A Mommy Blog About Raising Men, Not Boys.
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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!

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!

Tuesday, November 06, 2007

Happy Birthday Baby!

Today is the birthday of the father of my children, the man whose feet I touch at night, the one I love.

I baked an angel food cake in the spirit of my grandmother and today we'll celebrate his birthday at a secret restaurant of his choosing. But he doesn't get "the day off". There will still be breakfast to serve, poopie diapers to change, toy battles to referee.

Yes he'll be in his office, like most of us who work, and not getting to relax the way some do. So stop by on your coffee break and say Happy Birthday. I'm sure he'll take a moment to read the comment, on his.



Happy Birthday Baby!

Today is the birthday of the father of my children, the man whose feet I touch at night, the one I love.

I baked an angel food cake in the spirit of my grandmother and today we'll celebrate his birthday at a secret restaurant of his choosing. But he doesn't get "the day off". There will still be breakfast to serve, poopie diapers to change, toy battles to referee.

Yes he'll be in his office, like most of us who work, and not getting to relax the way some do. So stop by on your coffee break and say Happy Birthday. I'm sure he'll take a moment to read the comment, on his.



Sunday, November 04, 2007

Melting Butter Between My Thighs

When I was a 20 something who went to work in tight sweaters and short skirts I used to eat lunch several times a week with the guys in my IT department. It was so long ago we didn't call it IT. We called it MIS - which stood for Management Information Systems - and they programmed the mainframe. It was so long ago, that we'd discuss the upcoming Y2K - that they were working on a couple of years before the big event.
We used to go to this one Italian place at least once a week, called Iaria's. The boys would religiously eat chicken parmigiana and I'd have chicken fettuccine Alfredo. To start the meal, they'd bring around baskets full of warm soft bread and pats of butter.
Except the butter was always ice cold. So when you spread it - it would just tear the CRAP out of the delicate bread.
At some point, I realized that I really wanted the bread and I really wanted nice smooth butter on it - so I took to taking a pat of butter as soon as I sat down, and put it between my thighs.

Inconspicuously - (and it was the kind of butter in a little tub, not wrapped up in foil) - I'd walk in grab a pat of butter as I sat down at the table and hide it as the boys were sitting down, getting settled, gabbing about the menu and pretending they were NOT going to order the chicken parmigiana. They'd gab and gab and as the waitress deposited our basket of bread I'd take my now melty butter and spread it across the warm bread.

It's weird how you remember things like that, because I hadn't thought of it at all in years, until yesterday. Sitting at the Cracker Barrel in the din of breakfast eaters with my little monsters around me I picked up a pat of butter that was ice cold.

Despite the warm smell of the fire, the breakfast dishes clanging and the steam coming off my coffee, I thought of the guys from MIS and their chicken parmigiana. And the fact that I had miniskirts I actually wore to work, and that I'd sit and listen to them talk almost nonstop at lunch just absorbing the guy-ness of them.
Guys talk differently. I liked to listen to them, like a fly on the wall, like a decoration at their man-lunch time. Sitting quietly, having a coke (I didn't have to order diet coke or iced tea when out to lunch with guys, guys don't CARE what you drink for lunch, there is no beverage peer pressure). They'd talk about football and basketball and work gossip and I'd sit there and interject infrequently, listening intently. Guys gossip differently. They don't chew over the details of the event - exacting karmic payback about whomever they were discussing the way women can. Guys gossip, but they just TELL it. Fact or fiction, they just tell it.

It's different, they way they communicate. There is no nuance, no shade of meaning hidden behind the story. Guys just communicate outwardly without secret agenda.
It's sort of nice.

I look around my breakfast table, as I spread the apple butter on a biscuit and consider the 4 males around me. I haven't changed my dining companions. I still like to sit at a table surrounded by boys.

Melting Butter Between My Thighs

When I was a 20 something who went to work in tight sweaters and short skirts I used to eat lunch several times a week with the guys in my IT department. It was so long ago we didn't call it IT. We called it MIS - which stood for Management Information Systems - and they programmed the mainframe. It was so long ago, that we'd discuss the upcoming Y2K - that they were working on a couple of years before the big event.
We used to go to this one Italian place at least once a week, called Iaria's. The boys would religiously eat chicken parmigiana and I'd have chicken fettuccine Alfredo. To start the meal, they'd bring around baskets full of warm soft bread and pats of butter.
Except the butter was always ice cold. So when you spread it - it would just tear the CRAP out of the delicate bread.
At some point, I realized that I really wanted the bread and I really wanted nice smooth butter on it - so I took to taking a pat of butter as soon as I sat down, and put it between my thighs.

Inconspicuously - (and it was the kind of butter in a little tub, not wrapped up in foil) - I'd walk in grab a pat of butter as I sat down at the table and hide it as the boys were sitting down, getting settled, gabbing about the menu and pretending they were NOT going to order the chicken parmigiana. They'd gab and gab and as the waitress deposited our basket of bread I'd take my now melty butter and spread it across the warm bread.

It's weird how you remember things like that, because I hadn't thought of it at all in years, until yesterday. Sitting at the Cracker Barrel in the din of breakfast eaters with my little monsters around me I picked up a pat of butter that was ice cold.

Despite the warm smell of the fire, the breakfast dishes clanging and the steam coming off my coffee, I thought of the guys from MIS and their chicken parmigiana. And the fact that I had miniskirts I actually wore to work, and that I'd sit and listen to them talk almost nonstop at lunch just absorbing the guy-ness of them.
Guys talk differently. I liked to listen to them, like a fly on the wall, like a decoration at their man-lunch time. Sitting quietly, having a coke (I didn't have to order diet coke or iced tea when out to lunch with guys, guys don't CARE what you drink for lunch, there is no beverage peer pressure). They'd talk about football and basketball and work gossip and I'd sit there and interject infrequently, listening intently. Guys gossip differently. They don't chew over the details of the event - exacting karmic payback about whomever they were discussing the way women can. Guys gossip, but they just TELL it. Fact or fiction, they just tell it.

It's different, they way they communicate. There is no nuance, no shade of meaning hidden behind the story. Guys just communicate outwardly without secret agenda.
It's sort of nice.

I look around my breakfast table, as I spread the apple butter on a biscuit and consider the 4 males around me. I haven't changed my dining companions. I still like to sit at a table surrounded by boys.

Friday, November 02, 2007

More Halloweenie Stuff

Okay I'm still recapping the Halloween stuff.......we do a LOT OF STUFF PEOPLE!

First of all.......my BIG pumpkin this year was not just a pumpkin, I learned as I went to slay it.





It was in fact, a biosphere, growing it's own pumpkins INSIDE of itself. Anyone ever HEARD of this? Seriously, seeds had sprouted inside the pumpkin and there were VINES of pumpkin plant growing.......as shown here.

And I tell you something else, that bitch Martha Stewart might say that the different colored pumpkins are so chic this year, but clearly she didn't have to gut and CARVE the damn things. They were full of goo and guts like you would not believe. I carved and destroyed the 80 pound biosphere pumpkin in the less time than it took me to gut and carve EACH little fancy pumpkin.
But they looked cool.

In keeping with the family tradition, the boys also painted pumpkins so we had the combo thing going on.
Painting pumpkins is a big family tradition in this house that we've been doing since before there were little people to share it with, and I'm enjoying that the boys seem to like it too.
Darth Vader and the Clone Troopers cleaned up on Halloween night - to be sure. The second to the last house we went to was DONE for the nigh - and dumped all the rest of their candy on us. WOOHOO!

Holidays just seem to mean more, with these little rugrats around. Even with silly commercial events like Halloween, the family time that we create to do the special things together makes me so sentimental. And when I tuck Lil Satchmo into bed, and he tells me "This was the best Halloween I ever had." I get all weepy and emotional.

Now, someone explain to me why the black icing from my Haunted Gingerbread House made green poop.

More Halloweenie Stuff

Okay I'm still recapping the Halloween stuff.......we do a LOT OF STUFF PEOPLE!

First of all.......my BIG pumpkin this year was not just a pumpkin, I learned as I went to slay it.





It was in fact, a biosphere, growing it's own pumpkins INSIDE of itself. Anyone ever HEARD of this? Seriously, seeds had sprouted inside the pumpkin and there were VINES of pumpkin plant growing.......as shown here.

And I tell you something else, that bitch Martha Stewart might say that the different colored pumpkins are so chic this year, but clearly she didn't have to gut and CARVE the damn things. They were full of goo and guts like you would not believe. I carved and destroyed the 80 pound biosphere pumpkin in the less time than it took me to gut and carve EACH little fancy pumpkin.
But they looked cool.

In keeping with the family tradition, the boys also painted pumpkins so we had the combo thing going on.
Painting pumpkins is a big family tradition in this house that we've been doing since before there were little people to share it with, and I'm enjoying that the boys seem to like it too.
Darth Vader and the Clone Troopers cleaned up on Halloween night - to be sure. The second to the last house we went to was DONE for the nigh - and dumped all the rest of their candy on us. WOOHOO!

Holidays just seem to mean more, with these little rugrats around. Even with silly commercial events like Halloween, the family time that we create to do the special things together makes me so sentimental. And when I tuck Lil Satchmo into bed, and he tells me "This was the best Halloween I ever had." I get all weepy and emotional.

Now, someone explain to me why the black icing from my Haunted Gingerbread House made green poop.