don't tell the kids. Speaking of kids, they aren't making the day easy. Not that they ever do, but I'd like it to be festive. I'm sleep-deprived, and for some reason have sore muscles here and there, as well as an impending headache, but I have a lot to do. Most of it is fun stuff, like wrapping presents and making festive food for Christmas brunch with the maternal unit, but indeed it takes work, and that requires energy.

So here I am, recharging by relaxing a little at the computer. I know, I'll read something funny. So I go over to the blog that the Late Show with David Letterman writers have up and what do I see? Not only do I see a lame joke, but it's a lame joke that I made about a year ago. At least it wasn't for pay. If I saw it on the show, I'd have to cry.

I'm holding out hope that I'll feel better at dinner time. First, I don't have to cook it. Second, it's a rare treat that my husband is bringing home. It's NY pizza from my favorite pizzeria, near where we used to live when we first got married. Sicilian pizza, even! And a small salad pizza too! Can't get that stuff here in CT, though I like living here much better than living in NY. I just hope that by then, I haven't lost my mind. It's 2:30 and I have one kid still in her pajamas. Five hours and counting.

They Just Know How to Make a Mom Feel Bad

Today my 6yo said "Maybe Odin Claus will give me some cough medicine."

Golden Globes Dilemma?

Given the situation with the writers' strike, there are Golden Globe nominees who are torn between promoting their work, and honoring the picket line. Now, aren't these supposed to be the creative people of the world? How are they missing the obvious solution?

Here's what I would do, especially if I were already fairly well-known. I'd show up in my evening finery, with my gorgeous gentleman, step out of the car and smile for the cameras, then turn and pull out my picket signs from the back seat, smile for the cameras again, and go join the line. There you have it. Support for the WGA and a shitload of publicity. Plus, you still get to wear a fabulous dress and go out for dinner later. So what is the problem?

It's Over! WOOHOO!

Broadway is up and running again! The man's got a paycheck once more! What a relief. Now if only these guys could get it together:

Harem Boys Holiday Pageant

Wolvie wasn't too happy about it, but if it pleases me, he'll do it. So here you go, my top four harem boys entertaining their mistress.
http://www.elfyourself.com/?id=9630927441

TOP TEN SIGNS THAT RIMA IS MISSING LATE NIGHT TELEVISION

10.Laughs in her sleep while eating imaginary Doritos

9. Turns to her husband in the morning and says “Paul, do we have any tooth brushing music?”

8. Has been having hallucinations about giant rats and pigs, and can only be talked down in a Scottish accent

7. Has replaced children’s reward stickers with reward meat platters

6. Has developed lactose intolerance and restless leg syndrome

5. Wore a suit of tortilla chips for Thanksgiving

4. Has been desperately searching the internet for a “host desk” knitting pattern

3. Makes sure that her kids start each day with a hearty, vitamin-fortified monologue

2. Invites other moms over for “a cup of tea and a chat”

1. Responds to mealtime pickiness with “Just eat it! It’s carbolicious!”

"Best of Craigslist" Goodie

This really had me laughing so hard I had tears coming down. It gives me hope for the future.
http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/465979897.html

ZOMBIES!!!!!!

The Broadway People Get it

Latest word on the strike is that the Weisslers plan to replace their stagehands with the cast of "Growing Pains". (come on, you know it's funny)

For the WGA

My Feelings Exactly!

I don't know why there are some subjects which make people feel entitled to be incredibly rude and intrusive, but homeschooling is one of them. I do my best to be polite. The following was posted on a couple of lists, but I don't know the original source. I wish I knew who to thank for it.

1. Please stop asking us if it's legal. If it is - and it is - it's insulting to imply that we're criminals. And if we were criminals, would we admit it?

2. Learn what the words "socialize" and "socialization" mean, and use the one you really mean instead of mixing them up the way you do now. Socializing means hanging out with other people for fun. Socialization means having acquired the skills necessary to do so successfully and pleasantly. If you're talking to me and my kids, that means that we do in fact go outside now and then to visit the other human beings on the planet, and you can safely assume that we've got a decent grasp of both concepts.

3. Quit interrupting my kid at her dance lesson, scout meeting, choir practice, baseball game, art class, field trip, park day, music class, 4H club, or soccer lesson to ask her if as a homeschooler she ever gets to socialize.

4. Don't assume that every homeschooler you meet is homeschooling for the same reasons and in the same way as that one homeschooler you know.

5. If that homeschooler you know is actually someone you saw on TV, either on the news or on a "reality" show, the above goes double.

6. Please stop telling us horror stories about the homeschoolers you know, know of, or think you might know who ruined their lives by homeschooling. You're probably the same little bluebird of happiness whose hobby is running up to pregnant women and inducing premature labor by telling them every ghastly birth story you've ever heard. We all hate you, so please go away.

7. We don't look horrified and start quizzing your kids when we hear they're in public school. Please stop drilling our children like potential oil fields to see if we're doing what you consider an adequate job of homeschooling.

8. Stop assuming all homeschoolers are religious.

9. Stop assuming that if we're religious, we must be homeschooling for religious reasons.

10. We didn't go through all the reading, learning, thinking, weighing of options, experimenting, and worrying that goes into homeschooling just to annoy you. Really. This was a deeply personal decision, tailored to the specifics of our family. Stop taking the bare fact of our being homeschoolers as either an affront or a judgment about your own educational decisions.

11. Please stop questioning my competency and demanding to see my credentials. You have no authority to do so. I didn't have to complete a course in catering to successfully cook dinner for my family; I don't need a degree in teaching to educate my children. If spending at least twelve years in the kind of chew-it-up-and-spit-it-out educational facility we call public school left me with so little information in my memory banks that I can't teach the basics of an elementary education to my nearest and dearest, maybe there's a reason I'm so reluctant to send my child to school.

12. If my kid's only six and you ask me with a straight face how I can possibly teach him what he'd learn in school, please understand that you're calling me an idiot. Don't act shocked if I decide to respond in kind.

13. Stop assuming that because the word "home" is right there in "homeschool," we never leave the house. We're the ones who go to the amusement parks, museums, and zoos in the middle of the week and in the off-season and laugh at you because you have to go on weekends and holidays when it's crowded and icky.

14. Stop assuming that because the word "school" is right there in homeschool, we must sit around at a desk for six or eight hours every day, just like your kid does. Even if we're into the "school" side of education - and many of us prefer a more organic approach - we can burn through a lot of material a lot more efficiently, because we don't have to gear our lessons to the lowest common denominator.

15. Stop asking, "But what about the Prom?" Even if the idea that my kid might not be able to indulge in a night of over-hyped, over-priced revelry was enough to break my heart, plenty of kids who do go to school don't get to go to the prom. For all you know, I'm one of them. I might still be bitter about it. So go be shallow somewhere else.

16. Don't ask my kid if she wouldn't rather go to school unless you don't mind if I ask your kid if he wouldn't rather stay home and get some sleep now and then.

17. Stop saying, "Oh, I could never homeschool!" Even if you think it's some kind of compliment, it sounds more like you're horrified. One of these days, I won't bother disagreeing with you any more.

18. If you can remember anything from chemistry or calculus class, you're allowed to ask how we'll teach these subjects to our kids. If you can't, thank you for the reassurance that we couldn't possibly do a worse job than your teachers did, and might even do a better one.

19. Stop asking about how hard it must be to be my child's teacher as well as her parent. I don't see much difference between bossing my kid around academically and bossing him around the way I do about everything else.

20. Stop saying that my kid is shy, outgoing, aggressive, anxious, quiet, boisterous, argumentative, pouty, fidgety, chatty, whiny, or loud because he's homeschooled. It's not fair that all the kids who go to school can be as annoying as they want to without being branded as representative of anything but childhood.

21. Quit assuming that my kid must be some kind of prodigy because she's homeschooled.

22. Quit assuming that I must be some kind of prodigy because I homeschool my kids.

23. Quit assuming that I must be some kind of saint because I homeschool my kids.

24. Stop talking about all the great childhood memories my kids won't get because they don't go to school, unless you want me to start asking about all the not-so-great childhood memories you have because you went to school.

25. Here's a thought: If you can't say something nice about homeschooling, shut up!

And for IATSE- A Little Badum Bum

Broadway's stagehands are on strike. If it lasts through December, it could ruin Christmas for thousands of NY Jews.

Actor's Equity is supporting the srike. Donna Murphy was so moved that she sent her understudy to picket.

Local 1 is generously using its emergency fund to keep Manhattan's doughnut shops from going under.

If the producers are allowed to save money on labor, they will be able to lower ticket prices by- HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! I'm such a kidder! Lower ticket prices SNORT! Ah me....

I Weep for Television

With the Writers' Guild of America on strike, I'm going to miss my favorite shows. Although most are stockpiled for a couple of months, many are not. It depends on who's running the show. I hear that Aaron Sorkin is deadline-challenged, for instance. My favorites, however, are written daily, right up to the very last minute. Well, on the bright side, I can stop TIVOing Craig and start TIVOing Conan reruns in order to study them.

I thought about reruns and crappy television, and had a couple of silly "what if" thoughts. Such as, what if they took all the "Seinfeld" episodes and reshot them "Office" style, with Kramer, Newman, Puddy, and Mr. & Mrs. Costanza doing talking heads? I'd watch every frickin' episode! What if CBS picked up "Viva Laughlin" again, for a full 13 episodes, done MST3K style? That would be some of the most awesome TV ever made. (note for any weasels: these blog posts are dated, so snag)

I Love Homeschooling

Last night my husband tucked the kids into bed and told my daughter not to stay up too late reading. She asked why not, and he couldn't think of an answer! :D

MIA!

I know, but I'm back. We spent a week in Los Angeles. The above picture shows the world-famous chipmunk, Dale. He was semi-amusing me at breakfast last Friday morning. There I am, hiding in the lower corner. The only way I could possibly find anything remotely amusing at breakfast is a three-hour time difference. To me, it was lunch.

We had a week of sunshine every day. We came back to two days of rain, which didn't help my jet-lag. Three hours might not seem like a lot, but when you're definitely not a morning person, trust me- it is. It was clear and crisp today, and the leaves are falling, and the trees are lovely. I froze my can off last night, and right now I have pumpkin cranberry bread in the oven. It smells great. Yep, we're back in Connecticut alright, and autumn has arrived. Ah.

Crazed

I'm trying to get ready for a vacation. I went crazy looking for our bathing suits so I could wash and pack them. I looked on the back porch, in the laundry, in the car, couldn't find them. I don't know what finally made me look in the drawers, but there they all were, clean and put away.

I fell asleep on the couch, having been up for a while with a sick kid during the night. The problem with afternoon naps is that they give me weird dreams. Probably because I know there's stuff I should be doing, so I never know if I'm really sleeping or not, as my dreams have me up and about. I dreamed that I woke up from my nap and ordered pizza. Then when I really woke up, I wasn't sure if I did it or not and had to ask my daughter. Ugh. I'm way too tired. I need a PA and a maid.

Ravelry!

I had forgotten all about Ravelry.com until I got my invitation yesterday and now I can't stop looking at it. I can keep track of all the needles, yarn, and patterns that I own. I can post details and pictures of all my projects, and keep track of projects I want to do in the future, and for whom. I can look up a pattern that I want to do, and see other people's results and comments. Same for yarn. Dang. Too much. Waaaaaaaaay too many pretty pictures. I've spent too many hours there these past two days. I should have used that time to actually knit instead of read about and look at knitting. Duh.

But it's so pretty!

What Goes on During Commercial Breaks

"Quick Rima! Throw me some cheesecake!"

I guarantee, these guys get the chicks.

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/20780105/

Oh Poo.

This year's Scottish festival is going to be while we're away so we'll miss it. It just so happens that it's hubby's clan that's being honored. I was going to get Cheeky Wee Angus MacBrian a cute little kilt, with flashings and all. Ah well.

Last time we were there, we met a very nice, very crazy old Scotsman who complained that we spelled our name like pawkie sassenachs and that we need to drop the "e". He kept giving my kids cookies though because he melted every time my daughter said "thank you" and gave one to the baby. He was just googoo for her. He reminded me of my grandpa. She would have weaseled him out of all his cookies too.

I've met a few Scottish people in my everyday life, and as far as I know, only one wasn't a raving crazyperson. She might have been though, and I just didn't know about it. The others though, they just go nuts when something sets them off. Pretty much like the Celts in my family. Yeah, the same really, just different unitelligible accents. So that's probably another reason that guy reminded me of my grandpa. I could totally see my grandfather ranting about something like that. He was a head-butter too. Hilarious.

Too Far Away

Oh blow ye winds over the ocean
Oh blow ye winds over the sea
Oh blow ye winds over the ocean
And bring back my bonnie to me

Harem Boy Alert!

Head harem boy saw ex-harem boy in the city today. It must have been awkward. It seems that Bobby is finding comfort though. He had two women and a box of meat with him. He hasn't changed.

Be Prepared!

Yesterday I was looking in the pantry and I saw that we have four boxes of pancake mix. Of course, I immediately alerted my husband that we were low on pancake mix and that he should pick up four more boxes. If it were to hail or something, I feel totally unprepared.

While I'm here, I should let you know that idiots suck. Dropping stitches sucks. Autumn weather plus peanut butter oreos is damn fine. Carry on.

Joey Fatone

I know absolutely nothing about him, I just think it's fun to say "Joey Fatone". (now fangirls are going to get Google hits and leave angry comments. Sorry for the false alarm kids!)

It's Probably Because They Rhyme

Here's something I bet you didn't know. People's noses match their toes. I'm not kidding. A person with a little, pointy nose has little, pointy toes and a person with a big, fat nose has big, fat toes, etc. I'm not making this up. Check it out, you'll see. It will drive you mad. Well, it will drive Chris mad. Sorry Chris!

I Wish...

Bugs wouldn't find me so tasty.

My internal clock weren't backwards.

People had a clue.

That when my husband sneezes while driving my car, he'd wipe the front windshield.

The fire department wouldn't put on the sirens just because my CO detector was going off.

I were skilled at "magic darts" haha!

Autumn would get here already because summer sucks.

Pie weren't fattening.

There were 36 hour days so I could get more sleep and still get something done before the next day came along.

I could have a dog.

My sweater would magically frog itself back to row 8 of the decrease section so I could continue on my merry way.

Calling it a Night

Look at me going to bed at 10:30! I'm headachey and exhausted. But, I'm still going to read to all the kids, who are far more peppy than I am right now. That might give you a clue as to why I'm so tired all the time. But since it's been a while, I should post something worthy, so let's all give a warm welcome to my new Jr. harem boys, Fred and George. They're the tall ones, obviously. And yes, they're perfectly legal, but they're still only in training. These guys rock. If I were at Hogwarts, I would have failed out because I'd be having too much fun with them. Of course, they did perfectly well until they dropped out to pursue greater things. My very favorite moment in the entire series was when they left school with "Give her hell for us Peeves!" That. Was. Awesome. Night all.

Can You Plagarize Yourself?

Just before I woke up this morning, I had a really funny dream with a great joke in it. I woke up laughing and thought "that was great, I wish I had thought of that one!" Then it occured to me that technically, I did. I can use it, but I feel guilty because my brain did it without me. I am so messed up.

Anyone Have $660 Million to Play With?

The Los Angeles Archdioces is settling their sexual abuse lawsuits for $660 million. Frankly, it bothers me that they HAVE that much money in the first place. That they should have that much to spend on buying their way out of crime is pretty disturbing. The pope might be surprised to know that Jesus didn't wear large jewels, nor were his walls covered in gold. No really, I'm serious, they weren't! I fully admit to not paying much attention in CCD, but I'm pretty sure he also didn't tell his apostles "go forth and collect priceless works of art". I mean, he might have, but probably not.

Dinner is served. Mmmm...

Another One of Those Dinners

I just made the components for a stawberry-blueberry shortcake. I'm just waiting for the biscuit to cool so it doesn't melt the whipped cream. I don't know what I'm going to make for my dairy and egg allergic kid, who is also fruitaphobic, but I'll figure out something.

Yanno, whipping cream by hand is really hard, but a great thing to do when you're pissed off. You know that fine line that you get to between whipped cream and butter? I almost crossed it. I'm going to wake up in the morning with the biceps of a Brakeheart.

My "Huh?" Moment of the Day

I'm making Stitch Diva's Sahara Sweater in the short-sleeved version, out of bamboo yarn, which just looks like perfectly normal yarn. Today my mother came over and saw it in my basket and asked if it was the bamboo sweater I was working on. I said yes and she looked at it and said "It doesn't look like bamboo. It looks more like grass." I utterly and completely do not understand what that meant, given that she was just looking at yarn with no botanical characteristics at all. If it goes well and comes out nice, I plan on making the long-sleeved version. I'll be making that one out of soy. I wonder what comment that one will evoke. My curiosity eagerly awaits that one.

It seems that Blogger no longer likes post titles. How sad.

My Brush with Greatness

Stephen Schwartz and I have the same piano tuner. I know, you don't even know what to say.

Conversation in the Ladies' Room

9Y0: I hate those evaporation thingies.

ME: You mean dryers?

9YO: Yeah, those.

I Feel so Alone

I'm trying to work through a rewrite of a tv series proposal. My screenwriting teacher says that I'm not doing enough to communicate what demographic it's for, and that producers will absolutely want to know that without question. Okay. I know why he has trouble with it. I know exactly why. I'm just not sure what to do about it. He thinks it would make an awesome show but without the demo, I couldn't get it produced.

The real problem is that it's for my demographic. Unfortunately, "39 going on 10" is not an official demo, and apparently there aren't enough of us to warrant the money, so I have to maybe weasel it as a collegiate hit. Urg. Well, I guess that tomorrow will be a big scribble in the margins day.

Yarn Shopping

I'm about to start knitting a cute little top. It has beaded trim around the edges. I just came from the yarn store. The one little skein of yarn that I'm using to make the trim costs more than I would want to pay for a cute little top. Ah well. I'm paying for the joy of making the cute little top, in the color I like, in my measurements. So there. Pffft!

Dude, either hire me or cut it out.

Okay, this is getting to be too much now. In Craig Ferguson's monologue last night, he did a comedic sexy voice saying "Have another piece of cake. It's delicious. Have some more carrot cake with the forbidden icing." Carrot cake for goodness sakes! I've written entire dialogues about carrot cake! Now of course, I do it waaaaaaaaay better, but still! If he's going to use my stuff, he needs to learn to do it right. The night before, he was talking about naughty librarians! I wonder if someone on his staff reads JT. Haha, right. No, it's my brainwaves. They infiltrate. I'll have to wear one of those aluminum foil hats to keep them where they belong. I bet that would go over well at a pitch meeting. At least I'd look like many of the other people in Los Angeles. Perfectly normal.

I Looked in the Box

Yup, there's gobos in there alright, and they aren't in Las Vegas. I'm just not going to think about it. They will leave my car the same way they got in, and that's that. (Even though my kids want to play with them.)

Who am I Kidding?

Every day I think that it would be nice if I were asleep by midnight. Yeah, right. That only happens if I can't keep my eyes open. Otherwise, I'm busy. Today I thought "yep, midnight tonight". Nope. I have stuff to write, laundry to do, and while both of those are going on, I'm gonna catch me some Robot Chicken on the TIVO. It's reSEARCH.

Weird Day

Yesterday I noticed a mysterious box in the back of my car. It is labeled "Hairspray Las Vegas Gobos". That's probably not good.

On the other hand, I caught a ball with my cleavage. My 3yo found it quite entertaining.

My Child is Crazy, but in a Good Way

My five-year-old is writing a book. It's about a guy who gets hit by lightning. It's a direct hit. All that's left is a scorch mark on the ground. His loved ones naturally assume that he was vaporized, but in reality, the lightning teleported him. So he's in the McDonald's in the next town, confused, and he's trying to get someone to pick him up, but they don't understand because they think he's dead. They think that "McDonald's in Milford" is the name of the place where dead people go. They figure it's a ghostly phone call from beyond the grave and just don't know what to make of it.

The illustrations are so adorable and hilarious.

There is but one punishment for setting alight the mando-shaped beacon...

Yes, that is my mandolin, shining atop Castle Anthrax. This is what I get for using Zoot as a screen name. Musicians are quite silly.

Happy Billy-Bob Everyone!

Once I dreamed that Thursday was changed to Billy-Bob. The rest of the days of the week were called the same thing that they are now, it's just Thursday that was changed. So I told some of my friends about that dream and they started using it. We'd have emails that said things like "Are you free for dinner on Tuesday? If not, I can do Billy-Bob too." It was weird. They got over it eventually. Every once in a while it creeps up on me though, so happy Billy-Bob.

They're Conspiring

This was a special goof that I did a while ago for Shannon, but I figured I might as well stick it here:

DENNIS: Okay, so you take down the big guy and I'll take the other one.

CRAIG: Why do I have to get the big guy?

DENNIS: You want the short chick, right?

CRAIG: Yeah.

DENNIS: Well guess which one she's married to.

CRAIG: Fuck!

DENNIS: Heh. Sucker.

CRAIG: You know, that other guy looks pretty big too. Especially compared to your skinny ass.

DENNIS: Yeah? You think you can take my skinny ass?

CRAIG: Yeah, I do. HEY! They're getting away! SHIT!

DENNIS: GODDAMMIT! HEY! HOT TAP DANCING CHICK! COME BACK!

CRAIG: Well, now what're we gonna do?

DENNIS: Okay, don't panic. Here's plan B. I come back on the show and you have Naked Week.

CRAIG: Ooh yeah, that'll get their attention. (rubs hands with evil glee)

I Give Up

Quite a while ago, as in six months to a year, (can't remember) I bought a carbon fiber bow. I have not yet gotten to try it out. It's reconditioned, so I don't know if it's got new hair or it was just cleaned, but in any case, it is completely clean, and I have spent an hour and a half trying to put rosin on it, and I still can't get any sound out of it. I only wanted to practice for a half hour or so. I have to get up relatively early tomorrow to get my kids where they need to be on time, otherwise I would stay up and conquer the damn thing! I remember going through this with my old bow. Grrrrr. Frustrating. On the plus side, Grandpa's mando sounds great.

Today's Meaningless Chatter

There are few activities (barring medical situations) that I find more unpleasant than changing strings. Mandolins have twice as many strings as fiddles. Yippee. So far, nothing has snapped and given me a major gash, but I do have two small cuts and some dents in my fingers. I think a little WD-40 might help. These are old pegs. At least they don't wind to the inside of the instrument. I have to say, whoever designed violins like that was just plain deranged. Well, four strings on, four to go. Then commence tuning. Ugh.

And my favorite conversation of the day-

3yo: Mom, are you going to die?
Me: Not at the moment.
3yo: When are you going to die?
Me: I don't know. Why?
3yo: Well, you're fat. You could die.
Me: I'm not fat.
3yo: You look fat.
Me: Gee thanks.
9yo: She's not fat, she just needs a better bra.
5yo: Yeah. She has big boobies, that's all. They make her look fat.

I just can't win today.

LOL!

Check this out. Not for the article, but for the picture that goes with it. I wonder if the person who put it up had any idea what he or she was looking at. I'm sure the photographer did. I'm starting to think I'd like L.A. It has its own charm.


http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/18969221/

My Latest Joy

Why I Have a Harem

Because I know that at any given time, at least one of them will make me smile. I've been grumping around for the past day or two because of my aunt, who really needs to be smacked, but it wouldn't do any good because she's living in another dimension. Let's just say that it involves my grandfather's mandolin, a large sum of money, and me trying to function at an ungodly hour of the morning. Not a good thing, except that I'm FINALLY getting my grandfather's mandolin. So what did I find today? Check it people... I am NEVAH giving up the harem.

Cue the Bad 70's Music

I recently decided to check out another branch of our city's public library. I was a bit surprised when I walked in. The other libraries we go to are staffed with the usual ladies in sensible shoes, but this one was staffed by attractive young men. I wasn't sure if there was a hidden camera somewhere, maybe. One hottie in jeans leaned his nice biceps on the counter and asked "Hi, can I help you with something?" I wish I had been there with Bert or Jenda. They could have given him a much better answer than "Yes, would you please direct me to the children's section?" Not that I wasn't thinking it.

It's in the Genes

We were at the beach today, and my three-year-old son gave me a reminder that yep, he's my kid. He had found a rock that he liked and wanted to show me. Most kids his age would say "Ooh look! Pretty rock!", but not him. He said "Look mama! I found a piece of granite! It has a lot of mica! You can see it sparkling!" (he was correct, by the way) This was followed by him panicking because he couldn't find his sunglasses. He was very relieved when I informed him that he was wearing them.
He gets the smarts from both sides. The rest, well...I've given up being embarrassed. Life's too short and too busy. Hmm...too short, too busy, REMIND YOU OF ANYONE???? Hee hee! Sorry, I couldn't resist.

Amused Horror

Today I saw a guy who looked just like Dirk Weems! There is nothing more to say. I'm still astounded. And somewhat blind. Oh my poor children.

Medical Entertainment

No, I don't mean CBS's new show Ghost Chimp M.D., I mean we were at the dermatologist yesterday and my daughter and I both were in hysterics over an ad for Botox. I was laughing because of the before and after pictures. The before one has a woman scrunching up her face and looking really angry. The after one has her looking normal and smiling a bit, though I'm guessing Botox doesn't let you smile much. Maybe she should just not scrunch up her face! My daughter was laughing because she thinks "Botox" sounds too close to "buttocks" and can't believe someone named their company that. Now I want a company named Buttocks.

She's a Natural

There are few things cuter than my 5yo daughter learning Samurai sword technique. It really beats the tutu thing, no contest!

I Frickin' Love the Internet!

Because where else would I have found this? And this?

It returns your lips to near-virgin condition!

The Shoes of Mirth!

Happy Mothers' Day. zzzzzzz...

There are days when I just never wake up. I think this is going to be one of them. It's 3:30 and I've done basically nothing. I haven't even dressed the little man yet. I hope I wake up enough to drive. I'm thinking that my children want to take me out to dinner tonight. Yeah. Yeah, they do. It would certainly be better than a plate-o-tatertots.

The Dangerous Power of Television

The Late Late Show insulted shrimp by excluding them from crab week. In retaliation, they attacked Craig Ferguson. First Craig, now the world, apparently. I'm so glad my medically complicated kid didn't eat the shrimp last night. I think they need to hire a new writer (Hint Hint) to help fix this crisis. Meanwhile, avoid the killer shrimp!

My life, my job, my curse, is to find shoes

I went shopping yesterday and today. Shopping can either be a triumph or a disaster. It was a little of both, but mostly good. All the kids have their summer shoes, FINALLY, after going to a million stores. I didn't do so well. Nothing yesterday, but I did find my very favorite nail polish ever, which I will probably use tonight. It's kind of the color of a blood clot. I find that a good pedicure really helps a writer. At least this writer.

Today I went to a store that had more than one pair of shoes that I actually wanted. I was so excited. So I asked for both in a 7 1/2. One was a size too big, one a size too small. Nice. Both 7 /12. Both the last pair. So I got the ones that were too big because I couldn't stop myself. They're black, slip-on sneakers with white, rubber toes and they have purple, white, and grey skulls all over them. That's right purple. Bonus- the skulls' eye sockets are heart-shaped. It's like they were designed for me. Except in the wrong frickin' size. My hips and back will punish me for this. Maybe that will force me back into my yoga. I also found the lip gloss of my dreams there for $1.29, so it's all good.

Now I need to reformulate my plan. I must obtain more shoes, but where? Hmmm...

Just Some Stuff

So the man is off and running again, and right on cue the little one has a runny nose and fever. I don't even question it anymore.

Is there anyone who isn't aware that tainted gluten has been used in regular human food? I mean, just because the FDA has been avoiding coming right out and saying it, and is taking little tiny baby steps towards admitting it, doesn't mean we just fell of the turnip truck. Gluten is gluten. Why would only certain types of companies buy from a cheap source? Duh.

Oh, and I think I found the solution to the Mystery of the Disappearing Forks. We had like service for 20 or something, and now we have four. The spoons and knives are still around. I figured out that it must be the paper plates. No, they're not eating the forks. I think the forks have gotten tossed in the garbage with the plates. Well, at least the kids are making an effort to be helpful and responsible. Now if only they weren't so spacey like their mommy. We got some new forks from IKEA, but they're cheap cafeteria forks and I just can't make myself put them in the fork compartment with the others. I put them off to the side with the oddball stuff. I really need to get over the fork anxiety.

Warning! Strong and Ranty Opinion Ahead!

I absolutely HATE the word "homeschooling". It implies that we sit at the table with the kids' noses in textbooks, parents in front of the chalkboard. Ugh. Bleah. No. My children are not schooled, and education does not happen by sitting within four walls, particularly the same ones all day, every day. If I believed in either of those things, I'd just send my kids to school! I much prefer the term "independently educated".

As for the people who wonder how I can possibly know if my children are learning what they should, well, if you can't tell who is educated and who is not, it probably says a lot more about you than about them. I wonder what "should" means too. I assume they mean what the government has decided they should learn, and when and how. Ah yes. We know how efficient the government is, especially when it comes to agencies and institutions. Hey, you know what would be a great idea? Let's put the government in charge of our kids' learning! Yeah! Jeez Louise. I honestly don't know what a kid of a particular age is governmentally determined to be taught. I know that my kids learn as much as they possibly can. They don't stop, They just keep going. They learn to their potential. You can't do better than that, so why do I need to know what our really crappy local school district thinks? I don't. For the record, I come from a family of public school educators who fully stand by my educating of my children. One was paid a lot of money as a special consultant to completely revamp a district's curriculum based on her observations of how my children learn as opposed to how traditionally schooled children learn. She didn't just revamp it, she threw it out and invented a whole new one.

Public education was concieved as a last resort for people who had no other choice. That's how it was intended to be used. That's fine. I agree that it should be there. I think it's utterly ridiculous that those of us who would actually use it that way are looked at as if we have three heads! Would I send my children to private school if I had the money? Maybe. It depends on the school. Most private schools are simply cushy versions of the public education model. Again, if I wanted my kids to sit in front of a chalkboard within the same building all day every day, I could do it for free in a public school.

I don't teach my kids much at all. They learn a ton. You can't stop a kid from learning. You can hold him back, or crush his love of learning, but you can't stop him. You can encourage and facilitate learning, but you don't cause it. It would almost be hubris to think so. I can only shake my head at the suggestion. For me, the proof of the pudding is in the tasting. When a woman in a museum points to your child, and comments to her companion that she can't believe they paid seven bucks apiece for their guided audio tour when they could just follow "that kid" for free because she "knows way more than this crappy museum guide", there's nothing left to say.

They Have to Hire Me Now

Because I've come up with the most fabulous idea they've ever had on television. I think that Hugh needs to be a guest on the LLS, and it should be Naked Week. Or they can just tell him it is. Whichever. Craig's considering it. He has to drop trou too. I would be happy to bake him a pie for his troubles.

A Short Craigspam, for Medicinal Purposes

Lost My Mojo

I can't get anything done. Nothing! The past two weeks have been worthless for me, other than dealing with my daughter's latest health crisis, which is a constant thing. No writing, no good cooking, no social life, no nothing. I feel stoned with or without my meds, except with them I have a slight headache and lean to the left. Being neurologically flavorful is no fun.

I have stuff to write, but can't get it together. Not at JT, not at the Acoustic Cafe. I made several attempts at knitting socks this month (a hint of foreboding) which all resulted in a ball of yarn that has been frogged five or six times and now has bad knitting juju. I put that aside for some cotton. I figured how complicated could a washcloth be? Argh. Mind you, I recently finished an aran sweater for my son. That's no small task. I should be able to knit a frickin' square with pretties in it. It's just not there for me right now. I don't know what to make of it.

I've kinda been running with scissors lately. Maybe this is the universal "you'll put someone's eye out" slowdown. Maybe I can't force my brain, but I'm still trying to force my fingers. Meanwhile, I can't even speak English. At least my kids have a clue what I'm saying and are used to me. Oh, and guess who is headed back to L.A. for "three weeks", which really means four, five, six, who knows?

Here I Sit

Not packing for our trip to PA tomorrow. All the clothes are packed, but I have to do meds and toiletries, which I can't do until after we're done using them in the morning, but still, I'm sure there's something I could be doing, like packing my purse/diaper bag. That's besides dishes and laundry. I might just knit and go to bed and then get up early. I'll move the laundry over, but I hold out no great hope for the dishes.

Meanwhile, I'm pondering the experience I had earlier this week. Never before have I heard death metal played on a digeridoo. My kidneys are still shaking.

I'm an Idiot.

So my special project commences tonight. I'm fairly confident about my work on it. The only thing that could blow it would be nerves. So guess what? I'm very nervous about being very nervous. I need to be smacked in the head.

"Special" Parenting Moment

This morning I was explaining to my daughter why it's important to be able to write well, and how it can make a difference between who gets chosen for a particular job, grant, school, etc. My 5yo chimed in.

5yo: Do you need to write to get a job picking up litter?

ME: No.

5yo: YAY!

I'm so done with this damned stomach virus! Let's see who's tougher against raw garlic! HAHAHAHAHA! Oh yeah, don't mess with me because I get crazy! Meanwhile, enjoy this lovely bit of juvenile humor:

I Just Don't Understand!

Why oh why is puking such a popular pastime with my children? WHY???

And why does a drug that is like cocaine to most people put me right to sleep? I'm so frustrated right now, you wouldn't believe. I'm forcing myself to be awake in case I have to hold a bucket under my 3yo's chin.

HAPPY SPRING!

Although my yard is still a tundra, happy first day of spring! We colored eggs today. Although I made a point of staying out of the kitchen while they were boiling, my daughter told me they were peeping again. LALALALA I CAN'T HEAR YOU!!!!

We made really good bread nests too. I managed to save some for the Man of the House. I suppose tomorrow we'll go to the park for our annual egg chucking fest. I wish I had some Peeps.

BEST! SIDE-EFFECTS! EVER!!!!!!!!

I was reading Newsweek yesterday and I came across an advertisement for a drug that I can't remember the name of. It's for restless leg syndrome. Anyway, I was reading the side-effects (for amusement) and check it people- hypersexuality and compulsive gambling! I'm not kidding! Well, it will keep their legs from being restless as they cruise the casinos with hookers all night.

My Crazy Life

I just found my car on Consumer Reports "used cars to avoid" list. Yay for me! I'm also so PMS paranoid that I added brownie mix to my grocery order, even though I know I have a box in the pantry. I'm afraid it might not be enough.

But not to worry! I recieved in the mail, the answer to all my problems! That's right, you guessed correctly. I recieved a paper drawing of a hankerchief. It is annointed and blessed! Yes it's a BIBLE hankerchief! All I have to do is write on it the exact amount of money I would like to recieve or the exact amount of brownie mix if I like, put it under my bed with the SPECIAL SEALED PROPHECY that it came with, and the next day, mail it back. WTF? The insane writing all over the envelope was most entertaining.

We are NOT Amused!

A particular harem boy is in deep doodoo tonight. The previous post was just part of a bit that I wrote about the Lichtenstein/Switzerland thing. Yes, I mentioned the terrifying swiss army knives.

GUESS WHAT SAID HAREM BOY/LATE NIGHT TALK SHOW HOST DID IN HIS MONOLOGUE?!!!!

AAAAAAAAAARRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHHHH!!!! My children heard me howl. This is not the first time, either.

Look, harem boy, you either need to get the hell out of my brain or give me a job! Mistress is not pleased. Not pleased at all. You get to clean out the gutters now. Grrrrr.

WW III Narrowly Avoided

Switzerland recently invaded Lichtenstein by accident. They got about 2 km in before they realized it and turned around. Lichtenstein is TINY. I’m surprised that at 2 km, they hadn’t already crossed it! It’s barely noticeable.
“Um…”
“What?”
“I think we just stepped in Lichtenstein.”
“Eew!”
“No, it’s okay, it’s a country!”

Favorite Lyrics of the Day

Brought to you by Bruce Springsteen:

"Just wrap your legs 'round these velvet rims and strap your hands 'cross my engines"

Yeah. 'Nuff said.

I Crack Myself Up...

But I'm not going to tell you why because somehow I don't think you'll be laughing with me. You'll just have to trust me on this one.

Feeling Better Today

But not quite better enough. Hmmm. What could cheer me up?

Wolverbutt!!!!!

Yeah, that's the ticket.

Shitteriffic Day

I guess there's not much more I need to add to that. Except FUCKIN' IPOD!!!!!

Speaks for Itself

Just Stuff

Last night I dreamed that I was at some kind of meeting and hadn't had breakfast. Someone kindly gave me a coffee. It was Starbucks. I spent the rest of my dream debating whether or not to drink it. I think that's because I have a stomach virus. Starbucks is pretty much the same thing, but without the chills and body ache.

And on an unrelated note, just a small peeve. Heather Mills didn't lose her leg in a motorcycle accident. That implies that she was riding one and crashed. No, she got hit by one when she was crossing the street. Maybe no big deal to anyone else, but different enough to me to be annoying.

Special Project

I'm working on one and it's moving along nicely, apart from it being literally freezing in the room where I mostly need to work on it. Some people don't believe I'm doing it, I'm sure. Some think I'm crazy (which would help anyway), but mostly people think it's great. Not sure what my husband thinks. He might not want to tell me. Anyway, I'm filled with squee over it and I'm not telling you what it is. Heh. Just that I need a babysitter and a pair of brass ovaries.

Things I Don't Really Need to Know About

I went through the drive-thru and the girl there had her tongue pierced. Whatever, no big deal, perfectly usual, except that attached to the stud was a chain with a ring on the end. It just hung out of her mouth and flopped around when she talked. WTF????? It doesn't look terribly decorative and I can't imagine what social statement it could possibly make other than "Duh", but I was trying not to gag. I mean, how could you not gag with that on? And wouldn't you drool a lot and it would all drip down the chain? This must be an incredible show of self-control or of deadened nerves. I'm going with number two.

And on the way home, I passed a salon that had a sign out front advertising "brow threading". What the hell is that?????? No, please don't tell me. Please. I don't want to know.

A Phrase That Should Not Exist

"Three-year-old, white boy hip-hop" and it sounds something like this:

My name iss
My name iss
Da woof is on fayuh!

I just don't know.

Breakfast OOPS

Do not take ritalin with twenty ounces of hot chocolate that is made with real dark chocolate. Not the usual sugary drek. REAL stuff. Full of bromides and caffeine. My stomach is vibrating now. I hope I don't gak. I bet the ritalin didn't even matter. I take a baby dose anyway. But I don't normally have caffeine. Bleah.

You Tube is Annoying Me

It seems to be tag-teaming with tne new Blogger to not let me post videos anymore even thought I changed to the appropriate info. Well, I'm trying a way around it and here goes, because you deserve to share in this classic moment of humiliation.

I've Discovered My Superpower

Really, I have. It always seemed normal to me so I never noticed it, but now I realize that I have never seen another human be able to do it. I have the uncanny ability to pour stuff into bottles without using a funnel and not making a mess. Really, I'm not kidding. Please don't hate and fear me. I'm just like you in every other respect. (assuming you are small and cranky and have big boobies)

Public Service Announcement

Fruit pie is breakfast food, not dessert. Have a nice day.

Special Moments in a Relationship

You know when you're dreaming that your husband or boyfriend is cheating on you (or otherwise being an ass) and you wake up and you smack him? Ha. Then you're mad at him for the rest of the day. My poor husband has been suffering for dream husband's actions for twenty years now, bless him. Not funny, yet I can't stop laughing at it. I'm just terrible, aren't I?

Just Wondering

You know how there's always a class clown? I wonder how that works at Ringling Bros. Clown College?

Overheard this snippet of conversation...

...between two of my harem boys and I am TOTALLY NOT MAKING THIS UP! They really said this:

CRAIG: Zombies like to eat human flesh.
JAMES: Who doesn't?

They just make me wonder sometimes. They might require more supervision.