A Mommy Blog About Raising Men, Not Boys.
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Sunday, December 30, 2007

Recycled Christmas Cookies

My husband had the most brilliant idea yesterday. You see I wasn't feeling well right before Christmas, so we BOUGHT (shudder) Christmas cookies this year to put out for Santa. He picked up a tin of fancy shmancy sugar coated, chocolate dipped butter cookies of various ilk.
The problem was, after the Coming of the Man in Red......we were sort of over them.
However, since they were for the Big Man, he hadn't picked up cheap crappie cookies -so we felt a little guilty about just tossing them. But they just lacked the, OOOMPH that homemade Christmas cookies have. They didn't inspire you to down them all in a feeding frenzy. In fact, they were just sort of "okay."
So the Husband started puzzling what to do with them. He hit upon the idea of somehow smashing them up and making a crust for something. To which I said "FOOD PROCESSOR! Like a graham cracker crust!"
So if you have some leftover random Christmas Cookies.....and hate to waste stuff, pick up a box of Jell-O Pudding and make yourself a Recycled Christmas Cookie Chocolate Pie.
I highly recommend it.
It's also an FDA recommended PMS Cure, I feel certain.

Recycled Christmas Cookies

My husband had the most brilliant idea yesterday. You see I wasn't feeling well right before Christmas, so we BOUGHT (shudder) Christmas cookies this year to put out for Santa. He picked up a tin of fancy shmancy sugar coated, chocolate dipped butter cookies of various ilk.
The problem was, after the Coming of the Man in Red......we were sort of over them.
However, since they were for the Big Man, he hadn't picked up cheap crappie cookies -so we felt a little guilty about just tossing them. But they just lacked the, OOOMPH that homemade Christmas cookies have. They didn't inspire you to down them all in a feeding frenzy. In fact, they were just sort of "okay."
So the Husband started puzzling what to do with them. He hit upon the idea of somehow smashing them up and making a crust for something. To which I said "FOOD PROCESSOR! Like a graham cracker crust!"
So if you have some leftover random Christmas Cookies.....and hate to waste stuff, pick up a box of Jell-O Pudding and make yourself a Recycled Christmas Cookie Chocolate Pie.
I highly recommend it.
It's also an FDA recommended PMS Cure, I feel certain.

Saturday, December 29, 2007

I am Part of The Problem

I am completely not interested in Brittney Spears. I can't even believe that anyone is. The girl has issues. The main issue being that she is not a girl, rather she is a woman who does not seem to realize she is no longer a girl. Regardless, I seriously don't care. The degree to which I am uninterested is truly huge in scope. I don't keep up, I just don't care.
Yet, recently, flipping through the web version of the news I see this headline that says some crap about Brittney stealing a lighter. I dunno, it just struck me. My first reaction was "Wtf?" and my second was to click on the link.
So here is Brittney Spears, in a bodega of some sort looks like buying gas, smokes, I dunno. What strikes me, is that in this tiny store.........are what I can only describe as a throng of photographers. Video, still.....all shooting shooting shooting. She's fumbling in her wallet, she's exchanging smart ass comments with them as they all vie for attention - desperate to get her to look at them, to say something, to DO something.
And I'm thinking as I watch this, what the fuck is WRONG with you people? I mean - she's BUYING GUM for God's sake....or whatever the fuck she is buying. I understand you go to a fancy party, you got the Paparazzi. You go to an LA Hotspot, you got the Paparazzi.
But.....at a shitty bodega somewhere in LA.............
she's getting followed by 30 photographers?

Why? I'm not going to rant like that whack job to leave Brittney alone.....but still, I'm baffled as I watch. And then as a little fuck you to the world, to the Paparazzi........to whomever, she walks back in, takes a lighter and says "oooo I stole a lighter I'm bad" and walks back out. Like, she's so fucking sick of them that she is trying to GIVE them something in the hopes they'll be satiated and go the fuck away.

I remark to my husband,"I don't get this? Who CARES about this? Why do they follow her around like this?"

And his remark was quite poignant. "Well, you're watching it."

Crap.
Because I watched the little ad in front of the news clip - I helped support whichever piece of crap photog shot this and sold it.....and now he has been fed and will continue to generate more video so that more people like me will randomly click on the video with real or passing interest....and it continues.

So I'm sorry Brittney Spears. I'm sorry that you can't buy gum without an entourage of jackasses following you. I'm sorry that me and my absent minded clicking continues to make your already fucked up life harder.

I am part of the problem.

I am Part of The Problem

I am completely not interested in Brittney Spears. I can't even believe that anyone is. The girl has issues. The main issue being that she is not a girl, rather she is a woman who does not seem to realize she is no longer a girl. Regardless, I seriously don't care. The degree to which I am uninterested is truly huge in scope. I don't keep up, I just don't care.
Yet, recently, flipping through the web version of the news I see this headline that says some crap about Brittney stealing a lighter. I dunno, it just struck me. My first reaction was "Wtf?" and my second was to click on the link.
So here is Brittney Spears, in a bodega of some sort looks like buying gas, smokes, I dunno. What strikes me, is that in this tiny store.........are what I can only describe as a throng of photographers. Video, still.....all shooting shooting shooting. She's fumbling in her wallet, she's exchanging smart ass comments with them as they all vie for attention - desperate to get her to look at them, to say something, to DO something.
And I'm thinking as I watch this, what the fuck is WRONG with you people? I mean - she's BUYING GUM for God's sake....or whatever the fuck she is buying. I understand you go to a fancy party, you got the Paparazzi. You go to an LA Hotspot, you got the Paparazzi.
But.....at a shitty bodega somewhere in LA.............
she's getting followed by 30 photographers?

Why? I'm not going to rant like that whack job to leave Brittney alone.....but still, I'm baffled as I watch. And then as a little fuck you to the world, to the Paparazzi........to whomever, she walks back in, takes a lighter and says "oooo I stole a lighter I'm bad" and walks back out. Like, she's so fucking sick of them that she is trying to GIVE them something in the hopes they'll be satiated and go the fuck away.

I remark to my husband,"I don't get this? Who CARES about this? Why do they follow her around like this?"

And his remark was quite poignant. "Well, you're watching it."

Crap.
Because I watched the little ad in front of the news clip - I helped support whichever piece of crap photog shot this and sold it.....and now he has been fed and will continue to generate more video so that more people like me will randomly click on the video with real or passing interest....and it continues.

So I'm sorry Brittney Spears. I'm sorry that you can't buy gum without an entourage of jackasses following you. I'm sorry that me and my absent minded clicking continues to make your already fucked up life harder.

I am part of the problem.

Tuesday, December 25, 2007

...and This Song of Mine, in Three-Quarter Time...

Baby Birth of Cool performs an interpretive version of Jingle Bells, complete with some dance moves.

...and This Song of Mine, in Three-Quarter Time...

Baby Birth of Cool performs an interpretive version of Jingle Bells, complete with some dance moves.
video

Monday, December 24, 2007

I love Being a Mom Because...

Sometimes you wonder "What the hell is in my coat pocket?" and reach in and pull out a toy Cat in the Hat.

And then it makes you cry.

I love Being a Mom Because...

Sometimes you wonder "What the hell is in my coat pocket?" and reach in and pull out a toy Cat in the Hat.

And then it makes you cry.

Saturday, December 22, 2007

The Boys Prove Me Wrong Again

So every parent with more than one child knows, it's next to impossible to get ALL of them to look at the camera at the same time. We settle for family holiday photos where one kid is twisted around, looking backward, looking down etc. We'd be THRILLED if the only problem was that one or two of them were screaming. That'd be great, because we MIGHT see their face in the deal! Every time we start off getting pics done, be it Santa or the Easter Bunny or whatever else we always say the same thing "Just shoot, they won't all look, don't worry."
So you can imagine our shock and delight, when upon Santa's knee, this was captured:

I'm a fan of this Santa, he looks pretty good and the big boy was enthralled. He's still talking about him this morning. We had to send him an email because he FORGOT to tell him some things.

I know Christmas is sneaking up, but I thought I'd share a really neat little website that has some fun Christmas recipes for cookies and treats. PUT THE ROLL COOKIES DOWN! They are the WORK OF THE DEVIL! Now. Bake something for real! I think we all know Santa will poop in your stockings if you leave him cookies off a roll.

The Boys Prove Me Wrong Again

So every parent with more than one child knows, it's next to impossible to get ALL of them to look at the camera at the same time. We settle for family holiday photos where one kid is twisted around, looking backward, looking down etc. We'd be THRILLED if the only problem was that one or two of them were screaming. That'd be great, because we MIGHT see their face in the deal! Every time we start off getting pics done, be it Santa or the Easter Bunny or whatever else we always say the same thing "Just shoot, they won't all look, don't worry."
So you can imagine our shock and delight, when upon Santa's knee, this was captured:

I'm a fan of this Santa, he looks pretty good and the big boy was enthralled. He's still talking about him this morning. We had to send him an email because he FORGOT to tell him some things.

I know Christmas is sneaking up, but I thought I'd share a really neat little website that has some fun Christmas recipes for cookies and treats. PUT THE ROLL COOKIES DOWN! They are the WORK OF THE DEVIL! Now. Bake something for real! I think we all know Santa will poop in your stockings if you leave him cookies off a roll.

Friday, December 21, 2007

The Hairs of a Billy Goat

I used to work with this woman who was always dressed to the nines. She always had the cute bag and shoes and accessories. She got her hair done frequently and was always well coiffed. She also had this mole.
It was about a half in long - meaning - it STUCK OUT FROM HER FACE about a half inch.

This monstrosity in itself might've been not so horrific, had it not also had about FIVE HUGE BLACK HAIRS jutting out of it.

It never made sense. She went to SO much trouble to look great. But couldn't even PULL THOSE FUCKING HAIRS out of her chin. They were mesmerizing. You couldn't look away. They were so insane - they made no sense. And when she smoked on breaks, it was like the cigarrette was illuminating them, just so you got a better view.

I bring this up, because last week.......I discovered that I too am becoming a billy goat. I sprouted a black hideous hair in a mole (a nice flat non-sticking up mole) on my face, and another on my cheek.

I'm horrified by this - my face is rebelling against me. I take a lot of care not to look like a total freakshow and now THIS.

BILLYGOAT HAIRS!?! NOOOO! I'm not EVEN 40 YET!! DAMMIT!

Needless to say, I plucked the fuckers. And this is a warning to all of their heirs.......YOU TOO WILL BE PLUCKED. Don't MAKE ME GET ELECTROLYSIS!

The Hairs of a Billy Goat

I used to work with this woman who was always dressed to the nines. She always had the cute bag and shoes and accessories. She got her hair done frequently and was always well coiffed. She also had this mole.
It was about a half in long - meaning - it STUCK OUT FROM HER FACE about a half inch.

This monstrosity in itself might've been not so horrific, had it not also had about FIVE HUGE BLACK HAIRS jutting out of it.

It never made sense. She went to SO much trouble to look great. But couldn't even PULL THOSE FUCKING HAIRS out of her chin. They were mesmerizing. You couldn't look away. They were so insane - they made no sense. And when she smoked on breaks, it was like the cigarrette was illuminating them, just so you got a better view.

I bring this up, because last week.......I discovered that I too am becoming a billy goat. I sprouted a black hideous hair in a mole (a nice flat non-sticking up mole) on my face, and another on my cheek.

I'm horrified by this - my face is rebelling against me. I take a lot of care not to look like a total freakshow and now THIS.

BILLYGOAT HAIRS!?! NOOOO! I'm not EVEN 40 YET!! DAMMIT!

Needless to say, I plucked the fuckers. And this is a warning to all of their heirs.......YOU TOO WILL BE PLUCKED. Don't MAKE ME GET ELECTROLYSIS!

Sunday, December 16, 2007

5 Years Married and 10 Years Together

You have a ceremony and it looks like this.

And then you go outside and they take more pictures and it looks like this.
But this isn't what makes it real. What makes it real are the days when things go wrong and despite being tired and frazzled yourself you end up holding a sleeping distraught child while he sleeps.
What makes it real are the endless days of babies sleeping at the foot of your bed, keeping you awake intermittently throughout the night, and you live through it together.

What makes it real is figuring out how to drag out three kids under the age of three to a symphony under the stars concert, because you really want to go and you used to do such things when you DIDN'T HAVE KIDS.

What makes it real is that where there was once only two apart, there were two together, then three, then five. And that this is how you always want it to be. When you wake up every day knowing that the space next to you is filled with the warmth from the one you love, and the sounds on the baby monitor are the sounds of the tiny humans you created together, your immortality sleeping soundly in toddler beds.
Happy Wedding Anniversary Family. One day of many, that made us who we are.

5 Years Married and 10 Years Together

You have a ceremony and it looks like this.

And then you go outside and they take more pictures and it looks like this.
But this isn't what makes it real. What makes it real are the days when things go wrong and despite being tired and frazzled yourself you end up holding a sleeping distraught child while he sleeps.
What makes it real are the endless days of babies sleeping at the foot of your bed, keeping you awake intermittently throughout the night, and you live through it together.

What makes it real is figuring out how to drag out three kids under the age of three to a symphony under the stars concert, because you really want to go and you used to do such things when you DIDN'T HAVE KIDS.

What makes it real is that where there was once only two apart, there were two together, then three, then five. And that this is how you always want it to be. When you wake up every day knowing that the space next to you is filled with the warmth from the one you love, and the sounds on the baby monitor are the sounds of the tiny humans you created together, your immortality sleeping soundly in toddler beds.
Happy Wedding Anniversary Family. One day of many, that made us who we are.

Saturday, December 15, 2007

Clowns are People Too

The conversation went like this:
Lil Satchmo: Does Uncle Matt drive trains with just people or freight?
Me: Just Freight.
LS: But he might drive people sometimes.
Me: No he works for CSX, they only pull freight baby.
LS: But they might pull people, you never know.
Me: Yes I do know, AMTRAK pulls people, CSX pulls freight.
LS: But maybe somtimes they pull people.
Me: No, they never pull people. Only freight.

There is a pause.

LS: But what about clowns? Clowns are people.

Me: OH........yeah.

You see........this is my brother the famed Uncle Matt......pulling clowns, and trapeze artists, and jugglers, and high wire performers etc. You get the picture.

How COOL is his job?

Clowns are People Too

The conversation went like this:
Lil Satchmo: Does Uncle Matt drive trains with just people or freight?
Me: Just Freight.
LS: But he might drive people sometimes.
Me: No he works for CSX, they only pull freight baby.
LS: But they might pull people, you never know.
Me: Yes I do know, AMTRAK pulls people, CSX pulls freight.
LS: But maybe somtimes they pull people.
Me: No, they never pull people. Only freight.

There is a pause.

LS: But what about clowns? Clowns are people.

Me: OH........yeah.

You see........this is my brother the famed Uncle Matt......pulling clowns, and trapeze artists, and jugglers, and high wire performers etc. You get the picture.

How COOL is his job?

Saturday, December 08, 2007

Binocular Soccer

Why do Japanese game shows do more fun stuff than ours?

Binocular Soccer

Why do Japanese game shows do more fun stuff than ours?

The Little Blonde Boys of My Life

Once upon a time, about 28 years ago, a little blonde boy came into my life. As he grew, he started to love trains. He talked endlessly, ceaselessly, tirelessly about trains. Relentlessly he'd show you his Walthers catalogs, ask to watch shows about trains, look at books about trains. In short, he loved trains.
He looked a lot like this, when he was little.
Then later in my life another train lover arrived. He also talks endlessly and tirelessly about trains.
Ad nauseum. That's a lot of train cars, don't you think?

Is it any wonder, that when we get these two together, they are peas in a pod? The conversation goes something like this. "Train trains train train train, steam engine diesel trains diesel steam engine diesel trains."

Or something like that.

The Little Blonde Boys of My Life

Once upon a time, about 28 years ago, a little blonde boy came into my life. As he grew, he started to love trains. He talked endlessly, ceaselessly, tirelessly about trains. Relentlessly he'd show you his Walthers catalogs, ask to watch shows about trains, look at books about trains. In short, he loved trains.
He looked a lot like this, when he was little.
Then later in my life another train lover arrived. He also talks endlessly and tirelessly about trains.
Ad nauseum. That's a lot of train cars, don't you think?

Is it any wonder, that when we get these two together, they are peas in a pod? The conversation goes something like this. "Train trains train train train, steam engine diesel trains diesel steam engine diesel trains."

Or something like that.

Monday, December 03, 2007

Beauty Queens and Band Geeks are Not the Same Group of People

This Video is confirmation.

It is however, screamingly hilarious.

Enjoy.

Huge props to Xta for finding this nugget and sharing. You rock.

Beauty Queens and Band Geeks are Not the Same Group of People

This Video is confirmation.

It is however, screamingly hilarious.

Enjoy.

Huge props to Xta for finding this nugget and sharing. You rock.

Friday, November 30, 2007

This Is the Day I Marry My Friend......

Okay so they make these wedding invitations that I have mocked since the first time I ever saw them. They start out with that line, "This is the Day I Marry My friend" which nearly made me pee my pants the first time I saw it. I think the corny "I am 18 and getting married to my boyfriend after we graduate" sort of sentiment it inspired was really what set me off. I also loved to mock the bobbin head people that were almost always on such invitations. (I believe these pieces of shit decorative items are actually called Precious Moments).

I even got a couple invitations WITH said saccharine sentiment on it.

And I didn't go to those weddings.

Why go to weddings of people who have no better sense than that, I say.


Anyway, the point of this is that the other night I was hanging out with my REAL best friend. We were doing shots, and absolutely cracking up. Connecting the way you actually DO with your friends, telling each other stuff that you only tell your friends with our faces and sides hurting from laughing so much. There was beer, and music and we played video games and we just had the best time. It'd been so long since I had hung out with a friend like that, just reveling in the joy of being together, I had forgotten what it was like.


The point though, is this.


I was with my husband. I turned into one of those people after all.


Apparently, I'm also going to have to start collecting bobbin head people now.


Crap. I hate those things.

This Is the Day I Marry My Friend......

Okay so they make these wedding invitations that I have mocked since the first time I ever saw them. They start out with that line, "This is the Day I Marry My friend" which nearly made me pee my pants the first time I saw it. I think the corny "I am 18 and getting married to my boyfriend after we graduate" sort of sentiment it inspired was really what set me off. I also loved to mock the bobbin head people that were almost always on such invitations. (I believe these pieces of shit decorative items are actually called Precious Moments).

I even got a couple invitations WITH said saccharine sentiment on it.

And I didn't go to those weddings.

Why go to weddings of people who have no better sense than that, I say.


Anyway, the point of this is that the other night I was hanging out with my REAL best friend. We were doing shots, and absolutely cracking up. Connecting the way you actually DO with your friends, telling each other stuff that you only tell your friends with our faces and sides hurting from laughing so much. There was beer, and music and we played video games and we just had the best time. It'd been so long since I had hung out with a friend like that, just reveling in the joy of being together, I had forgotten what it was like.


The point though, is this.


I was with my husband. I turned into one of those people after all.


Apparently, I'm also going to have to start collecting bobbin head people now.


Crap. I hate those things.

Tuesday, November 27, 2007

Coats and Carseats

So my children have their first winter coats.
Which is an interesting thing to me.
My children have never had winter coats.
We had jackets, yes.
But never COATS.

So first off, thanks to Aunt April.

Second, How the F#$% do you get them in their CARSEATS with SAID COATS on?

I need to know! This is not a drill.
I mean,it's retarded to take their coats OFF and then put them back ON before they get out. And it's a pain in the ass. Do you just smooosh them in and make them fit?
Do you only put the coats on when you are really getting out of the car permanently but not bother with them for quick jaunts point A to point B?

Right now, we're opting to take them on and off as necessary but......this doesn't seem practical. How do all of you who are accustomed to the winter climate handle this?

Coats and Carseats

So my children have their first winter coats.
Which is an interesting thing to me.
My children have never had winter coats.
We had jackets, yes.
But never COATS.

So first off, thanks to Aunt April.

Second, How the F#$% do you get them in their CARSEATS with SAID COATS on?

I need to know! This is not a drill.
I mean,it's retarded to take their coats OFF and then put them back ON before they get out. And it's a pain in the ass. Do you just smooosh them in and make them fit?
Do you only put the coats on when you are really getting out of the car permanently but not bother with them for quick jaunts point A to point B?

Right now, we're opting to take them on and off as necessary but......this doesn't seem practical. How do all of you who are accustomed to the winter climate handle this?

Saturday, November 24, 2007

A Non-Family Friendly Thanksgiving Photo

Turkey neck? Or.....

A Non-Family Friendly Thanksgiving Photo

Turkey neck? Or.....

Wednesday, November 21, 2007

Today I am Thankful...

For the three big chunks that were stolen out of the side of the angel food cake I made for tomorrow's feast. They were pulled out by a three year old that couldn't wait one more second for a bite, who didn't realize that the cake had to be iced, and that it was for tomorrow.
For the GeoTrax layout taking up 1/3 of my living room, carefully planned by the five year old.
For the stool in the bathroom, which the other three year old drags up to the sink every day to sing some version of a beat box song that I'm blaming on Biz Markie. It goes something like "GO GO GO Pfffffffft".
For the feet that touch mine at night, for the leg thrown over my hip and the arm around my waist, that holds me close and keeps me protected in my dreams.

All the rest is gravy.

Today I am Thankful...

For the three big chunks that were stolen out of the side of the angel food cake I made for tomorrow's feast. They were pulled out by a three year old that couldn't wait one more second for a bite, who didn't realize that the cake had to be iced, and that it was for tomorrow.
For the GeoTrax layout taking up 1/3 of my living room, carefully planned by the five year old.
For the stool in the bathroom, which the other three year old drags up to the sink every day to sing some version of a beat box song that I'm blaming on Biz Markie. It goes something like "GO GO GO Pfffffffft".
For the feet that touch mine at night, for the leg thrown over my hip and the arm around my waist, that holds me close and keeps me protected in my dreams.

All the rest is gravy.

Sunday, November 18, 2007

I Can't I Can't I Can't Stand Losing.........

Okay so, here is what I learned last night.
The Police Rock.

And when I say that the Police ROCK, I mean......
OH MY GOD BECKY LOOK AT THE SIZE OF HER BUTT sort of expletive THEY FUCKING ROCK.

You forgot, didn't you?

I mean, I know I did. And I'm a fan. A huge fan. I own all the Police CDs. Hell, I also own them all on TAPE. But, having been too young to catch them when Sting let his ego take him to a different place (or why-ever they broke up), I never got to see them live.

What you forget is that before the 16th Century Lute Music.......there was CAN'T STAND LOSING YOU which SHOOK THE RAFTERS of Philips Arena. I never imagined that the somewhat whiney New Wave Pop of THE POLICE would completely rock out. It was unlike ANY rock show I've ever seen. Maybe because it was a dream come true. I can say that it wasn't the most perfect Rock Show ever, but it was without a doubt the best one I've ever seen.

Before the show, the husband and I stepped into the SoBar tapas bar for a light dinner. Here you see me enjoying the jerk chicken. And the husband has an Ahi Tuna Taco

The food was really fantastic but umm, a note to the proprietors of SoBar. If I am eating your fancy good, I do not want damn Budweiser to drink. Stock some decent beer for god's sake.
And, our babysitter was like Mary Poppins. Board games, milkshakes and fun was had and apparently the little ones didn't miss us at all........well, I like to think they missed us a little. But considering we're a family who previously flew my MOM to Florida so we could go see WICKED, I'm amazed at the luck we had. She was truly wonderful. Not to be confused with Truley Scrumptious as that is a different movie.

I Can't I Can't I Can't Stand Losing.........

Okay so, here is what I learned last night.
The Police Rock.

And when I say that the Police ROCK, I mean......
OH MY GOD BECKY LOOK AT THE SIZE OF HER BUTT sort of expletive THEY FUCKING ROCK.

You forgot, didn't you?

I mean, I know I did. And I'm a fan. A huge fan. I own all the Police CDs. Hell, I also own them all on TAPE. But, having been too young to catch them when Sting let his ego take him to a different place (or why-ever they broke up), I never got to see them live.

What you forget is that before the 16th Century Lute Music.......there was CAN'T STAND LOSING YOU which SHOOK THE RAFTERS of Philips Arena. I never imagined that the somewhat whiney New Wave Pop of THE POLICE would completely rock out. It was unlike ANY rock show I've ever seen. Maybe because it was a dream come true. I can say that it wasn't the most perfect Rock Show ever, but it was without a doubt the best one I've ever seen.

Before the show, the husband and I stepped into the SoBar tapas bar for a light dinner. Here you see me enjoying the jerk chicken. And the husband has an Ahi Tuna Taco

The food was really fantastic but umm, a note to the proprietors of SoBar. If I am eating your fancy good, I do not want damn Budweiser to drink. Stock some decent beer for god's sake.
And, our babysitter was like Mary Poppins. Board games, milkshakes and fun was had and apparently the little ones didn't miss us at all........well, I like to think they missed us a little. But considering we're a family who previously flew my MOM to Florida so we could go see WICKED, I'm amazed at the luck we had. She was truly wonderful. Not to be confused with Truley Scrumptious as that is a different movie.

Saturday, November 17, 2007

Ladies and Gentlemen THE POLICE!!

Yeah, 2nite.
The Police.
In the ATL.

I will see you suckaz TOMORROW! WOOOOT!

(Thanks again to the Husband for getting me Tix to my favorite band of ALL TIME!)

Ladies and Gentlemen THE POLICE!!

Yeah, 2nite.
The Police.
In the ATL.

I will see you suckaz TOMORROW! WOOOOT!

(Thanks again to the Husband for getting me Tix to my favorite band of ALL TIME!)

Friday, November 16, 2007

Cheesy Snowman

Okay the hits have started again for the Martha Stewart Cheeseball Snowman....so here it is. Truly one of the coolest things ever - and MY HUSBAND made it for the Twins Club Christmas Party we hosted last year.
Yeah he rocks.
Go on. You know you want to make it. Here are the instructions.

Cheesy Snowman

Okay the hits have started again for the Martha Stewart Cheeseball Snowman....so here it is. Truly one of the coolest things ever - and MY HUSBAND made it for the Twins Club Christmas Party we hosted last year.
Yeah he rocks.
Go on. You know you want to make it. Here are the instructions.

Wednesday, November 14, 2007

The Difference Between Martyrdom and Suicide is Press Coverage

"Sit tight I'm gonna need you to keep time just snap snap snap snap your fingers...."
I'm singing.
Loudly.
Because I'm nervous.
At least I was last night.
You probably remember that I have the getting lost fear/anxiety. I've added the fear of meeting new people to it. I don't know why.
So in my car I am gripped with anxiety last night, on my way to the local twins club meeting.
I wanted to go. I even knew where it was. I'd been once before several months ago. I needed to go. I need to meet people here. Yet, even getting in my car after work made me want to jump out of my skin in a total freak out.
So I'm driving.
I've put in my stress music - the SNAKES ON A PLANE SOUNDTRACK.
Track two by Panic in the Disco - and I'm SINGING. Loudly.
Driving down the Georgia highway, on my way to the town next to mine where I will walk into a room full of strangers and pretend like I belong.

When I get there, it doesn't go so well at first. I've messed up. I was supposed to see person X at the entrance who was supposed to give me a table assignment.......but I did see person X however she just stared at me as I walked by and I didn't know who she was so I just kept going.
Once everyone gets over me having completely destroyed their well laid plan of table assignment I'm found a seat.

So I sit there.

And wait.

The room is full of people that seem to know each other.
"Good good now we're making some progress just tap tap tap your toes to the beat" I'm singing in my head. I sit and read the notices on the table. I look at my purse calendar. And wait.

Finally other people start sitting down.

And there is food served.

And we start talking.

And things start to get better. We tell stories. We eat and talk about the food. We tell more stories. I meet another blogger. People are nice. I start to relax. We're having fun and cracking up. Then it' s over.

I drive home and miss Sarah. If I hadn't moved away also, I'd be unbelievably pissed off at her for moving away herself.

The Difference Between Martyrdom and Suicide is Press Coverage

"Sit tight I'm gonna need you to keep time just snap snap snap snap your fingers...."
I'm singing.
Loudly.
Because I'm nervous.
At least I was last night.
You probably remember that I have the getting lost fear/anxiety. I've added the fear of meeting new people to it. I don't know why.
So in my car I am gripped with anxiety last night, on my way to the local twins club meeting.
I wanted to go. I even knew where it was. I'd been once before several months ago. I needed to go. I need to meet people here. Yet, even getting in my car after work made me want to jump out of my skin in a total freak out.
So I'm driving.
I've put in my stress music - the SNAKES ON A PLANE SOUNDTRACK.
Track two by Panic in the Disco - and I'm SINGING. Loudly.
Driving down the Georgia highway, on my way to the town next to mine where I will walk into a room full of strangers and pretend like I belong.

When I get there, it doesn't go so well at first. I've messed up. I was supposed to see person X at the entrance who was supposed to give me a table assignment.......but I did see person X however she just stared at me as I walked by and I didn't know who she was so I just kept going.
Once everyone gets over me having completely destroyed their well laid plan of table assignment I'm found a seat.

So I sit there.

And wait.

The room is full of people that seem to know each other.
"Good good now we're making some progress just tap tap tap your toes to the beat" I'm singing in my head. I sit and read the notices on the table. I look at my purse calendar. And wait.

Finally other people start sitting down.

And there is food served.

And we start talking.

And things start to get better. We tell stories. We eat and talk about the food. We tell more stories. I meet another blogger. People are nice. I start to relax. We're having fun and cracking up. Then it' s over.

I drive home and miss Sarah. If I hadn't moved away also, I'd be unbelievably pissed off at her for moving away herself.

Tuesday, November 13, 2007

But I Will Always Be Her Baby

Happy Birthday to the woman who always told me that I might not always be her little girl, but that I would always be her baby.
I love you mommy.

Those are possibly some of the best words anyone ever said to me.

But I Will Always Be Her Baby

Happy Birthday to the woman who always told me that I might not always be her little girl, but that I would always be her baby.
I love you mommy.

Those are possibly some of the best words anyone ever said to me.

Sunday, November 11, 2007

The Busy Weekend

It's been a busy weekend at the old homestead. Saturday we went to a model train show - and if you haven't been to one of these - wear your comfortable shoes. There is a lot of walking around, looking and watching. It was fun though, watching my little guy get to run an O scale train.
They had a completely cool Lego train construct, which if it didn't have 1000 little pieces I could completely support. My favorite piece of the lay out? Was this! That's my Midwestern upbringing coming through. That shit is hilarious. The boys didn't think it was as funny as I did, however. They were more into this monorail part of the layout. It was a fun day for little boys, and big boys too. On Sunday the friend I've known longer than any other, known affectionately as Fresdo came to visit. There is nothing better than falling right back into step with someone who truly is your longest term bestest friend. One of my favorite but not BEST Fred stories from back in the day, which we told the husband, was that we went to see Beaches when it was first released.

And broke out into hysterical laughter at the end when Barbara Hershey died, and laughed out asses off. People actually SAID stuff to us, and we laughed harder........Fred screaming "I'm gonna pee STOP!" and he fell DOWN outside he was laughing so hard, both of us nearly peeing our pants.


Yeah.


Not much has changed.


After coffee and visiting at the house (our first visitor since we moved to the ATL - we actually had to learn how the visitors keypad at the gate worked) we went out to lunch to our favorite kitschy diner and then Freddie zipped back to Houston to his life of carefree abandon. (I like to think of it that way anyway.) Lil Satchmo was so enamored of Uncle Fred he suggested that Uncle Fred stay for several days next time. I agree Uncle Fred - it was GREAT to see you!


When Fred went down the the airport we also headed into the ATL and went to the Fernbank museum to see the frog exhibit. We met this guy. I tried to get a couple of pics of those bad ass Amazon Poison Dart Frogs, because they had enough to take out the entire population of the perimeter, but alas all those pics came out fuzzy.


And we saw a Frog puppet show.

All in all, it was a great family weekend.

The Busy Weekend

It's been a busy weekend at the old homestead. Saturday we went to a model train show - and if you haven't been to one of these - wear your comfortable shoes. There is a lot of walking around, looking and watching. It was fun though, watching my little guy get to run an O scale train.
They had a completely cool Lego train construct, which if it didn't have 1000 little pieces I could completely support. My favorite piece of the lay out? Was this! That's my Midwestern upbringing coming through. That shit is hilarious. The boys didn't think it was as funny as I did, however. They were more into this monorail part of the layout. It was a fun day for little boys, and big boys too. On Sunday the friend I've known longer than any other, known affectionately as Fresdo came to visit. There is nothing better than falling right back into step with someone who truly is your longest term bestest friend. One of my favorite but not BEST Fred stories from back in the day, which we told the husband, was that we went to see Beaches when it was first released.

And broke out into hysterical laughter at the end when Barbara Hershey died, and laughed out asses off. People actually SAID stuff to us, and we laughed harder........Fred screaming "I'm gonna pee STOP!" and he fell DOWN outside he was laughing so hard, both of us nearly peeing our pants.


Yeah.


Not much has changed.


After coffee and visiting at the house (our first visitor since we moved to the ATL - we actually had to learn how the visitors keypad at the gate worked) we went out to lunch to our favorite kitschy diner and then Freddie zipped back to Houston to his life of carefree abandon. (I like to think of it that way anyway.) Lil Satchmo was so enamored of Uncle Fred he suggested that Uncle Fred stay for several days next time. I agree Uncle Fred - it was GREAT to see you!


When Fred went down the the airport we also headed into the ATL and went to the Fernbank museum to see the frog exhibit. We met this guy. I tried to get a couple of pics of those bad ass Amazon Poison Dart Frogs, because they had enough to take out the entire population of the perimeter, but alas all those pics came out fuzzy.


And we saw a Frog puppet show.

All in all, it was a great family weekend.

Saturday, November 10, 2007

In Case You Weren't Sure Who All Those People in the Billy Joel Song ARE.....

This guy has created something to help you.

Just a little nugget for your Saturday Night.

In Case You Weren't Sure Who All Those People in the Billy Joel Song ARE.....

This guy has created something to help you.

Just a little nugget for your Saturday Night.

Friday, November 09, 2007

With My Pantyhose and My Breakfast In My Purse

If you know me in Real Life, you know that I have a tendency to be a little scattered. I'm always doing too many things at once, working too fast, running from here to there. My trips out the door to go to work are not casual graceful events but instead consist of me running from room to room snatching every thing I've missed. This is how I ended up running out the door the other morning, with my pantyhose and my breakfast stuck into my gaping open purse.

I can get things done, but they're haphazardly done and probably look like chaos as they're in progress. But the end result is usually OK.

But I was remembering, with a giggle, as I went running out of the door - pantyhose and breakfast in purse - about a Thanksgiving a few years ago.

The company I worked for was cooking a big Thanksgiving dinner for all the employees. We'd had the turkeys brought in from Honey Baked Ham - but we were actually cooking most of the sides, the exceptions being stuff people brought in hot from home. My good friend Renee was coordinating the company wide feast and I was helping her. We were fortunate that we had two REAL kitchens there, and could actually heat stuff up/cook it and send it out to the tables as people's lunch times rolled around. It was a pain in the ass, but it was also really fun.

My mission, take items out of the fridge and stick'em in the oven/on the stove top to heat up and then get someone to carry them out to the tables. Cook everything in the fridges - that was my direction. There had been signs on the fridges for two days telling people not to use these particular refrigerators because they were full of food for the company Thanksgiving dinner.

One of the things I also tend to be, when on a mission, is single minded.

Take items out of the fridge, cook them.

I embraced this mantra fully.

And cooked!

About halfway through the day, someone from the advertising department rolls into the kitchen, opens the fridge and says "Where is the dinner for the homeless family?"

Ummmmmm.

What?

Seems that the artsy types from advertising hadn't heeded the signs on the Fridge. They had thought that I would divine that their carefully packaged but unlabeled dinner purchased for a homeless family would escape my fervor to cook everything in said fridges.

"But where is the ham?"

I pointed to the banquet table outside the door, and the half devoured ham.

And the horror began to be cried to heaven! "SHE COOKED THE HOMELESS FAMILY'S THANKSGIVING DINNER!"

It's a story that still gets told, the time I cooked that poor family's meal.
I don't really think it's my fault though. You'd think that people smart enough to be employed by the advertising department of a major corporation could also heed signage on a refrigerator door.

With My Pantyhose and My Breakfast In My Purse

If you know me in Real Life, you know that I have a tendency to be a little scattered. I'm always doing too many things at once, working too fast, running from here to there. My trips out the door to go to work are not casual graceful events but instead consist of me running from room to room snatching every thing I've missed. This is how I ended up running out the door the other morning, with my pantyhose and my breakfast stuck into my gaping open purse.

I can get things done, but they're haphazardly done and probably look like chaos as they're in progress. But the end result is usually OK.

But I was remembering, with a giggle, as I went running out of the door - pantyhose and breakfast in purse - about a Thanksgiving a few years ago.

The company I worked for was cooking a big Thanksgiving dinner for all the employees. We'd had the turkeys brought in from Honey Baked Ham - but we were actually cooking most of the sides, the exceptions being stuff people brought in hot from home. My good friend Renee was coordinating the company wide feast and I was helping her. We were fortunate that we had two REAL kitchens there, and could actually heat stuff up/cook it and send it out to the tables as people's lunch times rolled around. It was a pain in the ass, but it was also really fun.

My mission, take items out of the fridge and stick'em in the oven/on the stove top to heat up and then get someone to carry them out to the tables. Cook everything in the fridges - that was my direction. There had been signs on the fridges for two days telling people not to use these particular refrigerators because they were full of food for the company Thanksgiving dinner.

One of the things I also tend to be, when on a mission, is single minded.

Take items out of the fridge, cook them.

I embraced this mantra fully.

And cooked!

About halfway through the day, someone from the advertising department rolls into the kitchen, opens the fridge and says "Where is the dinner for the homeless family?"

Ummmmmm.

What?

Seems that the artsy types from advertising hadn't heeded the signs on the Fridge. They had thought that I would divine that their carefully packaged but unlabeled dinner purchased for a homeless family would escape my fervor to cook everything in said fridges.

"But where is the ham?"

I pointed to the banquet table outside the door, and the half devoured ham.

And the horror began to be cried to heaven! "SHE COOKED THE HOMELESS FAMILY'S THANKSGIVING DINNER!"

It's a story that still gets told, the time I cooked that poor family's meal.
I don't really think it's my fault though. You'd think that people smart enough to be employed by the advertising department of a major corporation could also heed signage on a refrigerator door.

Wednesday, November 07, 2007

A Real Man's Birthday

What do real men do for their birthday? How do the celebrate? Do they fish? Do they hunt? Do they climb a mountain alone to commune with nature? Do they eat dinner at an exclusive Men's Club, taking cigars and brandy with friends afterward?

Or......

Do they take the entire family on a trip......


to Chuck E Cheese?

Looks like they go to Chuck E Cheese.
And make their special day a special day for their entire family.

The Force is Strong In This One.

Also - run don't walk over the Props and Pans where we are giving away a Kodak Easy Share! Click on this link - and just leave a comment between now and Nov 18!