Love notes to my Trick Or Treaters

Hey, you, the teenager with only a mask and a pillowcase. Get an effing job and buy some candy for your own punk ass. Go home.

And you, Someone's Mommy. Yes your toddler is adorable but does he NEED to come to my house when I don't know him? Don't stand next to my porch and bitch about how heavy the stroller is because you are pushing it and it only holds a pillowcase with his candy. Go home.

You... banging on my door. STOP IT! I know you are there and it takes me 3 seconds to come to the door from my sink. Chill out and stop eating chocolate. Go home.

You... driving your kids around. Make them walk. Don't come here from your own neighborhood just because we have lots of families here. Go home.

To my children, I'm sorry that every year I don't buy enough candy and I steal some of what you got, to hand out. I spent $20 this year and that wasn't enough. I'll buy you some more tomorrow. Go home. No, wait. Go to Grandma's.

Dammit I hate this holiday. My light's off.

Go home.

Look what came in the mail

Eat your heart out, Shamus!!

Linky

This is a different sort of link. They sell vintage posters in a variety of themes (food, travel, ...)

Tu scendi

This is the kind of thing we do in my choir. We worked on this song tonight.* It's not us singing on the webpage, obviously, but this is similar to the arrangement we're doing.

*Well, most of us.... Icky was 30 minutes late. No surprise there!

(turn on your speakers to hear it)

It's not Friday

... but I don't have to go to work tomorrow. So for the next few days I'll be wondering "what the heck day is it? Is it Monday yet?"

I appear to not be the only parent who objects to multiple hours of homework per night. I'm gonna start a union or something. At the very least I'm going to keep a log of how much time is spent per night and encourage my friends to do the same. Because, you know, I need time to blog and stuff. Really, an 11 year old just shouldn't work from 4:00 - 9:30 on homework with time out only for a grilled cheese.

Mr. C is starting a project that puts fear in my heart. He's gutting the bathroom. YES. Eight days before my birthday party. My "yes I'm 40 but the cake can't be a tombstone and I want to pick it out because I am anal retentive and yes I am making some of the appetizers too despite the fact that everyone wants me to sit down and let them do the work, because I love to cook" party. Carrott cake and a sampler of cheesecakes, if you're wondering, and something chocolate for the Mr. too

Anyway, the plan is that a wonderful man will come tomorrow and lay the linoleum I picked out a lonnnnng time ago (while wearing shorts and a tshirt, if that gives you a hint). Then Mr. C and Brother will put in a new sink and throne. So, granted, not truly gutting, because hopefully electricity is not ANY part of this project, and the tub doesn't get any play, but stillllll.

Mr. Wonderful just BETTER arrive. I don't have good luck with these things. When we did our addition a few years ago my kitchen floor was put in on Christmas eve, after a problem in the factory (rolls were sticking together at point of manufacture, rendering them un-rollable), and then a cancellation of the planned day due to a huge snowstorm. Mind you, we started the whole project in early October so I'd about lost my mind at that point. Eventually I did the girl thing, cried on the phone to the right person about my holiday dinner and how many guests were coming. Voila. Linoleum.

By Monday, I hope this will all be over. Is it Monday yet?

Wine is fine

Kids got too much homework? How about a lovely glass of chardonnay before dinner, once all that pesky homework is done? Who needs to know the names of the parts of a damn microscope, anyway, unless your nickname is Beaker? (...I miss Jim Henson) What is a collective noun? WHO CARES? and do you know Pirates Don't Wear Pink Sunglasses, and that it takes an entire family to do a book report on same if it has to be in a clever box that is decorated and contains F-I-V-E objects that are mentioned in the story? Sweet mother of pearl.

...and how about another glass, with dinner, and another after that? Hey, it's a lovely Chardonnay, from Chile, gotta give it a good tasting. Actually it's not bad. D.J. might possibly like it. (Yes, you. HI!)

PS: do you know the world's tallest dog is apparently a dalmatian over seven feet tall? holy crap.

PPS: And it is snowing already in the northeast. This just isn't right. It is still OCTOBER. It better not snow on the day of my birthday party or I will totally frizz out.

Snarly out. (Only a few of you will get that, but if you don't, don't ask.)

Go Sox! (yeah, that's just for one friend but you know who you are...)

Evil Genius

So, today I got my new credit card. (I'll save time for hackers and just give you the number right now.....) I also got the forms to dispute the transaction I didn't authorize. Great. Now I need to find a notary public. Know one?

My question is, why can't these little bastard hackers do something useful with their coding skills? Write a program that will scan my kid's math homework and find the mistakes. Because frankly, I'm sick of running timestables and long division and WORD PROBLEMS, really.

Write a program that will analyze third grade books and tell me which one I can read to my kid in one evening to complete his book report (reading's the easy part, it's the rest of the book report. It has to be in a clever box/bag that is decorated to represent the book and we need to include five items that tell something about the story. So yes, we were painting a box to look like a log cabin today. It's a good thing I'm an arts & crafts freak.)

As if I don't have enough things to do. Last week it was "parents can help with searching online for images of your Native American tribe". Did you know the actor who played Tonto was a true Mohawk Indian? His name was Jay Silverheels ...just in case you're wondering.

How I spent 2 hours

...without even noticing....

http://www.mypublisher.com/default.php

Oh Britney, Britney

Apparently Mrs. Federline was going to sell her first family portrait to a magazine (People? maybe) but backed out feeling like she was exploiting the little love bug. Y'know, selling her child. Then some of the photos were put out on the internet, then lawyers came along and the photos were removed, blah blah blah. Not important really.

But...

For some reason, I had the following train of thought. Someone will make money by shooting the first family photo and selling it to a magazine. The best of a really bad situation would be for Brit to take the money herself, and put it in trust for Spawn. You know, for all of the therapy.

Yes, so in other words I'm in complete denial about important stuff and I'm amusing myself with Britney's "problems".



You are Schroeder!

Which Peanuts Character are You?

Watch out for that tiger

Little me, in NYC about 1970, so I was about 5. That's some rug, isn't it?? And no, I don't wear my skirts this short anymore.

I'm not ready for this!

Last night my daughter, who's in 5th grade, went to her first school dance.

She didn't want to go at first and I said "Whyyyyy?" and so I convinced her to go to one, by promising that if she didn't like it she wouldn't have to go to any more. She is shy and tends to hang back and not jump right into the thick of things.

So, she went and of course she DID have a great time - I gave her some space by not staying to chaperone since I knew a few of the moms who were there.

I started thinking on the way home "Wait a minute. I went to MY first dance in 5th grade and that was when I got my first kiss." (Can't remember his name.... John something? Not a great kiss)

Somehow I managed to NOT go back there and drag her out of the dance, mumbling about how no daughter of mine is going to sneak behind the stage curtains and kiss.

I'm SO not ready for her to be dating.

Flash Fiction Friday # 13

(click on title link for explanation/ rules... and join in already!)


With money in my pocket and a clean white shirt I headed back to the casino.

The shirt was courtesy of the man I'd stolen the money from. He couldn't hold his alcohol very well. He'd passed out as soon as we were in the room, to my relief. He'd been so far gone that I'd even been able to raid the minibar and have a bite to eat.

I knew that Larry would be waiting for me. Damn, I was sick of him. Sick of the blackmail, the threats, the way he pawed me.

I felt his big meaty paw clamp down on my wrist and spin me around. "Hey girl, where you off to in such a hurry?" he slurred. Obviously, he'd been dipping into the funds - MY funds, which he always so "generously" insisted on holding - and he was half in the bag already, practically stumbling.

He pulled me around the side of a row of slot machines. "How much?" he asked in a low voice. "Twenty thousand," I sighed, "...but don't make me hand it to you here, there are surveillance cameras everwhere."

"Yeah, well let's give them something to look at, huh?" he smirked. He dragged me closer, shoving his slobbering, disgusting tongue into my mouth for several seconds while I cringed inwardly. He broke the "kiss" and looked at me, laughing, and then a strange look passed over his face.

"Hey, I don't feel so hot" he muttered. I sneered at him "You're drunk, asshole. Go sit at one of the tables. I've got to go to the ladies room."

He lurched a few steps, and then licked his lips. He rubbed his throat, probably already feeling it beginning to close up. It was then that he noticed the aftertaste of our kiss. "Peanuts? Did you eat peanuts and then kiss me, you stupid bitch?" The last few words were barely audible, since he was already wheezing.

I took a few steps back, just as a group of college kids came around the end of the row of slots. He bumped into one, spilling his drink all over him, and that was my chance. While they were busy trying to pick a fight with him, surrounding him, I slipped the other way down the row, and stepped into the ladies' room, where I ditched my wig, and the white shirt, leaving on the beige halter top I'd worn earlier. I put on my glasses, and walked quickly out the restroom door.

Without looking over my shoulder, I made my way for the nearest casino exit. I heard them shout when he fell - "holy crap, what's wrong with this guy?" and so on.

He was probably dead as soon as he hit the floor.

Every time...

Every time Sue looks at her clock, it is 9:11.

Every time.

What does this mean?

She even did it at my house, the morning after my daughter's sleepover.

What more could I ask?

Well, my mother has acute pancreatitis. Or she doesn't. It depends, apparently, on which family member is asking her, and even though conversations can be minutes apart the mood and information conveyed is vastly different.

So I'm checking out. I can't play anymore.

Instead, I'm going to absorb myself in catalogs. This will not be difficult to do, since this week alone, I got 3 on Tuesday, 7 on Wednesday, 4 yesterday, and 5 today.

WTF??

Dunno.

But I'm buying this for John, and this for Shamus, and maybe this for Johnny V to help him remember the tropical vacation he's on right now... somewhere near the eye of the hurricane, as far as I know.

And that's just from the first catalog. Eighteen more to go.

The October birthstone is Opal

The Opal dates back to prehistoric times. It is a non-crystallized silica, which is a mineral found near the earth's surface in areas where ancient geothermal hot springs once existed. As the hot springs dried up, layers of the silica, combined with water, were deposited into the cracks and cavities of the bedrock, forming Opal. This gemstone actually contains up to 30% water, so it must be protected from heat or harsh chemicals, both of which will cause drying and may lead to cracking and loss of iridescence. Opal must also be guarded from blows, since it is relatively soft and breaks easily.

I haven't really felt like blogging the last few days. My mother's been in and out of the ER three times in the past week. She has an undiagnosed problem that involves pain, and problems with eating, and apparently the pain is much worse than usual these last few days, but the tests still show absolutely nothing.

My sister (a nurse) and I have made repeated efforts to help her, but the problem is that you can't help someone who refuses to help themselves. Simply, if you won't take any medicine, and refuse to modify (or at least KEEP TRACK OF) your diet as suggested, don't be surprised when you don't feel better. You must make a change, to see a change.

This has been going on for quite some time now - several years - and it has consumed her, to the point where she won't make plans because she doesn't know how she will feel on a given day, and that gets frustrating to the point where it's hard to be sympathetc despite the fact that I do KNOW she is in pain.

I know that I am certainly not the only person in the world whose life is shifting... the child becomes the parent, and the parent becomes the one in need of care. It's disheartening and on the worst days I wonder "will I be like this someday??"

Today is her birthday and I am torn. I want to wish her a Happy Birthday, but I just don't think she'll take the wish and run with it. She is mired in this situation and apparently doesn't think or talk about anything else. I would pretty much buy her whatever she asked for, (as long as it's not being sold by Amazon...) but she doesn't want anything. Anything. If I send her flowers, that would be wasteful, and she's really not the gift basket type. Clothes don't really have much impact. She doesn't have a DVD player (or a CD player or a computer or cable tv or internet access, oh my god, I could go on and on with that one....but I would fall down dead of shock if she said "I read your blog today..." ) I suggested that she could go to one of the upcoming cooking classes at Glen Sanders Mansion and she wasn't interested. Sports are not a part of her world, nor is music or the theater. So I am at a loss and the birthday present issue is only the tip of the iceberg.

I admit it - I resent the fact that not only does she let this dominate her life and every conversation we have; but also that even on a good day she won't just come over to my house, sit and have a cup of tea and chat with me, or meet me at the mall or for lunch or a movie. Me, me, me, I know. But she doesn't want to go anywhere, really, and she'd prefer that we not stop by uninvited, so I am at her house maybe 3 or four times a year. Maximum. I feel petty and small and selfish. Why can't I have a mother like other people's?? Does that make me evil, because I'm stamping my feet and whining about it? Great, now I feel guilty too.

This is the way it's always been, but now it's worse because she won't even really come and enjoy family gatherings at my house. She can't wait to leave, and tries to rush me along, get the main meal served, let's get dessert served, well, I really have to get home to my dog. I hate that dog so much, because she uses it as an excuse to just walk away from family time with me and my children and doesn't even look over her shoulder on the way down the driveway.

I still have my Mother, unlike some of my friends, but I don't, really, and the sick thing is that I envy them because at least they HAD the kind of relationship that I have always wish for, and despite all of my attempts, don't seem destined to have.

And then

in this article she sounds like a completely different person.... I hate journalists....

Frankly

this gives me the chills:

If Lourdes leaves dirty clothes on the floor, "we take all of her clothes and put them in a bag, and she has to earn all of her clothes back by being tidy," Madonna said. "She wears the same outfit every day to school until she learns her lesson."

(full article)

For crying out loud, tell the child "take these clothes and go put them in the hamper." Putting ALL of their clothes in a bag, well, you're just overreacting....it just reeks of being toooooo strict, in a scary way, for Moi...I have always believed that "disclipline" is best imposed by teaching children what they should be doing and reminding them over and over, rather than abusing them when they do something they shouldn't.

PS: Milk is off limits??? Color me puzzled - is Midge a vegetarian or vegan or something?

FFF #12...

Click on the title link to visit JJ's site, and read other stories or join in ---Flash Fiction Friday is a weekly writing challenge....


The children are gone...

What do I do now? There is no one to make a grilled cheese for. No more apples to cut up and dip in peanut butter. Someone is probably making him a grilled cheese sandwich right now on a George Foreman grill in the dorm.

There will be no more quick loads of laundry to wash shirts that they "neeeeed for my date tonight". I'll probably only do about 3 loads a week now that she's not here, changing her clothes three times a day. Where are the onesies, the tshirts, the pajamas with feet? All gone.

What will I do with my afternoons? No more homework to help with. No timestables to drill. No papers to type the night before they're due.

And my weeknds... no soccer games, sitting in my chair-in-a-bag bundled up in a fleece sweatshirt. No basketball games at the gym with popcorn and sodas at halftime. No school concerts, no PTO meetings.

What will I do with all of my time? I mean... of course... what will WE do?

Who is this person I'm married to? I know he walks out every morning with an overstuffed briefcase, and appears late in the evening, to eat microwaved leftovers and fall asleep in front of the tv.

I have a plan.

In a few days I'll tell him, as he's walking out the door to work. Just before he gives me that half kiss.

Or maybe I won't.

Maybe I'll just go.

I'll leave a note. Or a phone message. Maybe I'll email him at work.

"The children are gone, and I don't know if you even notice me anymore. I've been saving the extra grocery money all of these years, and I have a little condo down south, on the beach. If you want to come along, be at the airport by 3."

I wonder if he'll come.

What is that strange yellow ball??

After I don't know how many days of rain (I've lost count but it's been well over a week, every day...)

...the sun is shining into my family room windows.

Nope, never mind, it's gone again. But I saw it. I did!!

But maybe he does...

Well, the day finally came. My brother in law was going to sit down and tell my nephew about Santa today... so we had to talk to Beth... because 5th graders should know what's going on.

We decided we'd talk about St Nick, and how he secretly gave gifts to people in need, and what a good thing it is to give a gift, and so the idea turned in to Santa, and how everyone who is a grownup loves to be a part of the secret, and when you are older, you get to be a part of the secret and make the magic for the younger children.

So we were doing that and she was grinning and I said "Do you know what we're telling you? Do you understand already that Santa isn't just one guy, and Mom and Dad buy your stuff?"

She just laughed at us and said "Well I didn't THINK Santa would go to shop at the Limited Too... " She was soooo on to us last Christmas already.

Digital THIS

I have a credit card I use exclusively for internet purchases, because it's from the same bank where I have my checking account (any guesses? Bueller?) -- so, when I download my checking account transactions, it automatically picks up anything newly billed to the credit card. Online banking, hooked to Microsoft Money, is wonderful for anal retentive people like me.

The other day I got this from Amazon because I have made a number of necklaces and bracelets now, and they're all over the place, so it seemed like a good deal. I was pretty happy about finding something that wasn't acrylic or just plain ugly.

Until I downloaded my recent activity, and saw that in addition to being billed by Amazon, I got hit by "Digital Age 888-529-98 Cyprus " for $24.99

I asked Mr. C if he has bought anything online recently, because he knows the drill - this is the only card we use. And, y'all probably don't know this, but I'm going to be 40 soon, so he might be shopping for me, KWIM?

Turns out (after one quick Google search on the phone number) that apparently this is a bogus charge that is somehow made possible by the brilliant IT department at Amazon. Hey you guys, secure your effing servers. I have disputed the charge and asked for a new account number. Yippy skippy.

Night under our Roses

Well, well, well....

something we have long suspected at work, is that two of my coworkers are romantically involved. There was never any real proof, other than the fact that they always went to lunch together, and never seemed to date anyone else. However, everyone in the department at large was always asking one another "are you sure they're NOT together?" We all sort of knew, but didn't know for sure. We all had little bits of info (X saw them together here, Y saw them together there, but the response was always "No, we're just friends.")

Today He fessed up to our boss and then to the rest of the team that they just got engaged. She was hiding at home...so we promptly called her to congratulate her.

They have been dating under the radar for SEVEN YEARS... and living together for at least 4. They own a house together. Damn, they're good. It's scary.

Funny, you never really know what the person in the cubicle next to you is actually doing on their own time.

Hey Punk, you've got a wonderful girl... congratulations again to you both.

Yes, Amelia

I really AM going to tell the entire internet that while we were volunteering at the NICU tonight, I watched you eat a Dove Cherry Garcia ice cream bar, get some chocolate on your shirt, and then pick that chocolate off bit by bit and eat it.

But it's OK because you're pregnant and you can do whatever you want. (Did you see the big jar of kosher pickles in the cafeteria? I swear)

Harper Valley PaThologicAl

SO, being the good little soccer mom I am (hahaha shut up) I attend PTA meetings.

Seriously, these things are better than soap operas.

A friend of mine said to me "didn't we have money set aside last year from xyz fundraiser for the science lab? did they spend that? " Now, my memory is crummy. (I have better things to remember than this...and when you attend a catholic school there's at LEAST two fundraisers going on at any given time) So I said d'oh, I dunno, you better ask.

She asked the question during the meeting, during the treasurer's report. Something nonconfrontational like, did I miss a meeting, did we vote on how to spend those funds, what did we buy? The response was this vague, somehow very defensive rambling blah blah blah this was a fundraiser specifically by a parish group, the PTA doesn't get to vote on how the funds are spent, blahablahaha. When my head was about to explode, I said "I believe her question is, what was purchased?"

Again with the blahahahahaha about who actually organized the fundraiser. Problem is that many of us worked that event, and we have this money in the PTA account...because, why again??? One of the PTA officers said that "the science lab is on the agenda" in a tight voice. Unclench, dolly. I just wonder what we bought?

More blahaha about how the funds are targeted for the lab and the pta doesn't vote on it, the science teacher prioritizes needs. Sweet mother of pearl, WHAT DID WE BUY? I sold a lotta hamburgers at that fundraiser, dammit.

I had to wait for the discussion of school picture day (they have to wear their uniforms! Mandatory! more drama because If You Were Committed To The School You Would Want a Picture of Your Child in the Uniform)

Finally the magic agenda item.....

Tables. We bought science lab tables. Would it be SO hard to say "we got tables, and we'll talk about them in detail in a few minutes." ???

My new mission is to ask a question at every meeting from now on.

Tomorrow's Tuesday??

It seems like Sunday night. I know I'll be confused all week, and it's going to rain, FOREVER.

Another long weekend bites the dust, with my wildly improbable (and far too lengthy) "projects I'm going to catch up on because I have four straight days I don't have to go to work" list crumpled on the desk under the Christmas catalogs that are already starting to arrive. At least the teeth thing went well.

Speaking of holiday shopping - check out this toy but be sure to scroll down to see the gem that it's BETTER TOGETHER with...because four year old kids NEED to know what color we're currently at. (I'm dying for Poly to see this.)

The things I WANTED to do(try my new yoga dvd, make a necklace, sort out some of my scrapbook stuff, order some pictures via snapfish) got crowded off my agenda by crappy things like "if I don't buy boots for my kids now, when it snows for the first time there won't be any in stores." Cha ching, $40 for boots. $60 more for jeans. Is it normal to want to fling a shopping cart as far as you can? Hmmm, no, didn't think so.

Apple pie making, part deux... much better results today because I worked in tandem with my sister in law.

I bought this in a moment of insanity brought on by Mr. Carly getting a new job (early this year). Well, my son thinks it's important to have it on so that they win. Last night, he insisted it be turned on before he went to bed, and when he woke up we told him, they'd won, and he felt solely responsible. So, tonight it looks like I may have to mess with his mind in the morning and tell him I accidentally unplugged it, if they lose this game. Heh heh.

Aloft

Choir has started up again for the fall season at my church. Of course, Icky was half an hour late for our first rehearsal. I looked at one of my fellow Altos when he strolled in and said "Is it 7:30 already?" and was rewarded with a muffled snort.

This choir is full of comedians. If Stanley says "let's run through the other song now" you can be assured that we will all stamp our feet on the floor for a quick jog. Stupid but fun.

We did one of my favorite songs which is a Marty Haugen version of the 23rd Psalm. Usually I don't like the modern stuff (no offense to all the people waving their hands from side to side on the tv commercials, but it's just not for me, I'm not comfortable with that kind of thing and I like the old fashioned stuff in Latin)

It's a stew-for-dinner day; fall is definitely here.

And I have two of them

We bring you this live update thanks to wireless modems that can send a signal through the entire house, but I have security, darn it, so no parking in front of my house trying to steal my signal.

Well it's been a great day here at Chez Carly. The start of a long weekend, fall is in the air, and terror was in the hearts of everyone under five feet tall.

Thing 1 needed to have four teeth removed. Her baby teeth do not fall out, as baby teeth are SUPPOSED to do. This has already lead to adventures in orthodontia. Teeth bunch up and point in all sorts of directions when they don't fall out in a timely fashion. Retainers can come in glow in the dark pink swirly plastic, did you know that? All for a mere $1800. Most of which will not be covered by company benefits but hey, they have E-Z payment plans at the orthodontist.

The last time we tried to get teeth pulled, she drank the valium offered by the oral surgeon's nurse, then proceeded to scream hysterically "I don't want to get my teeth pulled!" over and over. You could hear her in all exam rooms, even out in the waiting room where Mr. C was hiding. Giving the nitrous oxide was not possible given the screaming and crying. Oral Surgeon looked at me and said "I think we need to go to plan B" which apparently is horse tranquilzer, administered with a really big needle so that the screaming is louder.

Plan B only toned down the screaming, it didn't stop it. So we had another shot, and then as she FINALLY succumbed to all of the various sedatives and lay there drooling, the offending teeth came out. She puked all the way home, and lay in bed in a stupor for the rest of the day. It was a really good time.

So you can imagine how much she was looking forward to having four more pulled today.

Thing 2 went to the dentist recently, and we were told, "Just take her xrays back to the orthodontist because his teeth look exactly the same" and they were pretty much serious. He was supposed to have 3 teeth pulled today. You see, he does lose teeth once in a while. He's not very good at it - the first one was swallowed with a bite of peanut butter sandwich. Apparently one of the 3 in question today broke off when he was eating an apple ("I thought it seemed crunchy") so that left 2 1/2 to yank.

Off we went to the oral surgeon's. Valium for the boy. A good pep talk for the girl from Oral Surgeon who had pointed out during the consult visit that she has several fillings and this doesn't have to be any worse than getting them. She toughed it out pretty well and took the nitrous, clenching my hand firmly the entire time. Ouch. It was good though, no horse needles, and she got through it all just fine while Mommy was carefully NOT looking at the bloody gaping holes that were developing in her mouth.

Yechhh.

The boy held up pretty well until it was time to get out of the car at home, and we discovered that someone had replaced his legs with cooked spaghetti. For some reason I was the one with my hands under his armpits, carrying the drunken sailor up the front steps. Hmm.

Off we dragged him, into my room which apparently is where I'll be spending the next few hours, watching them sleep and drool blood onto my old towels.

The party REALLY started as I was putting him into my bed. He looked adoringly at me, smirking a little bit, and said "Wow, mommy has 3 heads."

We got him to lay down after a couple of tries and took the gauze out when we realized he was chewing it. All of sudden he held up his left hand , which was twitching some, and gazed at it with a dreamy expression: "Look...."

Mr. C said "Yes, D, it's your hand"

With a visible startle D held up his right hand and said "WOW, I have two of them!"

Banshee

Oh yeah, the stress level has gone down.... more on that in next post... but I still felt like THIS for a good part of the morning:





...thanks Poly

A Beaujolais gets no respect

Wine class again last night, goys and birls. I had a couple of glasshes. It was good shtuff.

OK, I know that's bad, but I'll leave it in just because it will annoy a couple of people and you all know that amuses me.

So we had Ted, the teacher/store representative, who resembles Bob Newhart, and Ted, the guy who looks like Sean Connery, and is a cool guy attending the classes, as I have said already. Mr. C was late and missed a good portion of Ted's usual lengthy preamble, getting there just when the wine was poured. Bastard. All the payoff and none of the pain.

The cheeses were very dramatic this time. Exhibit A, an aged goats milk cheese from a NY farm. I won't say the name because frankly, I gagged on the cheese, it was so strong and stinky. I don't want to harm this farm's reputation with my lack of sophisticated taste buds, so they shall remain anonymous.

Mind you, there is a couple in this series of classes we will call the Brownnosers. The Browns sit at the end of the table RIGHT next to Ted, and greet him in French each evening, and just generally exude "aren't we such fabulous, sophisticated wine experts?" They drive me crazy. This is NOT Manhattan, kids. Get over yourselves. It's a little wine shop in upstate NY.

The Browns, of course, luhved the stinky goat cheese. I swear to you, if dryer lint were soaked in the sweat of Bruce Jenner's scary post-plastic-surgery face, it would be more appealing.

Moving on.

The other cheese hit it completely out of the park. It was a smoked Gouda, from Clover Mead Farm, again in NY. Oh my gahd, it was delicious. Smoked tenderly over apple wood, I covertly fought my brother in law for every last morsel. So much for the diet, which is distressing because I AM GOING TO BE 40 SOON PEOPLE, 4-0, AND THERE WILL BE A PARTY AND WHAT THE HELL AM I GOING TO WEAR???

Wait... this was supposed to be about the wine.

SO... you most likely have heard the word Beaujolais followed by the word "Nouveau". Beaujolais Nouveau is a special 7- to 9 week old wine that is released with much fanfare on the Third Thursday of November. Seriously. The Concorde used to fly this stuff around the world so the wealthy could have it as soon as it was released. It is meant to be drunk very young. As in, try to drink it the same year, before New Year's Eve.

Beaujolais is in the southern part of France's Burgundy region and focuses on Gamay grapes for red wines. Beaujolais winemakers have a process called carbonic maceration*, which makes a wine that can be consumed early.

(*CM : used during primary fermentation to produce light red wines with low tannins, intense color, and fresh, fruity flavors and aromas. Dump whole bunches of freshly picked, uncrushed grapes into large vats filled with carbon dioxide and a good wine yeast. The bottom grapes are crushed by the ones above, and fermentation begins. This develops more carbon dioxide gas, which envelops the upper layers of uncrushed grapes and blocks air exposure that would normally occur. Soon, fermentation begins within the whole grapes, and they begin to ooze more juice. Finally the whole batch is pressed, and fermenetation is finished in a standard way --- Barron's Educational Services, Inc 1995 based on The Wine Lover's Companion, by Ron Herbst and Sharon Tyler Herbst)


As an experiment (can you say "can we still sell this old Beujolais Nouveau"? ) Ted had us try a bottle of last year's Beujolais Nouveau (I'm getting so sick of typing that out because I have to think very hard about all of those damn vowels.) He was very upfront and told us that he wanted to see if it was still a good tasting wine. Fair enough. I have no problem with that.

Sister and law and I, as well as Mr. C, all enjoyed it. It was a 2004 Beujolais Nouveau (Domaine de la Madone? that's what's on my notes sheet but it seems incomplete) and was about $11.

Ted thought it was still fairly good, and described it as fruity, tasting like a raspberry popsicle or wild strawberry flavor. It was pretty easy to drink. The Browns apparently found it boring.

The next wine was a Beaujolais, not a Beujolais Nouveau, but rather one aged in the traditional fashion. The wine we had was a just released, Carquelin Moulin a Vent 2004. This is a wine by Georges Duboeuf, and if you have some time go google about the scandal where he was caught basically mislabelling wines for profit. Heh.

Ted described this wine as a bit more earthy/ musty and still tasting young. In other words, leave it in the bottle another year or two in a cool dark place. However it was still very good and in my little clique it was the one we liked the best or second best. Again, not good enough for the Browns.

The third wine was Chateau de la Terriere 2001, Jules du Souzy. Once more, apologies if this is not the right set of words in the proper order. (My brother in law elicited horrified gasps from the Browns by muttering "House of the Dog?". I heart him. Ted/Sean Connery pointed out in a very friendly way that it's French for terrain, not terrier.) So, a slightly older Beaujolais, and one more for the experienced wine taster... because it smelled very earthy and musty. (Yes, like a wet dog, if you think like my brother in law.) Ted/Bob Newhart gushed over this one "I could just stand here and smell it over and over" and "I'm intoxicated by the smell" and so on. Ehh. The Browns loved it. Suck ups.

Try a Beaujolais with a nice roast chicken, and chill the wine slightly. And don't forget, if it's Nouveau, don't stick in in your cellar for your toddler's high school graduation.

Apparently

there are no PeeWee cheerleaders for the 3rd grade boys' basketball team that my son is on. Why, you ask, was that information conveyed to me, when I'm in absolutely no position to do anything about that?? Dunno. No idea.

Tonight was another wine class night...Beaujolais (it's a red, for you beer fans).

Dude Resembling Sean Connery, whose name is apparently also Ted, just to confuse me of course, was there again and we all chatted (my brother in law and his wife also go to these classes) and it was fun. More tomorrow when my notes are more legible (perhaps).

Blogadeeblog

I saw my little niece over the weekend... she is 2 1/2 weeks old and everyone held her and oohed and ahhhhed over such a tiny bundle that does...absolutely nothing, except "input/output" and sleep. She really is adorable. Busy weekend, family party at Chez Moi. Hey, but the house is clean now. We always look at each other and say "we just have to keep it this way... how do we do that??" The kids are just NOT good at picking up after themselves.

I won't say much about this, other than, it was close to where I live, and my heart goes out to all of those people on board, and their families. Lake George is beautiful and I have been on a few different cruises there (there are at least 3 different companies that operate a variety of boats and SOME DAY, I will parasail on that lake). Yesterday was an absolutely beautiful day weather-wise in upstate NY and that makes the story even more tragic somehow, to think that something could go so wrong on such a picture-postcard day. One thing you might not see on the news is that there were many private boats out, because of the good weather, and they all rushed to help, which is one reason so many people DID survive this accident.

Today, another perfect, take-a-walk-in-the-park day. I can't believe it's October. It's so WARM! We don't have a lot of fall colors yet on the trees near my house, and I am headed out to play basketball with the kids. Lest you think I am bragging about being SuperMom, let me advise you that I do things like this to make up for my "bad mommy" flaws like letting them listen to songs like "Music makes you lose control" (my son is singing it on the throne right now...) which will surely decay any morals I manage to pass along to them.

Stuff

It's too bad that...

• my brother-in-laws and other guilty parties who will not be identified can not understand the words "do not buy any more stuffed animals please"
• that Mommy breaks that rule, often
• they get thrown on the floor every night
• the room doesn't look like this unless we're having a party
• she can remember the name of each one AND who gave it to her, but can't remember her timestables
  
  and stuff...

PS...check out the music box I got her... it plays Phantom / Music of the Night... on the white shelf at far right

But this, I like

Fun invention - beermat

Hey, I'm in party mode, which means we're trying to do all the housecleaning (that FlyLady wants us to do a little bit at a time every day...) in one day. Hah!

Later, kids