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.