Wendys? I believe you owe me an apology...

....or at the very least an engineering degree. Check out what came in the kids meal today:

Are you freaking kidding me? I was doing OK until I realized I'd forgotten to put Yogi's chair back in to slot M and had to take the thing halfway apart and then reassemble.

KIDS MEAL.
Which means the KIDS should be able to do this.
Stupid marketing department and it's 3D puzzles. I'm not going back there until a totally mindless keychain is the prize.

Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus

(I have copied this from http://www.newseum.org/yesvirginia/ , where they even have a photo of the original editorial. This is one of my very favorite stories at Christmastime.)


Eight-year-old Virginia O'Hanlon wrote a letter to the editor of New York's Sun, and the quick response was printed as an unsigned editorial Sept. 21, 1897. The work of veteran newsman Francis Pharcellus Church has since become history's most reprinted newspaper editorial, appearing in part or whole in dozens of languages in books, movies, and other editorials, and on posters and stamps.


"DEAR EDITOR: I am 8 years old.
"Some of my little friends say there is no Santa Claus.
"Papa says, 'If you see it in THE SUN it's so.'
"Please tell me the truth; is there a Santa Claus?

"VIRGINIA O'HANLON.
"115 WEST NINETY-FIFTH STREET."

VIRGINIA, your little friends are wrong. They have been affected by the skepticism of a skeptical age. They do not believe except [what] they see. They think that nothing can be which is not comprehensible by their little minds. All minds, Virginia, whether they be men's or children's, are little. In this great universe of ours man is a mere insect, an ant, in his intellect, as compared with the boundless world about him, as measured by the intelligence capable of grasping the whole of truth and knowledge.

Yes, VIRGINIA, there is a Santa Claus. He exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy. Alas! how dreary would be the world if there were no Santa Claus. It would be as dreary as if there were no VIRGINIAS. There would be no childlike faith then, no poetry, no romance to make tolerable this existence. We should have no enjoyment, except in sense and sight. The eternal light with which childhood fills the world would be extinguished.

Not believe in Santa Claus! You might as well not believe in fairies! You might get your papa to hire men to watch in all the chimneys on Christmas Eve to catch Santa Claus, but even if they did not see Santa Claus coming down, what would that prove? Nobody sees Santa Claus, but that is no sign that there is no Santa Claus. The most real things in the world are those that neither children nor men can see. Did you ever see fairies dancing on the lawn? Of course not, but that's no proof that they are not there. Nobody can conceive or imagine all the wonders there are unseen and unseeable in the world.

You may tear apart the baby's rattle and see what makes the noise inside, but there is a veil covering the unseen world which not the strongest man, nor even the united strength of all the strongest men that ever lived, could tear apart. Only faith, fancy, poetry, love, romance, can push aside that curtain and view and picture the supernal beauty and glory beyond. Is it all real? Ah, VIRGINIA, in all this world there is nothing else real and abiding.

No Santa Claus! Thank God! he lives, and he lives forever. A thousand years from now, Virginia, nay, ten times ten thousand years from now, he will continue to make glad the heart of childhood.

Thankfulness

The holiday weekend started on Tuesday night when the girls and I went downtown to see "Shrek: The Musical". So much fun - such a special girls night. Quiet Wednesday, cleaning up for company the next day - and then Thanksgiving! Husband's parents and brother were here (I seriously lucked out in the in-law department, his entire family is so great), and my brother's family was here with us. Special, because my niece from CA was here for the holiday and that they chose to share their family time with us was wonderful. The deep fried turkey was delicious, the pumpkin pie to die for. Friday we wound down, the girls and I got a late start but went to have lunch and spend the afternoon with my dad - their Papa. They love their Papa! Saturday DD1 and I went shopping (as DD2 has a birthday coming up on the 30th which she's been counting down the days towards since the middle of October)... followed by DD2's big birthday dinner. (Which I know is strange timing, since Saturday wasn't her birthday - but it was our last free evening until after the big day.) Sunday we just happened to have four tickets to the Bronco's game - so we bundled up and off we went! It's was DD2's first visit to Mile High, and we all had a pretty good time. (They now both HATE the Rams, who beat us... which is an OK sentiment with their dad.)

I was really sad that the holiday weekend was ending. So much to do packed in to five days. I was so very Thankful that it had been such effortless fun.

But today when we woke up there was snow on the ground, and now the house is cozy, warm, and so very quiet. I'm hanging out with my dog, mug of hot coffee in my hands... and I am very at peace. That doesn't happen to me very often, so I'm very thankful. It was a wonderful weekend, and now I need the quiet.

Yesterday I thanked God for creating my family, who I love so much.
Today I thank God for creating "quiet."

What's on Twitter?

You know about Twitter, right. Where you get to share your thoughts in 140 characters or less? I don't have a lot of followers on Twitter, but I do follow over 50 people - 30 or so of them make me giggle every day. I also throw out some of my best thoughts on there, because it's easier than blogging... so in case you don't Tweet, here is what I haven't been blogging:

Dear @peoplemag, Ryan Reynolds is not sexy, he is "cute." There is a difference. Robert Downey Jr. is sexy. Please make note. Thank you.

I don't want to brag, but with those pancakes I made tonight I think Bobby Flay would be on the losing end of a throwdown.

At the checkout lane in the grocery store tonight: Husband, "I see the Kardashians are in trouble again." Daughter, "What's a Kardashian?"

I love when I put gas on the credit card, and then get an email that tells me I'm approaching my limit. For a $46 dollar balance?? Bwahaha!

How do I know for sure it's Monday? At 2:15pm I figure out my yoga pants are on inside out. And I've been out in public like that. Lovely.

Keith Partridge is SIXTY?? WTH???

Am re-reading Pride and Prejudice... sigh. I LOVE this story.

My children just returned home with more candy than I will EVER let them eat... operation "throw away a few pieces a day" starts in the am.

watching Hoarders while i clean house, find out it is an anxiety disorder? I am so screwed.

Dear Political Campaign Admins, I've already voted. Stop calling. 8am on a Tuesday, really?

Making homemade cinnamon applesauce with my 7 yo. She didn't know you could MAKE applesauce - so clearly I'm doing a good job there.

My husband, right this very minute, is watching TJ Hooker on TV. I wonder if he feels all "22" again?

I hear that the relaxing effect of chamomile tea is multiplied if you steep it in vodka.

I wish you guys could see my 7 year old popping her hip hop moves through my kitchen. Does she have to grow up, or can I pause here?

My daughter knows the words to an Eminem song? WTF? I guess she's done borrowing my iPod until she's 21.

Something I never pictured myself saying at 7:55am? "Get down off the kitchen chairs to practice ballet."

Beginning to understand why boarding schools are so popular, and why they start to send kids around age 11.

I saw Kathie Lee on Today earlier. If she's going to do that to her face, she's gonna need to pay more attention to her hair.

Tomorrow is Tuesday:Psychologist day.Where she reminds me to listen to my snarky inner bitch & leave the guilt behind. Worth. Every. Penny.

my 5th grader reported some kissing that was going on to a teacher today. (she tattled on 2 other kids.) High 5 me for raising "that girl"!!

I like holding the door for people who are far away, you know... so they have to run a little!

Black nail polish seemed like GREAT idea - till I tried to remove it. Now looks like I've been changing oil on the car. Not worth the cute.

talking about vacations with hubby yesterday, asked "Remember our honeymoon?" His response, "No, not really." Slapped him.

I love Friday. I want to take Friday out for coffee and catch up, we don't see nearly enough of each other.

How is it possible, with a nose the size of mine, that it is the only body part I missed with the sunscreen??

So there, in a nutshell, is an example of things I don't blog because I feel like there isn't enough story there to write about... although no one ever said that a blog entry had to be a certain length, did they?

Putting it in perspective.

My daughter just looked at me and asked, "Were the 1900's fun?" Followed up with, "Has it been nice living in two centuries?"

I no longer feel young.

Husband's Facebook update

This morning Husband updated his facebook with the following:

"Happiness is a new truck."

THIS is why he's saying that:

He got his Frontier Pro4X (with the luxury package - because when you off-road you need the comfy leather seats and open sunroof) yesterday. And it doesn't even count as his Christmas present!! He can't wait to get it up in to "man country" in the mountains. Hmmm, I wonder if a trip to "man country" includes his three favorite girls?

Sad news...

We're going car shopping today. Which in itself isn't so sad, but it means that we've reached the point where paying $2200 to (not a guarantee) fix the Minivan isn't really such a good investment anymore. ($800 in the Spring, $700 about 6 weeks ago... just crazy.)

So, Husband wants a truck. DD1 is coming with us today to do some test driving. Last night when we were driving home from picking Husband up at work she said something about going car shopping, and I said, "Actually, we're going truck shopping. Daddy wants a truck." She said, "Trucks aren't cars?" I said, "Well, they're different than cars." Then she said, "Oh right, like thumbs aren't fingers."

I love her.

Wish us luck!

Updates

The dog is doing fine. She's doing so great that she went out trick-or-treating with the girls and dad last night. One neighbor, someone who loves Siberian Huskies, thought she was about a year old - so I'd say the bounce is surely back in her step. (That and it must have been really dark outside... because while she certainly doesn't look like she's coming up on her 13th birthday, placing her in the "puppy" category is pushing it a little.)

The car (minivan) that the dealership fixed for free? You know, that isn't such a great bargain IF THEY DON'T ACTUALLY FIX THE CAR. Husband decided to drive it to the airport this morning... leaving me the dependable car just in case. Good thing he did, as the minivan overheated on the way to the airport, Husband had to let it cool down and bring it back home, and then the whole family piled in to the dependable car to first take Husband to the airport and then to drop the darling daughters off at school. (They were only 10 minutes late... GO US!) So, yeah. We'll be visiting the mechanic again later this week to see what's up. Really it was the "Luck of the Irish" that we decided he'd take the minivan this morning - or I'd be broken down on the side of the highway with Husband in a different city and two kids not delivered to school. (And, this probably goes without saying, but of course I didn't shower this morning - which would have added a nice trailer trash touch to the mommy/damsel in distress vibe.)

On the bright side, my dog is happy and healthier than she has been in quite a while.

Then there is all that other stuff. And, at the very least, it seems to be fortunate timing. Because of the darling daughters' Halloween haul I am certain that I have enough chocolate to get myself through this crisis.

Here's to the Luck of the Irish!

Why do I heart the internet?

Right now I'm seething after a phone call from our vet's office. We ended up getting overcharged by $116 because of an accounting error that the "gentleman" at the front desk wouldn't acknowledge upon checkout (as I'm trying to juggle a dog who is bleeding from the mouth, listen to post op instructions and medication dosages). He told me I'd have to call the next day to work it out.

Over the last two days I've had to talk to three people in their accounting department to get them to give us a credit. They never did admit a mistake, but when I told them I'd scan the bills and payment records and put them on the internet to expose their accounting practices, they said in the interest of keeping me as a customer they'd credit the money. Right now? I LOVE the internet. Because the internet is WAY more than word of mouth complaining. That kind of stuff can go viral - and trust me, I'd work my behind off to get it there. (They actually did make a mistake, why can't they admit it and just be cool?)

However, after this dental ordeal is over I think it's time to change Veterinary offices. There has to be an office that is more customer oriented, right?

And, if that credit isn't in my account by Monday? I'm posting it all right here.

UPDATE: The vets office made good on their word - a credit for $116 hit our bank today. Know what else? My car broke down (again), and the dealer fixed it for FREE because it was something they should have caught last time it was in (a month ago). All of the sudden it pays to be a consumer!

It is over.

“It is over.”

These are the words written in an email that we received this morning to let us know that a friend has passed away. Husband’s former co-worker has lost his wife, his partner, his love. I did not know her well at all, I only met her a handful of times. But Husband always informed me of how she was doing. His co-worker shared the struggle during conversations with my Husband, and I felt happiness for them when they received good news… and prayed for them when the news was not good.

“It is over.”

The note was written at 2:19am. My heart is broken for him. This was not a sudden illness; she has been fighting cancer for a very long time… since before Husband met them.

“It is over.”

It is the end of so many things. The end of her struggle and the end of her pain. The end of the small arguments or teasing that make up the conversation after you’ve been married to someone so long that the other topics have all been covered. The end of their children having their mom around to call and talk to, to hug, to be there for them even though they didn’t really need it anymore. The end of endless doctor appointments and medications. The end of not knowing ‘when?’, which is the question you never really want answered.

“It is over.”

When you get married, it is with every expectation that you will be growing old together. You are taking on a partner for the rest of your life, but at some point that ends. One of you always finishes growing old before the other one does. This is something they should tell you before you get married, just so you know. This couple really got cheated in this department, as to lose your spouse in your 50’s is unthinkable. Yet, I attended a funeral just two days ago of a woman who left behind a husband in his early 70’s. Again, I doubt that he thinks they got to grow old together – as early 70’s probably doesn’t feel all that old to him. I am no less sad for him. I don’t know how I would face it if Husband stopped growing old before me… I can’t even go there in my head. I don’t know how my dad manages, and he and my mom made it to 81 together before she passed away. I don’t think my dad thought they were done growning old together yet either.

“It is over.”

This is what my brother said to me on the phone when I called him to tell him that I was too tired to drive back to the hospital when mom was dying. He called to say, “it’s time if you want to try to come down.” It was the middle of the night, and after talking to my husband had decided I was just too tired to safely drive back to the hospital. When I called my brother back to tell him he said, “It’s OK. She’s gone. It’s over.”

I am so sad for anyone who has to hear these words and for anyone who has to say these words. It seems that we hear them all too often at our age. Friends losing parents,friends losing spouses. We are at that age. Today, for Dory… who fought so hard for so long, it is over. May she rest in greatly deserved peace, and may her family find peace with her passing. Today my prayers belong to them. I am really very touched by the fact that "it is over."

I honestly wonder...

I wonder how many times I have spoken the words, "It's not a trampoline, it's a sofa. Stop jumping on it."

I think I may have hit the million mark about 35 seconds ago.

Because THAT is what little sisters DO!

DD1 had a bad week.

DD1 has actually had a couple of bad weeks. At school. DD1 has been having a rough time remembering to get all of her school work done and turned in on time.

DD1 has had to sign her "Tally Sheet" three times in the past couple of weeks. (You have to sign your Tally Sheet when you don't turn in assignments.)

Anyway, DD2 (who is only in second grade, as opposed to DD1 being in fifth grade) has been walking around all day telling me that she hasn't ever "flipped her card" (the second grade version of a Tally Sheet) EVER in her life. Not once. And did I know that (Sister's name) had signed her Tally Sheet THREE TIMES?

She's been waiting for something like this for seven years. Seven long years of being perfection's little sister.


I? Am the youngest of six.


I? Totally get where she is coming from.


I? Am also the mom of the child who is so thrown by all of this "Tally Sheet signing" that I can see the pain on her face every time the topic comes up. So, I feel compelled to remind DD2 that, although I've never received a phone call from a teacher at school about DD1's behavior, DD2 was only in kindergarten for six days before I got my first ever teacher phone call about how a certain someone had decided she had completed enough school work and was not going to do any more. Ever.

Her reply? "Yeah, but not THREE TIMES!"

Oh, to be the little sister.
Oh wait... I am.

Christmas Card Design Idea 2010

Never too early to think about our Christmas Card design, right? I love to have a picture of the kids, or the whole family on the front - exuding happiness and holiday joy. It's the inside greeting I usually have a hard time with... I hate to get too repetitive, and I'd like it to be original each year.

So, when this showed up on Dooce's site (as pointed out by Mrs. Nielson), I knew I might have the answer to this years question, "'Season's Greetings' seems so over done. What can I say that would REALLY let people know how I really feel?"

I feel like this sentiment from artist Mike Monteiro sums it up perfectly:

Because really? I probably did. (I wonder if he does licensing agreements for short runs of greeting cards?)

(To see more of his work FOLLOW THIS LINK RIGHT HERE. And then check out the other artists in the right hand column on the site. All that amazing artwork is for sale. Awesome.)

See, now you're anxiously awaiting our holiday greeting card.

And December is a LONG way off!

Bwahahahahaha!

Las Vegas

OK, relax... I'm working on the entry. It's not an easy one!

Cotillion

She's growing up!

Here is DD1 the day of her first Cotillion class. She loved her dress, and thought the white gloves were so fancy.


Here is her whole look. New dress for the occasion, and she was digging that her shoes had a bit of a heel. Also, she looks SO much like my mom in this picture - it's her smile!

It's always more fun when you do stuff like this with friends!

...and you can take the girl out of the play clothes, but the playful attitude doesn't really change!

She must have said a hundred times that she didn't want to take "etiquette classes," but she didn't realize that to learn social graces you get to go do social things. Need to learn party manners, introductions, and conversation? Their class was a party. Need to learn proper table manners? Lunch at the country club. Once that sunk in? We were golden, she was happy, and now she can't wait to go back! (October is a Sock Hop... know where I can find a poodle skirt?)

Don't know who said this...

This is making the rounds on the Internet... would love to know where it originated - because it is all kinds of awesome!

Be the kind of woman that when your feet hit the floor each morning the Devil says, "oh crap she's up!"

I find this brilliant and funny all at once

When talking to my psychiatrist, I often refer to, "my family." But then I always have to throw in, "the one I grew up with, not the one I have now." He said that there is a clarification that makes it much easier to keep them straight in my head, to compartmentalize them if you will. The family I grew up with is, "my family of origin." The family that Husband and I have created is, "my family."


The family that Husband and I have created is "MY FAMILY."

It does feel so much better to have that all straightened out.

Prima Donna in training

My daughter, dancing around with her goldfish snack crackers in her hand - moving slowly in to the family room where snacks are not allowed. Me, "Hey! Where are you going with that food?" Her, "Wherever my 'balancé' takes me..."

Guess I'll be buying more ant traps.

Update on "Roughing It"

I picked her up at 5pm on Friday. She saw me and started crying. She was sunburned, and dusty, and tired... and she cried. And then she was OK, she just had a lot of emotions built up.

There were things she loved about camp: Archery, Horseback riding, the "Queen and Fairy Godmother" game, their bunk mate Francis (who is one of 12 children, and DD1 thought she was hilarious), songs and s'mores, cookout breakfast the last morning, volleyball, four of her counselors - especially Kiwi, her counselor from New Zealand.

There were things she didn't love about camp: The latrines, showering in semi-privacy, the ants that live in the tent's wooden plank floor, the moths that live in the top of the tent, she missed us a lot (perhaps even more than we missed her if that is possible), and that her flashlight batteries which were brand new died the first night.

There are things I wish I had pictures of: Her sitting on the wooden steps to the tent the morning they all woke up at 4am and were waiting for the sun to come up, her on her horse - who she now thinks of as a life long friend, her eating chocolate chip pancakes that last morning - famished and exhausted and disheveled.

She'll start telling us a story, then skip crucial details or reference things I have no clue about, and when she finishes her story we're totally confused. I don't know at what age it sinks in to kids that you are TRULY a separate person from your parents, but from the way she talks I know that DD1 is still very firmly in the subconscious mind set that I simply "know" everything about her life. That we automatically just "know" what has happened to her. She hasn't yet figured out that I'm really not omnipotent, that there are vast portions of her life that I sort of don't have a clue about... which is one of those things about parenting that surprises me. I didn't know it would be like that, before I was a mom. Becoming a mom has taught me so much, especially how much I didn't know before.

Overall? The good outweighed the bad, and camp was good. For both of us.

********

At check-in:


Finding their tent area on the map:

With her BCF (Best Camping Friend):

Her actual cot:

Right before going home:

My daughter... roughing it?

Just got back from dropping DD1 off at camp. Girl Scout Camp, seems innocent enough right? Where they sleep in bunk beds in cozy cabins with a bathroom down the hall. Even the "indoorsy" type of girl can handle Girl Scout Camp - it's hardly "rustic". Totally do-able for my DD1, who didn't even remotely inherit the love-of-the-outdoors gene from her daddy.

Yea, that's what I thought too.

Turns out when you are an "older" girl (4th grade on upwards), it's not so much a "cabin camping" experience as it is a "backwoods camping" experience.

Behold where my daughter, who really doesn't even like to sleep with the window open, will be laying her head down tonight:



...and here is a glimpse of the luxurious bathroom accommodations she'll obviously be sharing with a fellow camper - since that looks like a two seater to me:



...and where will she be washing her hands after using the "biffy", as they call it? Where will she be brushing her teeth? Funny you should ask... because here is the lovely vanity area:

The mess hall, shower, nurse, craft cabin are all (I kid you not) about 1/2 a mile down a steep, winding hill. It was a hike to get up that hill to the cabins, and she gets to do that walk several times in the few days. (We pick her up at 5pm on Friday.)

And I thought her biggest hurdle regarding this camping trip was going to be her morbid fear of insects. Boy, will that be low on her list!

She's back Friday, and she's an all or nothing girl - she'll either LOVE it, or HATE it. I'll let you know!

What a difference a school year makes!

First day - Last day

School year 2009/2010

Look what happens when you don't stop to notice them growing up! I can't believe the year is over - there were times I thought it would never end... and here we are again: POOL SEASON!

The ghost of SMA on the move?

I have to wonder if the former SMA is, or has recently been, in Poland? Lots of Polish hits to my May 22, 2009 post (the one that gets hundreds of hits weekly).

I've often contemplated removing that post... but it's just so interesting to me that it draws so many hits. I like seeing what countries end up there.

Anyway, happy Saturday.

We interrupt this blog...

...for a very important announcement.

Before I go scrub the bathrooms I want to note that I, at this very moment, have ten perfect fingernails. They are all the same long length (they would make my old piano teacher snarl), and they look fabulous. I'm thinking they haven't looked like this since our wedding day.

I fear this afternoon I will not be able to make this statement, so I'd like to mark this moment in time. If we make it through unscathed I think a celebratory manicure tomorrow morning might be in order.

May 21st, 11:11am. Best nails I've (maybe) ever had.

You may now continue with your (hopefully less shallow and vain) day.

Gleek post

Is it just me, or did Glee disappoint last night?

The whole thing felt like it should have been advertised as, "A very special episode of Blossom." Perhaps, "an episode your family can't afford to miss."

Blech.

I watch Glee for its teen angst, its camp, its superb writing and over developed characters. I do not watch Glee for a morality lesson. I really don't want Glee to be a show I want to start watching with my kids, because they can get something out of it. (I sort of like having a semi-trashy show that my kids cannot share. Yes, it's selfish. I own that.)

Glee? Strike One.

How did I NOT see this coming?

Because, after having (nearly) two glorious weeks of relatively carefree sinuses, I woke up today with pressure behind my face, the teeth on the left side of my head aching, and my eyes all gooey and icky. In other words? Here we go again.

I've decided that my sinuses are like three year old toddlers - who for reasons unknown will get mad and throw a tantrum. They've decided to stage one today, and I'm pretty sure they've invited all of their little angry sinus friends to come join in the fun.

I'm going to mention now that I've been having sinus problems on and off now since NOVEMBER. My doctor thinks the initial sinus problems are brought on by allergies (which have never been a huge problem for me before, certainly nothing a little Zyrtec couldn't cure), and are made worse in reaction to viruses. Do we know what I'm allergic to? Nope. Could be as simple as dust (not likely, would have probably known before now, I mean really. Have you seen my house?), could be a chemical in the new-ish flooring (but that should be a more constant problem, not the peek-a-boo situation they've got going in there), could be something strange the wind blew in - since we've had a relatively dry winter here, that is most likely the cause. However, now the sinus cavities are so very sensitive that every little virus is running for them as if they are the last save haven on Earth.

So I wake up today with the sinuses all in an uproar and ready to cause harm. Coincidentally, today is Volunteer Day with the first graders.

First graders. Possibly the least clean and most germ ridden of all elementary school children with the exception of kindergartners. (I maintain my position that kindys could wipe out entire populations, and are the perfect distribution system for biological weapons of mass destruction what with their secretious habits putting even slugs to shame.) Volunteering with the first graders today leaves only one question up for grabs during my doctor visit next week:
Viral or Bacterial?

Wish me luck.

Can't seem to fall to sleep tonight...

April 27th is the day we lost my mom. In the wee hours of the morning two years ago she passed on while my oldest brother held her hand.

It still seems wrong that she isn't here anymore. I can still hear her voice, especially that tone she'd use when she left a message and I hadn't talked to her for a week or so. "Dodi, it's mom. I need you to call when you get this message."

She'd call when the baby birds in the birdhouse hatched, and the girls needed to come over to see them.

She'd call when she spotted an obituary for someone they knew years ago, someone I didn't know:
"Honey, I hate to tell you this, but Mrs. So&So passed away."
"Mom I don't know who that is." (At which point I'm sure I rolled my eyes.)
"Sure you do, she was a neighbor of ours when we first got married, they came out to the house here for dinner when you were about 5. Remember, she had that straw hat?" (This conversation would continue until I said something about remembering her, which I almost never did.)

She'd call when a product she knew I used was on sale.

She called when the neighbors left their sprinklers on too long.

She'd call mostly to check on her girls - all three of us. Because even when I was up to my eyeballs in laundry or stress and emotion, or general "too busy"ness, and she'd let me know she was there. Always there. Even when I was mad at her or she was mad at me... she was always there.

And then she wasn't there anymore.
And I still can't imagine a world without her - even though that is the world that I live in.


Mom... I love you, and I miss you!

She's a tricky one...

Oldest daughter had to clean the bathroom as a punishment. (Toothpaste mysteriously exploded again. Always with the toothpaste! It's like her "signature move" or something.) Well, before she even got started cleaning she turned to me to ask, "Hey, maybe you could pay me for this extra chore?"

Somehow I think she's missing the point of the word PUNISHMENT.

Because 17 is all grown up?

What 17 year old, who was in the news in December for sporting a NEW TATTOO, is now moving in to her own 4000 sq foot house?

Did you say Miley Cyrus? (Who, let me say again is SEVENTEEN.)

Ding ding ding ding - RIGHT! Miley has moved in to her new mansion down the street from her parents recently, and I'm guessing we're all agreed that this is a fabulous idea.

Because at 17 she shouldn't be in high school. (You never hear about her being schooled at all.)

Because at 17 she should be allowed to do whatever in the world makes her happiest without all that pesky adult supervision. (Have you SEEN her 20 year old boyfriend? He's hot.)

Because she's MATURE, at 17, and responsible enough to live on her own.
By herself.
Alone.

Riiiight.

I'm planning that my kid is still going to be turning her cell phone over to mom and dad at 10pm when she is 17 so she doesn't text with her friends all night long (a mom can dream of this sort of life can't she?)... but I'm guessing Miley's parents aren't worried about that kind of stuff. At this point I think we can all agree that all night text sessions are the LEAST of their worries.

It's Hollywood after all... what could possibly go wrong?

Freaky Friday

I'm a GLEEk

It's baaaaaaccccckkkkk!

Did you see Glee last night? (If not - why not? How can you NOT be watching this show?) The show really is perfection for someone like me. Who digs her entertainment just a little bit judgy, a lot campy, able to mock itself, with good storylines, and finely crafted characters. The cheerleading coach is one of the most hilarious characters ever written - she's mean. Mean like you'd never get to be in real life. Mean like, "Save me a spot next to you in hell" mean. And while you hate her for it, you ADORE her for it. Writing for that character has to be a career high for that writing staff.

Glee has it all. The bitchy cheerleaders, the arrogant jocks, the pitiful geeks - and all so completely overdone that it's unparalleled in it's excellence.

CLICK HERE IF YOU NEED VIDEO PROOF

...and HERE IF YOU NEED MORE PROOF

Glee is hilariously creative. If you mixed "Scrubs" with "Fame", stirred in some skits from "Saturday Night Live", and then threw in a little "Rocky Horror Picture Show"? You would start to see something that might resemble Glee on one of it's weaker days.

It's just that good.

And I? Am a GLEEk.
If they had a Glee-Con? I'd totally go.

Blowin in the Wind

Wow, it's windy out there today. The local news webpage said today would be "breezy at times." Really? Because wind gusts upwards of 45mph feel more than "breezy" to me.

And to our house.

Did you feel the wind last night? Because you didn't have to be outside to feel it. The wind gusts hitting the back of our house last night howled around the corners, and we could feel the house actually moving back and forth. It was loud, and it was powerful.

The wind was so powerful it carried my seven year old from her bed to mine - where it placed her down so gently that I didn't even know she was there until she was already fast asleep again. When I hugged her in tight, I held her and listened to the wind outside - and I was so glad it had carried her in to me.

(...at which point I was also so very glad of our decision 10 years ago to buy a king sized bed!)

Jen Lancaster

Jen Lancaster is by far one of my favorite "new" authors. I've been a fan since "Snarkywood", follow her blog, and own all 4 of her books. She has a new book coming out soon, "My Fair Lazy," and now she's a NEWSPAPER COLUMNIST!!! (Not in our newspaper, of course, which is where the internet comes in super handy.)

I am sitting on like 5 blog entries that aren't good enough to publish - because now I've over thought them and they're not at all spontaneous. So, until I get my act together and become spontaneous (Really? Is that something you can plan?) I give you:

Humor Hotel
Don't Blame Mii, Japan
by Jen Lancaster

(...you can thank me in the comments.)
(I feel like such a proud fan!)

Man Oh Man, I'm ready for SUMMER!

I'm done with Winter. Bring on the warmth of SUMMER!

45

45 years ago we lived in a different world.

45 years ago our nation was at an impasse in its struggle for civil rights.
45 years ago our country entered into a war in Vietnam, a fight they would lose 10 years later.
45 years ago protesters were burning their draft cards, "My Fair Lady" won a Best Picture Oscar, Malcolm X was assassinated, Charlie Brown was on the cover of TIME magazine, and Canada unveiled a new flag.

45 years ago, a disk drive for an IBM 360 was the size of a washing machine, and held about 10 megabytes.

If a couple was married 45 years ago, they would now be celebrating their Sapphire anniversary.

It is estimated that 45 years ago, 3.3 billion people were living on this planet.

45 years ago it was 1965. The Rolling Stones had their first #1 hit, the Beatles played Shea stadium, the mini skirt was introduced, and the world was introduced to Spaghetti-O's.

Some of our favorite entertainers were born in 1965:
Julia Ormond
Kristin Davis
Dr. Dre (I know...)
Lawrence Llewelyn-Bowen
Sarah Jessica Parker
Robert Downey Jr.
Linda Evangelista
Brooke Shields
J.K. Rowling (not technically an entertainer... but V.I.P. nonetheless)

45 years ago, February 13, 1965 fell on a Saturday.
I know that because it was the day I was born. My kids were both born on Saturdays, like me, which I think is pretty cool.

Today I am 45.
It took me my whole life to get here, and it seems like in the blink of an eye I am 45 years old. And the old cliche is true... it is the first day of the rest of my life.

Wasting all my best stuff on Facebook

I've neglected my blog. I know it, you know it. People don't stop by here very often anymore, in case you count that May 2009 entry... which I don't. I tend to put snippets of my day up on Facebook now, not taking the time to really write things down. But today is good, today is one of those days you want to remember. Well, twenty minutes of today was so special I know it's worth remembering - and lets be honest, sometimes you don't get twenty minutes in a whole week that are lovely and special.

Today my darling daughter, the younger one, is home sick. She's in first grade... and today she is missing her Valentines Day party at school. She's sad, but she really doesn't feel good at all. Husband was up with her lots last night, and she's got a pretty bad cold.

She announced a bit earlier that she was hungry. I asked her what sounded good to her, and she couldn't think of anything. So I started sharing some ideas. Peanut butter crackers? No. Jelly sandwich? No. Soup? No. Jello? (pause) No. (Ahhh, I'm getting warm.) Ice cream? (pause) "Can I really have that?"

She's missing her school party - which is a big deal in first grade. Know what you do when that happens and the only thing that sounds good to her for lunch is ice cream?

You give it to her.

Know what you do next?

You go get yourself a bowl and join her.

You watch her eyes get big, and you make her giggle about how naughty this is - how wonderful to get to do something so out of the ordinary. You both laugh about how this is the silliest, craziest lunch in the whole world!

And then you smile, and you file this one away forever.

I wish...

I SO wish I had written this...


January 25, 2010
Dis This

Dear Neighborhood Thugs,

Just so you know, flashing gang signs while wearing mittens makes you come across as less of "a stone cold killer" and more like "a sock-puppet performance artist."

Please consider investing in a pair of gloves or waiting until spring to represent.

Best,

Jen

Do you ever read her blog? You should. You really should.

Comment Moderation

Well, I'm sad. I had to turn on the "Moderate Comments" button - seems I'm a spam target. Not new posts, but quite a few of my older posts have icky sex link comments attached to them now. So, for a while at least, I'm going to have to moderate all comments. If it only keeps happening to the older posts I'll change the moderation to any post older than 14 days.

Sorry about this - I guess it was bound to happen eventually.

:)

Robert Downey Jr. is a sexy beast...

I've stated in on Facebook - which is like declaring to the world that I swear my allegiance to his sexiness. But you know why? Not just because he's SO good looking, but watch this speech. This is a fun guy - Really Fun - DANGEROUSLY fun... would-be-awesome-to-be-his-wife-fun.

Best Golden Globe Acceptance Speech EVER click here.

Robert Downey Jr. is a sexy beast.

Books vs. Movies

The book is always better, right?

Not really. I mean, as a rule - yes... the book is generally better than the movie. At least when the story is similar. Sometimes you wonder, other than the topic, is it the same story? Did the screenwriter bother to read the book?

Julie and Julia? Movie was better. In fact, it wasn't even really the same story at all - aside from the main character cooking her way through the 524 recipes in 365 days, and a few anecdotes to tie it all together. The Julie Powell in the book is a very different Julie Powell than we see in the movie. In the movie we love her. She is darling, kind of a goody two shoes, and is usually pretty excited about her project. We want her to triumph. In the book we hear about how there is cat hair all over her kitchen, she ends up with maggots under her dish draining board, she fails at the recipes as often as she succeeds, and she's a lot more whiny than the book version. I'm sure the book version is closer to the truth. Plus? Can you picture the movie version of Julie dropping the F-bomb very often? The book version of Julie swears like a sailor - she's like me, totally out of control as to what comes out of her mouth at times. I get the feeling that if the book version of Julie met the movie version of Julie they wouldn't get on very well, the book version would talk about her behind her back. That said, I think I'd like to go find the blog and read through it. I'm guessing a version a lot closer to the book version resides there, but it will be interesting to find out. Plus, the movie was half Julia and Paul Child... a charming love story that I suspect was almost as glossed over as the "real" Julie Powell was, but charming nonetheless. I think the movie was better, but keep in mind I saw the movie first. I saw the movie when it was in theatres, and I didn't read the book until this weekend. I wonder what my feelings would have been if 'd read the book before seeing the movie?

Anyway, I'm passing the book on to my neighbor (Mrs. Kravitz) because I saw the movie with her. I want to see what she thinks. I think the stories were so very different - aside from the main premise - I'm wondering where the idealized version of Julie Powell came from? However, I like her better.

I like a little gloss to cover up the rougher edges I suppose.

But, I believe that you always walk away from a book with something. In this case? The something has nothing really to do with Julie OR Julia. It is the quote, "All things in moderation, including moderation." She attributes the quote to Jacques Pepin, the on the Internet it states that the author is Mark Twain. Either way? It's a good message.

Take your diamonds, I like pearls

Well, not completely true - I do like diamonds! However, I LOVE pearls. I think they are gorgeous. My wedding dress was scattered with sewn on (fake) pearls, and it was so pretty. My brother, TB, gave me a pair of pearl earrings when I was a teenager - I have no idea where they are today, but I loved them and wore them a lot. I also found a very wee baby pearl in a smoked oyster once. DD1 and I marveled over it, and I have it in my jewelry box. She loves to tell the story.

After my mom passed away (2 years ago this Spring) I received the pearls that Dad gave her on their very first Valentine's Day together. I had loved them since I was a little girl - so much that Mom and Dad gave me my own string of pearls when I graduated from college. I love both sets, and will pass them down to my girls someday.

The cost of real pearls is high. (By "real" I mean saltwater cultured pearls - the cultured pearls are almost always perfectly round because you can control the shape of the irritant that seeds the pearl to begin with - and saltwater pearls have a beautiful lustre. Did you really need this information that I find so fascinating?) Thus, freshwater pearls are more popular. Still beautiful, and more readily available.

My birthday is coming up... I'd love to see a set of these in a box for my gift! I've never owned black pearls before - aren't they gorgeous! (They are freshwater pearls.) The site where I found those earrings is full of beautiful pearl jewelry... and I would have LOVED it in my 20's - when it was all about me me me, and pearls could be worn every day without regard to children grabbing them, household cleaners splashing on them, or general impracticality. But someday my friends I will be the older lady whose signature look includes a double strand of pearls, and expensive shoes. Like Barbara Bush - but with better hair!

My husband's fear

Husband and DD1 were having a conversation about a month ago, while folding laundry, about reincarnation.

DD1: "I think I'd like to come back as a (female) deer."

Husband: "Oh? Why is that?" (Thinking she was going to make some profound statement about the freedom of being a deer, or recognizing something wonderful that only a nine year old can still see in wonder...)

DD1: "Well, you know how the male deer fight over the does? I think that would be pretty cool."

When my husband tells this story, this is where his palm hits his forehead as he exclaims, "Oh no, please tell me I'm not raising 'that girl'."

Oh, to be the father of a daughter. Completely different worries. He's been the teen aged boy that girls manipulated and played with... he's been on the other side of heartbreak. The side I can't see or ever know about. The boy side. I've had a few big heart breaks in my life - but I've never seen his side of that dance.

This parenthood thing? More every year I marvel at it and exponentially add to the statement, "This? Is going to be an interesting ride."