So the neighborhood yard sale is coming up next weekend. I've been toying with what we should rid ourselves of. It's a tantalizing prospect... selling off all the things we don't need, giving them away if necessary, and clearing up some much-needed storage space.
The problem comes when I stop to consider my completely inexplicable need for redundancy.
Front/Back 2 seat stroller? Check. Side-by-side 2 seat umbrella stroller? Check. But which one to keep and which one to sell? See, the side-by-side is so much easier for street walking, and easier to get the kids into and out of. The front/back combo is much better for mall applications, as the width of the side-by-side makes me a moving target for the unbridled HATE! of people attempting to walk by me through the too-narrow mall hallways. You see my dilemma?
Same goes for the 2 blenders. Now, we have used our blenders (one of them, actually) a total of perhaps 3 times since receiving them as wedding gifts. Only one of those times was for the preperation of frozen beverages -- theoretically the only reason to have more than one. (Daquiris AND margaritas, people!) And yet? We don't actually make frozen drinks. Like, not ever. Except that one time. But the thought of being rid of the extraneous blender makes my palms break out in a cold sweat. What if I suddenly decide to make bulk sno-cones for a birthday party or something?
This all comes, you see, of having parents who are mad collectors. INSANE collectors. Collectors of metal detectors that might sorta work, maybe, sometimes, but were an awesome deal at a yard sale and who could pass that up? Seriously. The fact that I understand the NEED to own a metal detector just because you will never find one for so great a price again? Scares the bejeezies out of me. Because I know how crazy that is. And yet? I own no less than 2 sundresses that I bought at Target and will never wear, but THEY WERE ON SALE. (Is there a therapist in the house??)
So the only solution I can come up with is to convince myself that we should go ahead and sell off the excess stuff and, should a dire need for some object thus extracted from our private cache arise, I will have unhindered go-ahead to purchase a new one.
If nobody can offer a better solution, I'm gonna have to go with this. And so, I'm emptying out my basement of my college dishware, those groovy (but very old and now dilapidated) chairs shaped like sea-shells that we got at the salvation army store for $100 about 5 years ago, and the various sizes and shapes of glass vases for holding flowers. And should the need arise for me to find housing for 15 bouquets of flowers all at once? I'll just have to buy some more. I've given myself permission.
Yup.
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
Monday, May 28, 2007
5 Things. Because I Can.
5 things you may not know about me, huh? Well, it's been floating around, and I may have done it a few times already, and you may be thinking "But you tell us so very much more than we wanted to know already, could there really be 5 things left that you have not already blabbed??" And the answer is quite simple. Yes. Aren't you the lucky ones?
1) Like the indubitable CrankMama I, too, am a Real Estate Hussy. I lust after a smaller house with a bigger yard, maybe an old townhouse with room in the back for a vegetable garden and some fruit trees. The dark secret is that I currently have both apple and plum trees in my yard, but have yet to make successful use of any of these fruits. Maybe this year I will aspire to making some plum jelly. If you're very very nice, I might send you some. If you're very lucky, it will not give you botulism.
2) I love to garden. Even if I'm not very good at it. This year, I finally got the large hostas divided and replanted, tried my hand at some dainty snapdragons (they're doing very well, thank you for asking) and watched the columbine come to full bloom for the first time. I feel like a six-year-old, full of joyous wonder, every time I plant something in the ground with my two little hands and it actually takes root and blossoms.
3) I have the hiccups. Right this second. Which may be related to the fact that I also have reflux and IBS. Isn't that just lovely? My GE specialist suggested cutting out foods which could aggravate these conditions: caffeine, tomatoes, spicy foods. I suggested she take me out behind the barn and have me put down, as the removal of these items from my life would suck a hefty portion of my enjoyment of it right down the crapper.
4) My eyes were brown when I was a little girl. They have since changed color, and are now mostly a very dark green with just a bit of chocolate brown circling my pupils. I have no explaination for this phenomenon, though I am sure a few minutes on Google could give me some ideas. Come to think of it, I believe my dad's eyes used to be brown, but have turned blue in recent years. Perhaps it's genetic.
5) I am obsessed with the show "Deadliest Catch". T and I watch it together religiously, and are familiar with the names and faces of all of the captains and most of the crew chiefs. I have a huge crush on Edgar Hansen, Captain Sig's little brother. I never, ever thought that watching a bunch of crab fisherman pull 800-pound crab-traps out of the ocean could be such compelling television... or that it would forever change the way I look at ordering a pound of crab legs for dinner.
So there you have it. Time to de-lurk for a moment and show yourselves in the comments! C'mon... share just 1 thing that people probably don't know about you.....
1) Like the indubitable CrankMama I, too, am a Real Estate Hussy. I lust after a smaller house with a bigger yard, maybe an old townhouse with room in the back for a vegetable garden and some fruit trees. The dark secret is that I currently have both apple and plum trees in my yard, but have yet to make successful use of any of these fruits. Maybe this year I will aspire to making some plum jelly. If you're very very nice, I might send you some. If you're very lucky, it will not give you botulism.
2) I love to garden. Even if I'm not very good at it. This year, I finally got the large hostas divided and replanted, tried my hand at some dainty snapdragons (they're doing very well, thank you for asking) and watched the columbine come to full bloom for the first time. I feel like a six-year-old, full of joyous wonder, every time I plant something in the ground with my two little hands and it actually takes root and blossoms.
3) I have the hiccups. Right this second. Which may be related to the fact that I also have reflux and IBS. Isn't that just lovely? My GE specialist suggested cutting out foods which could aggravate these conditions: caffeine, tomatoes, spicy foods. I suggested she take me out behind the barn and have me put down, as the removal of these items from my life would suck a hefty portion of my enjoyment of it right down the crapper.
4) My eyes were brown when I was a little girl. They have since changed color, and are now mostly a very dark green with just a bit of chocolate brown circling my pupils. I have no explaination for this phenomenon, though I am sure a few minutes on Google could give me some ideas. Come to think of it, I believe my dad's eyes used to be brown, but have turned blue in recent years. Perhaps it's genetic.
5) I am obsessed with the show "Deadliest Catch". T and I watch it together religiously, and are familiar with the names and faces of all of the captains and most of the crew chiefs. I have a huge crush on Edgar Hansen, Captain Sig's little brother. I never, ever thought that watching a bunch of crab fisherman pull 800-pound crab-traps out of the ocean could be such compelling television... or that it would forever change the way I look at ordering a pound of crab legs for dinner.
So there you have it. Time to de-lurk for a moment and show yourselves in the comments! C'mon... share just 1 thing that people probably don't know about you.....
Friday, May 25, 2007
What Happens In Vegas...
... Stays in Vegas?
Well, sometimes it does. Sometimes you bring it home with you.
But more on that in a moment...
I spent 4 glorious days staying up too late, eating too much good food, and sleeping until my body woke up naturally. It was heaven. We watched "Rent" and "The Fountain" (both great movies I had missed out on in the theater). We gambled at Bally's and drank "Pink Cadillacs" at Jimmy Buffet's Margaritaville lounge, under the cooling spray of the overhead misters. We ate amazing sushi at Momo, then ate more of it (plus some fantastic, fresh sliced, garlic salmon sashimi) at the $15 all-you-can-eat lunch at Sushi Club.
On my last day, the amazing and lovely (as always) Dr. Allie-sahn set me off in her car to seek out the shopping mall and movie theater. I saw Spiderman 3 (I give it a B- over all) and spent too much on salt scrub and body butter. I had no intention of buying salt scrub OR body butter, but the Ukranian woman who cornered me in the mall was a wicked svengali. She wove a hypnotic tale of dead sea minerals and made my hands really soft. Before I knew what had happened, she was running my credit card and handing me a bag of cosmetic whoozits. Dazed, I finally managed to escape the web when she tried to rub something on "all those wrinkles under your eyes!" Apparently a strange woman touching my face was apparently more scary than the thought she might put a hex on my grandchildren, because I hastily conjured up a tale of sensitive skin and prescription face cream as I slowly backed away. Still a bit dizzy, I headed for a little Starbucks therapy and the nearest shoe store.
It was an amazing parade of humanity in Las Vegas. The casinos are neat and all, and I'm always up for a hot Centurion copping a feel on ye olde bedonkadonk.
But the hilights of the trip for me (aside from, obviously, spending time with my oldest and dearest friend... and, of course, the sushi. Holy fishpaste, Batman, the sushi!) Were seeing the M&M World store and, even more, checking out "Bodies: The Exhibition". I thought it would be macabre, but it was like walking into an anatomy textbook. Fascinating, thought provoking, and life-affirming in an odd way. It helped, of course, to have a medical student along to guide the tour. When Allie mentioned dissecting the male anatomy and removing the testicles, the look on the faces of the guys standing next to us was priceless. Of course, they immediately wanted to know more about all the rest of the exhibits, too. Rocker that she is, she answered their questions with patience, humor, and grace.
It was also really cool to see the actual "non-smoker vs. smoker" lungs in a case. Next to it, the exhibition provided a clear plastic receptacle with a cigarette pack-sized hole so people could toss away their smokes. I watched one guy in his mid-twenties study the twisted, black lung tissue of the smoker lungs before dropping in his pack of Camels on top of 50 or 60 other discarded packs. Who knows if it will stick, but it was groovy to be part of his momentary optimism.
I capped off my existential journey by exercising my god-given right as an American to consume mass-produced-crap, buying post cards and fridge magnets to bring back as souvenirs. I wished I could bring Allie and her husband, the Amazing Wonder Steve, home with me, too. But as they say... What happens in Vegas... Stays in Vegas.
Of course, sometimes? What happens in Vegas comes home with you.
And sometimes it is in your nose.
Oh, yes, my friends. Mama went and got her nose pierced. In Vegas. At a tattoo parlor called "The Precious Slut". It's a teensy-weensy little diamond stud. It was also a not-so-teensy-weensy declaration of mini-van independence.
I already broke the news to my own Mama. I can feel her hands twitching with the desire to remove it - all the way from Africa. But she loves me, and to keep her sanity I suspect she will eventually write it off of as one more of my crazy, liberal eccentricities. Like belief in global warming and allowing the kids to run naked in the sprinklers.
I can't say enough thanks to Allie and the Amazing Wonder Steve for having me out, or to T for sending me. Whenever I start to feel like the zany, madcap moxie of my youth is all but spent, I will look back on this trip and remember that I still know how to strap on my adventure shoes and set out to make a ruckus. And that my family, though they missed me desperately (or so they assure me) survived without me for a few days and emerged, mostly unscathed, to tell the tale.
Well, sometimes it does. Sometimes you bring it home with you.
But more on that in a moment...
I spent 4 glorious days staying up too late, eating too much good food, and sleeping until my body woke up naturally. It was heaven. We watched "Rent" and "The Fountain" (both great movies I had missed out on in the theater). We gambled at Bally's and drank "Pink Cadillacs" at Jimmy Buffet's Margaritaville lounge, under the cooling spray of the overhead misters. We ate amazing sushi at Momo, then ate more of it (plus some fantastic, fresh sliced, garlic salmon sashimi) at the $15 all-you-can-eat lunch at Sushi Club.
On my last day, the amazing and lovely (as always) Dr. Allie-sahn set me off in her car to seek out the shopping mall and movie theater. I saw Spiderman 3 (I give it a B- over all) and spent too much on salt scrub and body butter. I had no intention of buying salt scrub OR body butter, but the Ukranian woman who cornered me in the mall was a wicked svengali. She wove a hypnotic tale of dead sea minerals and made my hands really soft. Before I knew what had happened, she was running my credit card and handing me a bag of cosmetic whoozits. Dazed, I finally managed to escape the web when she tried to rub something on "all those wrinkles under your eyes!" Apparently a strange woman touching my face was apparently more scary than the thought she might put a hex on my grandchildren, because I hastily conjured up a tale of sensitive skin and prescription face cream as I slowly backed away. Still a bit dizzy, I headed for a little Starbucks therapy and the nearest shoe store.
It was an amazing parade of humanity in Las Vegas. The casinos are neat and all, and I'm always up for a hot Centurion copping a feel on ye olde bedonkadonk.
But the hilights of the trip for me (aside from, obviously, spending time with my oldest and dearest friend... and, of course, the sushi. Holy fishpaste, Batman, the sushi!) Were seeing the M&M World store and, even more, checking out "Bodies: The Exhibition". I thought it would be macabre, but it was like walking into an anatomy textbook. Fascinating, thought provoking, and life-affirming in an odd way. It helped, of course, to have a medical student along to guide the tour. When Allie mentioned dissecting the male anatomy and removing the testicles, the look on the faces of the guys standing next to us was priceless. Of course, they immediately wanted to know more about all the rest of the exhibits, too. Rocker that she is, she answered their questions with patience, humor, and grace.
It was also really cool to see the actual "non-smoker vs. smoker" lungs in a case. Next to it, the exhibition provided a clear plastic receptacle with a cigarette pack-sized hole so people could toss away their smokes. I watched one guy in his mid-twenties study the twisted, black lung tissue of the smoker lungs before dropping in his pack of Camels on top of 50 or 60 other discarded packs. Who knows if it will stick, but it was groovy to be part of his momentary optimism.
I capped off my existential journey by exercising my god-given right as an American to consume mass-produced-crap, buying post cards and fridge magnets to bring back as souvenirs. I wished I could bring Allie and her husband, the Amazing Wonder Steve, home with me, too. But as they say... What happens in Vegas... Stays in Vegas.
Of course, sometimes? What happens in Vegas comes home with you.
And sometimes it is in your nose.
Oh, yes, my friends. Mama went and got her nose pierced. In Vegas. At a tattoo parlor called "The Precious Slut". It's a teensy-weensy little diamond stud. It was also a not-so-teensy-weensy declaration of mini-van independence.
I already broke the news to my own Mama. I can feel her hands twitching with the desire to remove it - all the way from Africa. But she loves me, and to keep her sanity I suspect she will eventually write it off of as one more of my crazy, liberal eccentricities. Like belief in global warming and allowing the kids to run naked in the sprinklers.
I can't say enough thanks to Allie and the Amazing Wonder Steve for having me out, or to T for sending me. Whenever I start to feel like the zany, madcap moxie of my youth is all but spent, I will look back on this trip and remember that I still know how to strap on my adventure shoes and set out to make a ruckus. And that my family, though they missed me desperately (or so they assure me) survived without me for a few days and emerged, mostly unscathed, to tell the tale.
Viva Las Vegas, Baby.
Friday, May 11, 2007
TGIF. And stuff.
Stuff. It's happening. And I'm actually quite busy and brain-full and not just in the "look at me, I'm so dark and mysterious and totally turned inward" sort of way. There are actual THINGS! HAPPENING! Things which justify the use of all those extra capital letters. Things which I can't talk about yet - and isn't that just the pits? Totally.
Today was a nice, domestic day. Playgroup this morning, kids running wild through the house and squealing with glee as they tried to beat each others' brains out as gently as possible. Messes made and cleaned. Snacks consumed. Many juice boxes drained.
Then bubbles blown, photos taken, more snacks consumed. Naps. Music listened to. Phone calls. Life-altering decisions discussed. Cartoons watched.
It's a strange and wonderful life, isn't it?
Can you tell I've gone off the ADD meds? My train of thought is a bit more like the diverging of a freeway junction at the moment, but it's not a bad thing. Life is joyous, and I'm learning that being quite so focused is not always the answer. Slow down, enjoy the pace, sit in the sun and watch bubbles float away.
All of that, and still no indication of what is going on around here. Isn't that just infuriating? Don't I know it. Many irons in the fire. We'll see what kicks up and I'll let you know soon.
In the mean time? Time to change my hair again this weekend, and do some pre-Vegas shopping. Mama needs some new kicks and some warm-weather wear. 6 days until I board a plane and wisk away to sunnier climes. Climes with blackjack tables and sushi and the most fun girl I know. Mostly that last bit - about the girl who I will converse with until her ears likely bleed. That will be the highlight, the rest is just icing. Sweet, gooey icing.
Life is moving forward again. Isn't it grand?
(Oh, yes. It is.)
Today was a nice, domestic day. Playgroup this morning, kids running wild through the house and squealing with glee as they tried to beat each others' brains out as gently as possible. Messes made and cleaned. Snacks consumed. Many juice boxes drained.
Then bubbles blown, photos taken, more snacks consumed. Naps. Music listened to. Phone calls. Life-altering decisions discussed. Cartoons watched.
It's a strange and wonderful life, isn't it?
Can you tell I've gone off the ADD meds? My train of thought is a bit more like the diverging of a freeway junction at the moment, but it's not a bad thing. Life is joyous, and I'm learning that being quite so focused is not always the answer. Slow down, enjoy the pace, sit in the sun and watch bubbles float away.
All of that, and still no indication of what is going on around here. Isn't that just infuriating? Don't I know it. Many irons in the fire. We'll see what kicks up and I'll let you know soon.
In the mean time? Time to change my hair again this weekend, and do some pre-Vegas shopping. Mama needs some new kicks and some warm-weather wear. 6 days until I board a plane and wisk away to sunnier climes. Climes with blackjack tables and sushi and the most fun girl I know. Mostly that last bit - about the girl who I will converse with until her ears likely bleed. That will be the highlight, the rest is just icing. Sweet, gooey icing.
Life is moving forward again. Isn't it grand?
(Oh, yes. It is.)
Wednesday, May 09, 2007
Bullet Is As Bullet Does
* Spent a lot of time with my arms straight up in the air. In so doing, managed to paint the 13 foot wall in our living room and the stair well in a mellow butterscotch color that warms up the entire house. Who knew that living in a beige world could be so bad for the psyche? Yeah, I probably did, but was too lazy to actually do anything about it until now.
* Moved furniture. Upstairs couch went downstairs, downstairs couch moved upstairs. *phew!* Much better.
* Had friends over for a luscious, lazy cookout on Sunday. Cornish hens roasted over charcoal, more Alabama white barbecue sauce, grilled zucchini, and potatoes and onions. Frosty cold beverages and good conversation. Way too much chocolate cake. A perfect afternoon in the sunshine.
* Bought fabric for the living room curtains. Red with a floral print and a coordinating red and gold-striped pattern - soon our living room will be ensconced in a warm, old-Virginia style. It's finally looking like someone actually lives here. Besides mental patients.
* Jack requested food for his security blanket, Mimi. I handed him some invisible food, which he gratefully accepted with a "Thanks, Mom. That's a six-story burrito!"
* I leave for Vegas in just over a week. I can't decide if the heart palpitations are excitement, terror, or both. I've never been away from the kids for more than a night - and I've only done that twice since Jack was born. I'll be gone for 4 whole days. I know, I should embrace it and not think twice, right? Yeah. But apparently, in spite of my protests to the contrary, I'm a nougaty-soft-centered mommy after all. Luckily, I'll be hanging with my best girl - who has already promised to distract me with the best sushi in Nevada and a visit to the Bellagio. So I might just be okay, after all.
* Jack received a postcard from his pen-pal in California. From Disneyland. I think the universe just experienced a paradigm shift, as he realized that "Tyler is in DISNEYLAND! With Mickey! And he saw Mickey! WHEN CAN I SEE MICKEY IN DISNEYLAND?!" Watching the informational video from Disney World, FL, was one thing. It was all theoretical, you see. But now? Now that an actual three-year-old has sent him a postcard from actual Disneyland? Now it's a whole new ball game, people.
* I'm off to take a shower and get over to the preschool early. They asked the moms to arrive half an hour early today - for a "Mother's Day Suprise". It appears, despite any doubts posed by my inner critic, I am actually a mother. One deserving of glitter-and-glue, paper mache, preschool recognition. Who knew?
* Moved furniture. Upstairs couch went downstairs, downstairs couch moved upstairs. *phew!* Much better.
* Had friends over for a luscious, lazy cookout on Sunday. Cornish hens roasted over charcoal, more Alabama white barbecue sauce, grilled zucchini, and potatoes and onions. Frosty cold beverages and good conversation. Way too much chocolate cake. A perfect afternoon in the sunshine.
* Bought fabric for the living room curtains. Red with a floral print and a coordinating red and gold-striped pattern - soon our living room will be ensconced in a warm, old-Virginia style. It's finally looking like someone actually lives here. Besides mental patients.
* Jack requested food for his security blanket, Mimi. I handed him some invisible food, which he gratefully accepted with a "Thanks, Mom. That's a six-story burrito!"
* I leave for Vegas in just over a week. I can't decide if the heart palpitations are excitement, terror, or both. I've never been away from the kids for more than a night - and I've only done that twice since Jack was born. I'll be gone for 4 whole days. I know, I should embrace it and not think twice, right? Yeah. But apparently, in spite of my protests to the contrary, I'm a nougaty-soft-centered mommy after all. Luckily, I'll be hanging with my best girl - who has already promised to distract me with the best sushi in Nevada and a visit to the Bellagio. So I might just be okay, after all.
* Jack received a postcard from his pen-pal in California. From Disneyland. I think the universe just experienced a paradigm shift, as he realized that "Tyler is in DISNEYLAND! With Mickey! And he saw Mickey! WHEN CAN I SEE MICKEY IN DISNEYLAND?!" Watching the informational video from Disney World, FL, was one thing. It was all theoretical, you see. But now? Now that an actual three-year-old has sent him a postcard from actual Disneyland? Now it's a whole new ball game, people.
* I'm off to take a shower and get over to the preschool early. They asked the moms to arrive half an hour early today - for a "Mother's Day Suprise". It appears, despite any doubts posed by my inner critic, I am actually a mother. One deserving of glitter-and-glue, paper mache, preschool recognition. Who knew?
Thursday, May 03, 2007
Standing on the Edge
... the edge of the kitchen island, in this case. When using a chair to climb atop the kitchen island in order to finish the install of the two-light island fixture, it is wise to note that an 18 month old child is surprisingly adept at moving chairs.
I realized this today as I heard the wooden feet of the chair scraping across the kitchen floor. By the time I had figured out how to climb down from my precarious perch without sending the glass light domes to their doom on the floor, the little bugger had helped himself to several unopened cans of diet Pepsi, and was enthusiastically rifling through the junk drawer on a very intent treasure-seeking mission.
Who knew we had 9-volt batteries in the house? What do we even own that uses 9-volt batteries? The last time I remember the need of one involved being 9 years old and sticking my tongue to both contact points. It was a very important dare. Or something.
I'm also working on finding good uses for several 34 cent stamps, half a hot glue stick, and a match book from some bar in Mexico I have no memory of going to on our honeymoon.
I'm taking 2 lessons from all of this.
First, I obviously need to invest in invisible fencing for the baby for use when working on home improvement projects. Second, if I don't clean out the junk drawers soon, I just might someday end up "that lady" on the news. You've heard those stories -- reclusive woman is found, dead for days, half-eaten by her pets. amidst ginormous stacks of old magazines and balls of twine.
It is definitely time for Spring Cleaning at our casa. Anybody in desperate need of 20 yellow security envelopes? 17 tea candles? A tush-load of ridiculously large paper clips? Because I am flush with all of the above, and will totally hook y'all up. I'm generous and thoughtful that way.
What's that? You have no use for my priceless treasures? Fine then. Be that way. I don't need to give my useless crap to you - that's why God invented eBay. Huzzah!
I realized this today as I heard the wooden feet of the chair scraping across the kitchen floor. By the time I had figured out how to climb down from my precarious perch without sending the glass light domes to their doom on the floor, the little bugger had helped himself to several unopened cans of diet Pepsi, and was enthusiastically rifling through the junk drawer on a very intent treasure-seeking mission.
Who knew we had 9-volt batteries in the house? What do we even own that uses 9-volt batteries? The last time I remember the need of one involved being 9 years old and sticking my tongue to both contact points. It was a very important dare. Or something.
I'm also working on finding good uses for several 34 cent stamps, half a hot glue stick, and a match book from some bar in Mexico I have no memory of going to on our honeymoon.
I'm taking 2 lessons from all of this.
First, I obviously need to invest in invisible fencing for the baby for use when working on home improvement projects. Second, if I don't clean out the junk drawers soon, I just might someday end up "that lady" on the news. You've heard those stories -- reclusive woman is found, dead for days, half-eaten by her pets. amidst ginormous stacks of old magazines and balls of twine.
It is definitely time for Spring Cleaning at our casa. Anybody in desperate need of 20 yellow security envelopes? 17 tea candles? A tush-load of ridiculously large paper clips? Because I am flush with all of the above, and will totally hook y'all up. I'm generous and thoughtful that way.
What's that? You have no use for my priceless treasures? Fine then. Be that way. I don't need to give my useless crap to you - that's why God invented eBay. Huzzah!
Wednesday, May 02, 2007
Quidquid latine dictum sit, altum sonatur.**
Somehow or other, I ended up on Gawker. No, really. I swear!
Apparently, my kid is weird. Which is awesome, because that is pretty much the only thing he can plan to inherit from me, seeing as how I already blew his future trust fund on sparkly nail polish and tacky jewelry.
So it starts like this. Yesterday, I post a tongue-in-cheek fluff item on shopping with the kids, and Jack picking out some earrings for me. (I made him put back the ones with skulls, and ended up with big stars instead.) Today, I somehow ended up the poster-child for weird momness.
SO! For the record, and for anyone who is intent on reading too far into anything I may have printed yesterday, here is the Official Stay At Aum Mom Clarification:
1) Jack is three. Picking out jewelry at the store is one step down from helping mom shop for gym socks and only just higher than eating brussel sprounts. It is also way less cool than watching Handy Manny or driving around in his Power Wheels Mustang.
2) The "Lucky Monkey" T-shirt is still awesome, but is really only worn for pajama purposes. What can I say, we're kinky that way. Besides, everyone knows monkeys are funny and laughter is good for the marriage.
3) I <3 the gays. Really. My intention yesterday was really a simple loving poke at my devoutly Mormon mother, who looks heavenward every time I express a non-conservative viewpoint. I think she has to listen to extra hours of Fox News just to wash off my liberal residue after every conversation we have. I'm also pretty sure she had to have a closed confessional with Rush Limbaugh after the gay best man walked her down the aisle at our wedding. But she did give him a hug, risking her status as Mrs. Republican Universe. Because she rules.
4) Mom is currently serving a religious mission in Africa. For the moment this is quite a relief, as she is not currently in range to throw things at me for teasing her. In front of 1,300 strangers who stumbled over here from Gawker and are now wondering WTF?
**"Whatever is said in Latin sounds profound". Because, uh... Yeah. Move it along, nothing to see here.
Apparently, my kid is weird. Which is awesome, because that is pretty much the only thing he can plan to inherit from me, seeing as how I already blew his future trust fund on sparkly nail polish and tacky jewelry.
So it starts like this. Yesterday, I post a tongue-in-cheek fluff item on shopping with the kids, and Jack picking out some earrings for me. (I made him put back the ones with skulls, and ended up with big stars instead.) Today, I somehow ended up the poster-child for weird momness.
SO! For the record, and for anyone who is intent on reading too far into anything I may have printed yesterday, here is the Official Stay At Aum Mom Clarification:
1) Jack is three. Picking out jewelry at the store is one step down from helping mom shop for gym socks and only just higher than eating brussel sprounts. It is also way less cool than watching Handy Manny or driving around in his Power Wheels Mustang.
2) The "Lucky Monkey" T-shirt is still awesome, but is really only worn for pajama purposes. What can I say, we're kinky that way. Besides, everyone knows monkeys are funny and laughter is good for the marriage.
3) I <3 the gays. Really. My intention yesterday was really a simple loving poke at my devoutly Mormon mother, who looks heavenward every time I express a non-conservative viewpoint. I think she has to listen to extra hours of Fox News just to wash off my liberal residue after every conversation we have. I'm also pretty sure she had to have a closed confessional with Rush Limbaugh after the gay best man walked her down the aisle at our wedding. But she did give him a hug, risking her status as Mrs. Republican Universe. Because she rules.
4) Mom is currently serving a religious mission in Africa. For the moment this is quite a relief, as she is not currently in range to throw things at me for teasing her. In front of 1,300 strangers who stumbled over here from Gawker and are now wondering WTF?
**"Whatever is said in Latin sounds profound". Because, uh... Yeah. Move it along, nothing to see here.
Tuesday, May 01, 2007
More Cheer-Giving Non Sequiturs
* A very productive half-hour of violin practice, wherein I totally kicked ass on the "Pepperoni Pizza" song, which is not really a song at all but it's as close as I get until I learn finger position for real notes. Also, I could totally challenge any developmentally challenged six-year-old on that number and maybe possibly have a snowball's chance of winning.
* An uninterrupted hour at the mall's indoor play area, which included several silly dance moves and a raging game of hide-n-seek
* Black nail polish with a gazillion tiny bits of gold glitter in it. I'm way too old for it, and I don't care. It's fierce, and I'm sporting it like a rock star.
* Earrings with giant stars that are totally tacky and fabulous, and were selected by a very serious Jack. I'll wear them tomorrow. With a totally age-inappropriate t-shirt, like maybe the curious george one that says "lucky monkey". Because everyone should have a lucky monkey, and also everyone should have a Jack to pick out fun jewelry. I'd better draw the line, though, at letting him pick out fabulous handbags for me. We wouldn't want to give him "the gay". Not because there's anything wrong with it, but because he'd insist I take him to a professional for haircuts and would probably also refuse to wear all those elastic-waistband shorts I bought him. Who needs a three-year-old with fashion sense?
* And the last thing making me grin tonight? The mortified expression I'm picturing on my mother's face right now. Don't worry mom, I don't really want Jack to be gay. But only because I'm a completely selfish woman who is unwilling to give an inch on my demands for future grandchildren. I can hope the world would be better suited for gay couples to adopt by then, but I'm not willing to bet on it and risk all those opportunities to make rice crispy treats and let the grandkids stay up past their bedtime. Plus, the poor kid would have no fashion role model to look up to in our house (see above-mentioned references to Curious George t-shirts and age-inappropriate accessories).
And that, my friends, is the sound of a pen as it furiously writes me out of the will. Happy Tuesday!
* An uninterrupted hour at the mall's indoor play area, which included several silly dance moves and a raging game of hide-n-seek
* Black nail polish with a gazillion tiny bits of gold glitter in it. I'm way too old for it, and I don't care. It's fierce, and I'm sporting it like a rock star.
* Earrings with giant stars that are totally tacky and fabulous, and were selected by a very serious Jack. I'll wear them tomorrow. With a totally age-inappropriate t-shirt, like maybe the curious george one that says "lucky monkey". Because everyone should have a lucky monkey, and also everyone should have a Jack to pick out fun jewelry. I'd better draw the line, though, at letting him pick out fabulous handbags for me. We wouldn't want to give him "the gay". Not because there's anything wrong with it, but because he'd insist I take him to a professional for haircuts and would probably also refuse to wear all those elastic-waistband shorts I bought him. Who needs a three-year-old with fashion sense?
* And the last thing making me grin tonight? The mortified expression I'm picturing on my mother's face right now. Don't worry mom, I don't really want Jack to be gay. But only because I'm a completely selfish woman who is unwilling to give an inch on my demands for future grandchildren. I can hope the world would be better suited for gay couples to adopt by then, but I'm not willing to bet on it and risk all those opportunities to make rice crispy treats and let the grandkids stay up past their bedtime. Plus, the poor kid would have no fashion role model to look up to in our house (see above-mentioned references to Curious George t-shirts and age-inappropriate accessories).
And that, my friends, is the sound of a pen as it furiously writes me out of the will. Happy Tuesday!
Food, Glorious Food
Food, glorious food. Because that is what we're going to talk about today.
We're not going to talk about the HOA and how I nearly ripped my hair out by the roots this weekend. We are not going to talk about my back tooth breaking on a piece of toast this morning and how I'm making an appointment with an oral surgeon to yank out 3 of my teeth (including the broken one). And we are most decidedly not going to talk about the fluorescent shop light we removed from the kitchen ceiling - in order to replace it with a much nicer island fixture - only to find yet another instance where those glorious Dan Ryan builders neglected to put an actual fixture box, but rather used what appears to have been a claw hammer to knock an unceremonious (and uncentered) hole in the sheet rock in order to yank the bare wires through.
We're not going to mention all that because then you'd get to see what a rage-a-holic I can really be when provoked.
So instead? ... Let't talk about barbecue! Alabama-style white barbecue made with cider vinegar and mayo and various spices. I was planning to do a turkey breast in the rotisserie, but when the time came it just seemed... uninspiring. Then T suggested we give the white barbecue another go. We tried it on some grilled chickens a while back, and it was really yummy but all of the sauce was used in the basting.
This means we missed out on the best part -- the extra sauce for drizzling and dipping and... well, perhaps drinking if things get out of hand. It's THAT good. On the juicy, plump turkey breast it was phenomenal.
What's that? You want a recipe? Oh, very well then.... this is the one we used to great effect. It was spectacular.
Throw in a side of potatoes and onions -- (1-2 red potatoes per person, cut in 1" cubes, with 1/2 to 1 medium onion cut into strips. Add salt, pepper, and 1/4 to 1/2 cup butter. Bake covered at 425 until the potatoes are tender, usually about 30-40 minutes). Tah-dah.
Comfort food makes it all so much better. Between the fried chicken and the turkey barbecue, my outlook is positively cheerful these days.
No, really. It is.
Why are you looking at me like that?
Here, eat some turkey and be off with you. I have dental appointments to make.
We're not going to talk about the HOA and how I nearly ripped my hair out by the roots this weekend. We are not going to talk about my back tooth breaking on a piece of toast this morning and how I'm making an appointment with an oral surgeon to yank out 3 of my teeth (including the broken one). And we are most decidedly not going to talk about the fluorescent shop light we removed from the kitchen ceiling - in order to replace it with a much nicer island fixture - only to find yet another instance where those glorious Dan Ryan builders neglected to put an actual fixture box, but rather used what appears to have been a claw hammer to knock an unceremonious (and uncentered) hole in the sheet rock in order to yank the bare wires through.
We're not going to mention all that because then you'd get to see what a rage-a-holic I can really be when provoked.
So instead? ... Let't talk about barbecue! Alabama-style white barbecue made with cider vinegar and mayo and various spices. I was planning to do a turkey breast in the rotisserie, but when the time came it just seemed... uninspiring. Then T suggested we give the white barbecue another go. We tried it on some grilled chickens a while back, and it was really yummy but all of the sauce was used in the basting.
This means we missed out on the best part -- the extra sauce for drizzling and dipping and... well, perhaps drinking if things get out of hand. It's THAT good. On the juicy, plump turkey breast it was phenomenal.
What's that? You want a recipe? Oh, very well then.... this is the one we used to great effect. It was spectacular.
Throw in a side of potatoes and onions -- (1-2 red potatoes per person, cut in 1" cubes, with 1/2 to 1 medium onion cut into strips. Add salt, pepper, and 1/4 to 1/2 cup butter. Bake covered at 425 until the potatoes are tender, usually about 30-40 minutes). Tah-dah.
Comfort food makes it all so much better. Between the fried chicken and the turkey barbecue, my outlook is positively cheerful these days.
No, really. It is.
Why are you looking at me like that?
Here, eat some turkey and be off with you. I have dental appointments to make.
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