A Mommy Blog About Raising Men, Not Boys.
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Saturday, May 31, 2008

Buzz Lightyear - To Infinity......or Just Up to the Space Station

Still kinda cool though.
Didja know they were taking him up today?

How jaded am I with technology that I say the words "Just Up To the Space Station" and don't even think twice?

Do you remember when the space shuttle was a dream? When it was in your weekly reader at school - that SOME DAY we'd have this new kind of space craft that would take off like a rocket and land like and airplane? That SOME day we'd have a SPACE STATION!

It seemed, then, that those things would happen about the same time as the flying cars and us all living in domes. I'll pass on the dome - but with the Atlanta traffic I'll take one of those flying cars any time.

Buzz Lightyear - To Infinity......or Just Up to the Space Station

Still kinda cool though.
Didja know they were taking him up today?

How jaded am I with technology that I say the words "Just Up To the Space Station" and don't even think twice?

Do you remember when the space shuttle was a dream? When it was in your weekly reader at school - that SOME DAY we'd have this new kind of space craft that would take off like a rocket and land like and airplane? That SOME day we'd have a SPACE STATION!

It seemed, then, that those things would happen about the same time as the flying cars and us all living in domes. I'll pass on the dome - but with the Atlanta traffic I'll take one of those flying cars any time.

Friday, May 30, 2008

Pure Energy

When I was in 7th grade my parents moved to the city from a small town. This move took place in the middle of the school year, in the most awkward phase of life - middle school. My adjustment was hard. I didn't take to the new place well at all. I came home from school every day and cried and for the first time in my life never wanted to go to school in the morning. In short - it sucked.



By the time 8th grade had come around I had a passing degree of friendship with some girls who lived in my neighborhood and rode my bus. Plus I knew some people in the band. Not the kind of superfly tight "I've known this person since kindergarten" friendship - but still, it was better than 7th grade for sure.



One of the people I knew in 8th grade band was a sweet girl named Margie. She was rosie cheeked and prone to giggle, I never really spent time with her but always liked her from a distance. EVERYONE liked Margie from what I could tell. You can imagine my delight when, in the winter of my 8th grade year, I was invited to her Christmas party. I hadn't really been invited much of anywhere since we moved and I knew a few people who were going so I accepted.



My memory of this party is very rose colored, to be sure. I remember her beautifully decorated house, bursting with Christmas goodness. I remember that we played games, and made some sort of craft, and that the best part of the evening was that we went caroling. Really went caroling, like in the movies - with little books of carols, and neighbors coming out to give us hot cider or hot chocolate while snow fell in big flakes.



Was it that beautiful?

Was it that perfect?



Probably not.



But it felt that perfect. I felt included, like I belonged again. And it changed my life in my new place. I made friends, GIRLS, who were then people I knew at school. It made school tolerable and then fun again. It was one perfect night that made such a difference to me.



I doubt I ever properly thanked her or appreciated it at the time. We went our ways after graduation, she went to Wheaton if memory serves. She eventually got married, had some kids, lived quietly elsewhere and I'd hear the occasional thing about her here and there. Margie got married etc.



I would like to pay her back in kind, to send her such a feeling of being welcome and valued. To show her what a difference she made in one little girls life so long ago.



This week, Margie's husband died.



We are too young, any of us, to be widows yet.



As I cannot be there to say how sorry I am, to express myself articulately to someone I have not seen in over 20 years, all I can send to her are my good thoughts and my love.



I send them with all my heart, on a wave of pure energy.



If you remember Margie and would like to sign her families guest book from the Hultgren Funeral Home click here.

Pure Energy

When I was in 7th grade my parents moved to the city from a small town. This move took place in the middle of the school year, in the most awkward phase of life - middle school. My adjustment was hard. I didn't take to the new place well at all. I came home from school every day and cried and for the first time in my life never wanted to go to school in the morning. In short - it sucked.



By the time 8th grade had come around I had a passing degree of friendship with some girls who lived in my neighborhood and rode my bus. Plus I knew some people in the band. Not the kind of superfly tight "I've known this person since kindergarten" friendship - but still, it was better than 7th grade for sure.



One of the people I knew in 8th grade band was a sweet girl named Margie. She was rosie cheeked and prone to giggle, I never really spent time with her but always liked her from a distance. EVERYONE liked Margie from what I could tell. You can imagine my delight when, in the winter of my 8th grade year, I was invited to her Christmas party. I hadn't really been invited much of anywhere since we moved and I knew a few people who were going so I accepted.



My memory of this party is very rose colored, to be sure. I remember her beautifully decorated house, bursting with Christmas goodness. I remember that we played games, and made some sort of craft, and that the best part of the evening was that we went caroling. Really went caroling, like in the movies - with little books of carols, and neighbors coming out to give us hot cider or hot chocolate while snow fell in big flakes.



Was it that beautiful?

Was it that perfect?



Probably not.



But it felt that perfect. I felt included, like I belonged again. And it changed my life in my new place. I made friends, GIRLS, who were then people I knew at school. It made school tolerable and then fun again. It was one perfect night that made such a difference to me.



I doubt I ever properly thanked her or appreciated it at the time. We went our ways after graduation, she went to Wheaton if memory serves. She eventually got married, had some kids, lived quietly elsewhere and I'd hear the occasional thing about her here and there. Margie got married etc.



I would like to pay her back in kind, to send her such a feeling of being welcome and valued. To show her what a difference she made in one little girls life so long ago.



This week, Margie's husband died.



We are too young, any of us, to be widows yet.



As I cannot be there to say how sorry I am, to express myself articulately to someone I have not seen in over 20 years, all I can send to her are my good thoughts and my love.



I send them with all my heart, on a wave of pure energy.



If you remember Margie and would like to sign her families guest book from the Hultgren Funeral Home click here.

Thursday, May 29, 2008

Requiem For a Dream

Okay that's a BIT dramatic.


But this house.....




Which is quite lovely inside.

And looks like THIS in the backyard...
Well it also looked like THIS at the backdoor.
Right - it has been broken into. And the sellers agent would have been aware of it as they had REPLACED the door handle but not the deadbolt which they left hanging in it's hole all jacked up. How do I know this?
Take a look. There is the OLD doorknob on the ground.
Who the hell knows what ELSE is wrong if they couldn't do us the courtesy of telling us the house was vandalized?
We've rescinded the offer and go back to the drawing board on the the house hunt.

The house was also really close to a power substation and I read enough about EMFs and the "possible" link to cancer (suspiciously the EPA just doesn't think this is much of a problem) that I was just uneasy about the whole thing.

The Adventure begins again.

Requiem For a Dream

Okay that's a BIT dramatic.


But this house.....




Which is quite lovely inside.

And looks like THIS in the backyard...
Well it also looked like THIS at the backdoor.
Right - it has been broken into. And the sellers agent would have been aware of it as they had REPLACED the door handle but not the deadbolt which they left hanging in it's hole all jacked up. How do I know this?
Take a look. There is the OLD doorknob on the ground.
Who the hell knows what ELSE is wrong if they couldn't do us the courtesy of telling us the house was vandalized?
We've rescinded the offer and go back to the drawing board on the the house hunt.

The house was also really close to a power substation and I read enough about EMFs and the "possible" link to cancer (suspiciously the EPA just doesn't think this is much of a problem) that I was just uneasy about the whole thing.

The Adventure begins again.

Tuesday, May 27, 2008

Some Dream Interpretation Required

This morning I dreamed that my husband was furious with Fred Schneider, from the B52s.
We had bought tickets to see the B52s on tour, and the tickets read "With Super Special VIP Guest Star FRED SCHNEIDER."

My husband was ranting about it, in my dream. About what a dick Fred Schneider was for pretending to be SOO much better than the rest of the band.

And then we ran into Fred in downtown Atlanta one day. He was clad in an orange and pink suit.

And my husband ran up to him and WENT OFF. Telling off Fred Schneider in a style that was nearly wicked, he really gave him what for.

Poor Fred. He didn't even see us coming.

Some Dream Interpretation Required

This morning I dreamed that my husband was furious with Fred Schneider, from the B52s.
We had bought tickets to see the B52s on tour, and the tickets read "With Super Special VIP Guest Star FRED SCHNEIDER."

My husband was ranting about it, in my dream. About what a dick Fred Schneider was for pretending to be SOO much better than the rest of the band.

And then we ran into Fred in downtown Atlanta one day. He was clad in an orange and pink suit.

And my husband ran up to him and WENT OFF. Telling off Fred Schneider in a style that was nearly wicked, he really gave him what for.

Poor Fred. He didn't even see us coming.

Monday, May 26, 2008

Memorial Marmalade

I have never been a jam or jelly person. At all. It probably stems from the fact that I'm just a picky eater and slathering something on an already perfect piece of buttered bread is just overkill to me. I like to appreciate flavors singly, as well. Not such a fan of a bunch of flavors all running together. So you can see how jam or jelly, regardless of it's tastiness, just has never really been my cup of tea.



Until recently.



We picked up some Fuzzy Navel jam at the Civil War and Rail museum gift shop. And it's pretty darn good. Each time we've had it on biscuits or toast with dinner, I've compulsively told my oldest boy the story of how much my Grandmother Drake loved orange marmalade. She was addicted to it. When I was really little, it was a big deal when people would return from Florida and bring her a jar or two. You couldn't get that stuff up north - back in the day. I tell it like it's important. I don't really know why, I just feel the need to tell it so I do.



This morning, on Memorial Day, I sat down at my computer to read the news and have a little toast before heading out to a friends cookout. After I buttered my toast - I looked into the fridge and saw the little jar waiting for me. So I put some on my toast and walked over here to the shiny metal box of diversions to read.



Looking at my toast, spread thin with butter and orangey/peachy shmear - I remembered my grandmother's breakfast toast at her formica table. There would also be a hunk of fresh honeycomb in a square ceramic pedestal dish - made specially FOR the honeycomb from her neighbors beehives. Sometimes, you'd find a squished bee in it. Your legs would stick to her vinyl covered chairs in the summer.



Eating breakfast at my grandma's house is one of the best memories of my childhood.



I guess I do know why I tell the marmalade story after all.



*I leave you with a picture of my twins at the cookout we went to today.



Yes, that tub is full of water.
Yes, Baby Birth of Cool HAS his shoes and socks on.


Good times.

Memorial Marmalade

I have never been a jam or jelly person. At all. It probably stems from the fact that I'm just a picky eater and slathering something on an already perfect piece of buttered bread is just overkill to me. I like to appreciate flavors singly, as well. Not such a fan of a bunch of flavors all running together. So you can see how jam or jelly, regardless of it's tastiness, just has never really been my cup of tea.



Until recently.



We picked up some Fuzzy Navel jam at the Civil War and Rail museum gift shop. And it's pretty darn good. Each time we've had it on biscuits or toast with dinner, I've compulsively told my oldest boy the story of how much my Grandmother Drake loved orange marmalade. She was addicted to it. When I was really little, it was a big deal when people would return from Florida and bring her a jar or two. You couldn't get that stuff up north - back in the day. I tell it like it's important. I don't really know why, I just feel the need to tell it so I do.



This morning, on Memorial Day, I sat down at my computer to read the news and have a little toast before heading out to a friends cookout. After I buttered my toast - I looked into the fridge and saw the little jar waiting for me. So I put some on my toast and walked over here to the shiny metal box of diversions to read.



Looking at my toast, spread thin with butter and orangey/peachy shmear - I remembered my grandmother's breakfast toast at her formica table. There would also be a hunk of fresh honeycomb in a square ceramic pedestal dish - made specially FOR the honeycomb from her neighbors beehives. Sometimes, you'd find a squished bee in it. Your legs would stick to her vinyl covered chairs in the summer.



Eating breakfast at my grandma's house is one of the best memories of my childhood.



I guess I do know why I tell the marmalade story after all.



*I leave you with a picture of my twins at the cookout we went to today.



Yes, that tub is full of water.
Yes, Baby Birth of Cool HAS his shoes and socks on.


Good times.

Friday, May 23, 2008

The Things We Overlook

At my last job, they acted like a bunch of dicks all the time when you wanted time off (ex. I missed 5.5 weeks of work when my twins were born. That's right - 5.5 weeks bcse I was worried about losing my job). You had to be at work 6 days a week even if that sixth day was spent having useless random meetings or sitting in your office looking busy.
Holidays, family birthdays etc were never about what days you got off - but how little you had to end up working.

I guess you just get used to stuff though, especially when they pay is good.

I never really realized what it was doing to my family though until last Thanksgiving. Lil Satchmo was floored - just FLOORED that I had 4 days off! 4 days? For Thanksgiving!?!? "Does your company know?" I assured him they did. "Do you have to use Vacation days?" No.

So now it's another holiday, a year later into my new job - and I've got a three day weekend.

He tells me last night as I'm tucking him in. "I think your new job is better. They let you have days off so you can snuggle with me in the mornings sometimes."

I think so too.

The Things We Overlook

At my last job, they acted like a bunch of dicks all the time when you wanted time off (ex. I missed 5.5 weeks of work when my twins were born. That's right - 5.5 weeks bcse I was worried about losing my job). You had to be at work 6 days a week even if that sixth day was spent having useless random meetings or sitting in your office looking busy.
Holidays, family birthdays etc were never about what days you got off - but how little you had to end up working.

I guess you just get used to stuff though, especially when they pay is good.

I never really realized what it was doing to my family though until last Thanksgiving. Lil Satchmo was floored - just FLOORED that I had 4 days off! 4 days? For Thanksgiving!?!? "Does your company know?" I assured him they did. "Do you have to use Vacation days?" No.

So now it's another holiday, a year later into my new job - and I've got a three day weekend.

He tells me last night as I'm tucking him in. "I think your new job is better. They let you have days off so you can snuggle with me in the mornings sometimes."

I think so too.

Wednesday, May 21, 2008

Do You Know The One

Where my friend Erin interviews the next President of The United States of America?

No?

Oh, it goes like this.

Yeah I'm fairly impressed too.

Do You Know The One

Where my friend Erin interviews the next President of The United States of America?

No?

Oh, it goes like this.

Yeah I'm fairly impressed too.

A History of Razor Blades

We've got a family tradition.
Take a small child.
And a sharp object.

Put them together and see what zany fun ensues!

When I was little, about a year old, I picked up a pop top from one of my dad's beers (remember pop tops?) and chewed it up until I had shredded the crap out of my gums. My mom was alerted by the blood rushing out of my mouth.

When my brother Matt was little we were getting ready to go out and we called "Matt where are you?" and he answered "Getting Ready!".
That sounded bad.........so we went to find him, and he was in the bathroom - shaving his face.

Dry.

This weekend I was taking a shower. I dutifully set the Mach 5 razor blade on the inside of the shampoo bottles on the ledge. I was washing my hair when a little blonde head poked around the shower curtain smiling. "Hi baby." I said to Baby Birdman and leaned my head back to rinse out the shampoo. I had a passing thought - RAZOR BLADE.

But no, he's 4. And it was on the inside of all the bottles. He wouldn't have seen it right?

I quickly rinse and look down - RAZOR BLADE GONE!

I yelled to The Husband - and sure enough - There was Baby Birdman.

Shaving his gums.

Yeah.

I assured The Husband it was ok.

It runs in the family.

** Addendum!

At least it wasn't one of these.

A History of Razor Blades

We've got a family tradition.
Take a small child.
And a sharp object.

Put them together and see what zany fun ensues!

When I was little, about a year old, I picked up a pop top from one of my dad's beers (remember pop tops?) and chewed it up until I had shredded the crap out of my gums. My mom was alerted by the blood rushing out of my mouth.

When my brother Matt was little we were getting ready to go out and we called "Matt where are you?" and he answered "Getting Ready!".
That sounded bad.........so we went to find him, and he was in the bathroom - shaving his face.

Dry.

This weekend I was taking a shower. I dutifully set the Mach 5 razor blade on the inside of the shampoo bottles on the ledge. I was washing my hair when a little blonde head poked around the shower curtain smiling. "Hi baby." I said to Baby Birdman and leaned my head back to rinse out the shampoo. I had a passing thought - RAZOR BLADE.

But no, he's 4. And it was on the inside of all the bottles. He wouldn't have seen it right?

I quickly rinse and look down - RAZOR BLADE GONE!

I yelled to The Husband - and sure enough - There was Baby Birdman.

Shaving his gums.

Yeah.

I assured The Husband it was ok.

It runs in the family.

** Addendum!

At least it wasn't one of these.

Tuesday, May 20, 2008

Baby Birdman Says Vote For David Cook



VOTE NOW DAMMIT!

Baby Birdman Says Vote For David Cook



VOTE NOW DAMMIT!

Monday, May 19, 2008

Am I the Only One Who Is Confused?

Whenever I hear about this.

I think they mean something to do with these folks?



Cuz see, I would WATCH that show.

Am I the Only One Who Is Confused?

Whenever I hear about this.

I think they mean something to do with these folks?



Cuz see, I would WATCH that show.

Sunday, May 18, 2008

Thwarted by Traffic in the ATL

Back in the day, when Atlanta was the LAST BIG CITY before FLA on the drive south to the beach, we'd play a game. Count the lanes. Atlanta has, for as long as I can remember, had a crazy-bad ass highway system and being from the north it was FUN when the highway would explode 10 lanes,then12 lanes then eventually 16 lanes wide.
It was novel.
Entertaining.
Now that I live here, I can't remember the last time I did that. I remember the wonder of it though, when I'm rolling south through the city but I no longer count.
It's still a wonder though.

You know what else it is?

It's powerful.

You see, if you have plans that involve driving through the city to south of Atlanta......and you have to drive THROUGH said city and THEY just happen to be doing construction. .........on oh 3 of 8 lanes on your side of the highway.....guess what.

Turn around.

Go home.

Because you are NOT getting through the city.

So for the second time our plans to go to the Renn Fair got thwarted by Atlanta. First time it was her weather. Second time it was her freaking highway construction crews.

I wonder what it will be next week?

Thwarted by Traffic in the ATL

Back in the day, when Atlanta was the LAST BIG CITY before FLA on the drive south to the beach, we'd play a game. Count the lanes. Atlanta has, for as long as I can remember, had a crazy-bad ass highway system and being from the north it was FUN when the highway would explode 10 lanes,then12 lanes then eventually 16 lanes wide.
It was novel.
Entertaining.
Now that I live here, I can't remember the last time I did that. I remember the wonder of it though, when I'm rolling south through the city but I no longer count.
It's still a wonder though.

You know what else it is?

It's powerful.

You see, if you have plans that involve driving through the city to south of Atlanta......and you have to drive THROUGH said city and THEY just happen to be doing construction. .........on oh 3 of 8 lanes on your side of the highway.....guess what.

Turn around.

Go home.

Because you are NOT getting through the city.

So for the second time our plans to go to the Renn Fair got thwarted by Atlanta. First time it was her weather. Second time it was her freaking highway construction crews.

I wonder what it will be next week?

Friday, May 16, 2008

Why Are No Donuts as Good As Roslyn's?

When I grew up in Indy, no pastry, donut or cake was as good as the one's you would get at Roslyn's. Forget it, everyone else in the world would pale by comparison. My first birthday cake came from there - a carousel with horses and extravagant piping. The "Alligator" a big danish for Saturday or Sunday breakfast that was lavish, was a huge treat. Napoleon's -the Hoosier version of Neapolitan's - always icy cold and sweet. And their donuts.
Oh, my God.
Their donuts.
Melt in your mouth, sweet but NOT TOO SWEET perfect every single time.

I miss them like crazy.

I bring this up, because the husband was just eating a grocery store donut and lamenting about how lame it is. How really NOT GOOD store bought donuts are.

The Roslyn's - and Indianapolis Institution for a billion years, well it turned out that the bakery where they did all their baking was covered in rat feces and other equally icky things. They got shut down HARD and have been gone a long time. I never got SICK eating Roslyn's though. Never. Not once.

Damn health inspectors.

So this begs the question then.

Where are the GOOD donuts in Atlanta. A Good, NON KRISPY KREME - NON DUNKIN' DONUTS yeast donut? Can I GET good donuts here?

Why Are No Donuts as Good As Roslyn's?

When I grew up in Indy, no pastry, donut or cake was as good as the one's you would get at Roslyn's. Forget it, everyone else in the world would pale by comparison. My first birthday cake came from there - a carousel with horses and extravagant piping. The "Alligator" a big danish for Saturday or Sunday breakfast that was lavish, was a huge treat. Napoleon's -the Hoosier version of Neapolitan's - always icy cold and sweet. And their donuts.
Oh, my God.
Their donuts.
Melt in your mouth, sweet but NOT TOO SWEET perfect every single time.

I miss them like crazy.

I bring this up, because the husband was just eating a grocery store donut and lamenting about how lame it is. How really NOT GOOD store bought donuts are.

The Roslyn's - and Indianapolis Institution for a billion years, well it turned out that the bakery where they did all their baking was covered in rat feces and other equally icky things. They got shut down HARD and have been gone a long time. I never got SICK eating Roslyn's though. Never. Not once.

Damn health inspectors.

So this begs the question then.

Where are the GOOD donuts in Atlanta. A Good, NON KRISPY KREME - NON DUNKIN' DONUTS yeast donut? Can I GET good donuts here?

Tuesday, May 13, 2008

Mother's Day for Train Lovers

I wanted to go to the Renn Fair this year for Mother's Day. But, Mother Nature had her own ideas and blew up a huge storm the night before and I was not inclined to roll around like one of the muddy beggars so that then begged the question (pardon the pun)what to do with ourselves for the day.
Mommy could do anything she wanted to do.

Anything in the world.

So then I have to decide. Do I choose ME and slumber the day away in Vicodin swaddled bliss (yeah I still have some left from the tooth extraction)? Do I choose to go somewhere with the clan that I'll like, and that they'll tolerate?

Or do I make a choice, that is guaranteed to make little boys run and laugh?
What do you think I chose?



A family day spending time with some civil war history and the best part of all TRAINS. Does it get any better?



I did add the mommy element to the trip to the museum by requiring we purchase jams as our souvenir. I figure that's the mom touch to the trip. Oh, and Peanut Brittle. Had to have peanut brittle. Cuz my butt isn't big enough.

We played in the playground outside which as far as I can tell, is the best entertainment on earth. Who knew, right?

Of course, this MIGHT have been the best part of the day for Lil Satchmo. What do you think?


It only gets better if you roll down to BBQ Kitchen by the ATL Airport for some excellent home cookin' people! That's right, no fancy Mother's Day Dinner with an annoying two hour wait.

Excellent diner food with the boys I love.


Best Mothers Day Ever.
Even with this.

No we don't know what the hell it is. It was at the playground.

Mother's Day for Train Lovers

I wanted to go to the Renn Fair this year for Mother's Day. But, Mother Nature had her own ideas and blew up a huge storm the night before and I was not inclined to roll around like one of the muddy beggars so that then begged the question (pardon the pun)what to do with ourselves for the day.
Mommy could do anything she wanted to do.

Anything in the world.

So then I have to decide. Do I choose ME and slumber the day away in Vicodin swaddled bliss (yeah I still have some left from the tooth extraction)? Do I choose to go somewhere with the clan that I'll like, and that they'll tolerate?

Or do I make a choice, that is guaranteed to make little boys run and laugh?
What do you think I chose?



A family day spending time with some civil war history and the best part of all TRAINS. Does it get any better?



I did add the mommy element to the trip to the museum by requiring we purchase jams as our souvenir. I figure that's the mom touch to the trip. Oh, and Peanut Brittle. Had to have peanut brittle. Cuz my butt isn't big enough.

We played in the playground outside which as far as I can tell, is the best entertainment on earth. Who knew, right?

Of course, this MIGHT have been the best part of the day for Lil Satchmo. What do you think?

video


It only gets better if you roll down to BBQ Kitchen by the ATL Airport for some excellent home cookin' people! That's right, no fancy Mother's Day Dinner with an annoying two hour wait.

Excellent diner food with the boys I love.


Best Mothers Day Ever.
Even with this.

No we don't know what the hell it is. It was at the playground.

Sunday, May 11, 2008

Because I Said So....Again

I'm not a lazy man, nor am I uncreative. Sometimes a man just has to realize that he has done the best that he can do. With that in mind, I did not even try to come up with anything different than last year's Mother's Day post (trust me, I did a lot of other nice things for today). Life still feels like this, so I hope that you can forgive me and re-read my thoughts on the Most Wonderful Mom in the World:

We have a guest posting today. Ladies and gentlemen, please put your hands together for Gidge's husband, Scott AKA Frank. Yeah!!!!!!!!


My mother, your mother. My grandmothers. Yours. My wife, your wife. Sisters, aunts. The women who made you who you are. The strong women. The beautiful women. Some are parents, some are not. All are mothers. Because mothers nurture and mothers give life. Because they care and they love without reservation. Because they are what I will never be. I honor you every day. But today know my special thanks, Happy Mother's Day and thank you from my heart.

I want to talk about the special mother in my life. No, not you, Mom. Sorry. You'll always be my mom and I could never replace what you mean to me but "mother" has gained a new definition for me in the last four and a half years. You folks know her as Gidge or maybe Bridgette. To me, she is Bunny, Bidgy, Princess, and My Little Flower. She's the mother of my children and the love of my life. My mother is June Cleaver with a cigarette. Bridgette is her antithesis. She doesn't smoke and she certainly is no June Cleaver. Cooking and cleaning? Nope, not Gidge. Those things are wonderful but that's not what mom should mean to you anyway. This is motherhood:

No, it's not always pretty. But it is always beautiful. It's half a slice of pie when you really wanted the whole thing. It's another story when you're too exhausted to think. It's taking care of someone when you've just puked for the fourth time. It's watching that stupid kid's show again when you hated it the first 117 times that you saw it. It's saying, "I love you so much" when all you really want to do is scream.

In 1802, Sir William Herschel defined a binary star as "a real double star, the union of two stars that are formed together in one system by the laws of attraction".


Two stars, locked together in love for all eternity. Sometimes stars support planets. This is our solar system:



Notice a common theme? It ain't gravity that holds this particular system together folks - it's Bidgy. And maybe, if we're lucky, our little system might just keep growing.

Happy Mother's Day Bunny. I love you dearly and you'll always be My Little Flower. Now you people get out there and tell the ladies in your life that you love them and be sure to wish them a Happy Mother's Day for me. Because I said so....

Because I Said So....Again

I'm not a lazy man, nor am I uncreative. Sometimes a man just has to realize that he has done the best that he can do. With that in mind, I did not even try to come up with anything different than last year's Mother's Day post (trust me, I did a lot of other nice things for today). Life still feels like this, so I hope that you can forgive me and re-read my thoughts on the Most Wonderful Mom in the World:

We have a guest posting today. Ladies and gentlemen, please put your hands together for Gidge's husband, Scott AKA Frank. Yeah!!!!!!!!


My mother, your mother. My grandmothers. Yours. My wife, your wife. Sisters, aunts. The women who made you who you are. The strong women. The beautiful women. Some are parents, some are not. All are mothers. Because mothers nurture and mothers give life. Because they care and they love without reservation. Because they are what I will never be. I honor you every day. But today know my special thanks, Happy Mother's Day and thank you from my heart.

I want to talk about the special mother in my life. No, not you, Mom. Sorry. You'll always be my mom and I could never replace what you mean to me but "mother" has gained a new definition for me in the last four and a half years. You folks know her as Gidge or maybe Bridgette. To me, she is Bunny, Bidgy, Princess, and My Little Flower. She's the mother of my children and the love of my life. My mother is June Cleaver with a cigarette. Bridgette is her antithesis. She doesn't smoke and she certainly is no June Cleaver. Cooking and cleaning? Nope, not Gidge. Those things are wonderful but that's not what mom should mean to you anyway. This is motherhood:

No, it's not always pretty. But it is always beautiful. It's half a slice of pie when you really wanted the whole thing. It's another story when you're too exhausted to think. It's taking care of someone when you've just puked for the fourth time. It's watching that stupid kid's show again when you hated it the first 117 times that you saw it. It's saying, "I love you so much" when all you really want to do is scream.

In 1802, Sir William Herschel defined a binary star as "a real double star, the union of two stars that are formed together in one system by the laws of attraction".


Two stars, locked together in love for all eternity. Sometimes stars support planets. This is our solar system:



Notice a common theme? It ain't gravity that holds this particular system together folks - it's Bidgy. And maybe, if we're lucky, our little system might just keep growing.

Happy Mother's Day Bunny. I love you dearly and you'll always be My Little Flower. Now you people get out there and tell the ladies in your life that you love them and be sure to wish them a Happy Mother's Day for me. Because I said so....

Saturday, May 10, 2008

The Pre-Mothers Day Chant



"Well that was your mother.
And that was your father.
Before you were born yeah.
When life was great.
Now you are the burden,
of my generation.
I sure do love you.
Let's get that straight."
- Paul Simon

The Pre-Mothers Day Chant



"Well that was your mother.
And that was your father.
Before you were born yeah.
When life was great.
Now you are the burden,
of my generation.
I sure do love you.
Let's get that straight."
- Paul Simon

Friday, May 09, 2008

Spider Pig, Spider Pig, Does Whatever a Spider Pig Does

This post is not about spider pig.


But I couldn't think of a title, and that song is stuck in my head because The Husband was singing it.


This post is about THIS.



We made an offer today. An official I-signed-about-12-pieces-of-paper offer.

And now..........we wait.

Wish us luck!

Spider Pig, Spider Pig, Does Whatever a Spider Pig Does

This post is not about spider pig.


But I couldn't think of a title, and that song is stuck in my head because The Husband was singing it.


This post is about THIS.



We made an offer today. An official I-signed-about-12-pieces-of-paper offer.

And now..........we wait.

Wish us luck!

They "GET" Neither The Beatles Nor Sarcasm in Dixie

Actual conversation that took place today.

I send a daily stats email to employees daily. I always include trivia or a name that tune sort of thing, for fun - to break up the drudgery etc. Today's email was including a line from PENNY LANE.

One of the girls came of and said she didn't know the song - what was it?

The exchange went like this:
Me: Penny Lane, by the Beatles.
Her: OH....I don't really like the Beatles, I only like classic old stuff like Zeppelin. Not new stuff.
Me: Ummmmm, the Beatles? John Paul George Ringo?
Her: Right. I don't really like new music.
Me: You know the Beatles came out like 40+ years ago right?
Her: Oh is that when they started?
Me: Yeah they broke up like 71 or 72.....John Lennon was murdered in 80 so I don't think I'd really call them NEW.....
Her: Oh he got murdered? Which one was he?
Me: The English one. (the sarcasm begins HERE for you southerners)
Her: Wow what happened was it random?
Me: No he was murdered on purpose by a psychopath named Mark David Chapman who did it to be cool or some bullshit.
Her: WOW how do you know all this did you know him?
Me: Yeah.....we had the same birthday. (true, we do/did).
Her: Were your mom's in the hospital at the same time?
Me: Ummm. No.

At this point I exit to the stage left so I don't pee my pants laughing as my stone face was cracking.

They "GET" Neither The Beatles Nor Sarcasm in Dixie

Actual conversation that took place today.

I send a daily stats email to employees daily. I always include trivia or a name that tune sort of thing, for fun - to break up the drudgery etc. Today's email was including a line from PENNY LANE.

One of the girls came of and said she didn't know the song - what was it?

The exchange went like this:
Me: Penny Lane, by the Beatles.
Her: OH....I don't really like the Beatles, I only like classic old stuff like Zeppelin. Not new stuff.
Me: Ummmmm, the Beatles? John Paul George Ringo?
Her: Right. I don't really like new music.
Me: You know the Beatles came out like 40+ years ago right?
Her: Oh is that when they started?
Me: Yeah they broke up like 71 or 72.....John Lennon was murdered in 80 so I don't think I'd really call them NEW.....
Her: Oh he got murdered? Which one was he?
Me: The English one. (the sarcasm begins HERE for you southerners)
Her: Wow what happened was it random?
Me: No he was murdered on purpose by a psychopath named Mark David Chapman who did it to be cool or some bullshit.
Her: WOW how do you know all this did you know him?
Me: Yeah.....we had the same birthday. (true, we do/did).
Her: Were your mom's in the hospital at the same time?
Me: Ummm. No.

At this point I exit to the stage left so I don't pee my pants laughing as my stone face was cracking.

Thursday, May 08, 2008

Has This House Been Psychologically Damaged?

The House Hunting has begun in earnest. We saw three last night.
First off, one which could have been the winner if the previous owners who LOST the house in foreclosure weren't dicks and trashed the house before leaving.
They ripped the wallpaper off the walls -yes ripped it damaging the dry wall underneath. Took all the fixtures. Etc.
A shot of the looking into the fenced back yard.

And picture looking at the back of the house.
And then, the backyard which would of course have to be chopped back to China to make it come back as usable.

Alas, this house got nixed. Water damage, total rehab being required just makes it unlivable for such a big family of little kids. It would've been rather fantastic actually if the previous owners hadn't made it so atrocious inside. So thanks to them, you really showed that bank a thing or two by trashing.
You also denied my family an opportunity at owning a lovely house.
Jerks.

Another house we looked at sat on a lot of land, and it is truly FANTASTIC inside - well fitted but, the rooms are kinda choppy, small. The kids are upstairs, we would be downstairs......and it's a little rural. Now, I LIKE it. It's the #2 contender currently. It's just a bit of a weird arrangement. I couldn't take pics because the power wasn't on and it was 9pm at night.


The last house, the contender and the one we'll probably make an offer on muy pronto is.....


I need to get a better pic but it was night time. 3 bedrooms, bonus room, 2.5 baths 2 car garage and a fully fenced in back yard WITH a brick patio.

I'm in love.

Yes, native Atlantans, I am moving FURTHER OTP.

It doesn't mean I'm less cool. It means I am BRINGING cool north.