Catalogs again

Today's catalog offering is the Danbury Mint. NOT the Franklin Mint. No sireee. Ok, I know this might be getting stale, but they keep coming!!

Which brings me to today's first item. I mean, really, how often do you have a chance to purchase the Buck of a Lifetime? I mean, yes, Nick Bibby is extraordinary (but how often did he get beaten up in highschool, with that name?)

I would be remiss not to draw your attention to the stained glass dog clocks. I had a Sheltie when I was little, so I showed you this, but there are others, fear not. This clock features four interchangeable seasonal scenes, AND it LIGHTS, people! I almost died when I realized it was $150. Oh sure, they pretty it up at $149.75 but come on. We're too smart for that.

I didn't have to go very far into the catalog to find a men's Dallas Cowboy's bracelet. (It's like this only it has a section with a gold Cowboys' star, which yours truly actually stood on years ago. The one on the center of their field, yes I did. Ok, anyway.) Gentlemen. Guys... Jackets, that's ok. Team jerseys are awesome, especially when your girlfriend gets to borrow it to sleep in. Whatever. But a bracelet? (It's only 8" so if it actually fits you, count on getting your ass kicked if you wear it. Wrap the short side of a regular sized piece of paper around your wrist and see what I mean. It's so wimpy they don't even sell it online!) Next!

This is ugly and the Peanuts were not Irish, so it makes no sense. Well, maybe Peppermint Patty was - but this does have the golden pot that my coworker Greg always talks about. (He who doth mangle many a common quotation.) There are other Peanuts things that are cuter, if you like that kind of thing. (Lower middle class, slightly disfunctional and VERY unsupervised children stranded in childhood, never aging. They must be relatively broke, like I was growing up, because they never seem to have Great World Traveling Adventures. Where ARE their parents??? But at least we never had to endure A Very Special Peanuts episode where Charlie Brown got caught skipping school with a joint in his pocket.)

You can get several disconcerting images of Pope John Paul II. I'd end this paragraph with the remark "moneygrubbing bastards" but you might be confused about my intent. Did they get permission to put a picture of my dead Pope on a plate?

Truly this is a SLOW website. I'd show you the John Deere and Betty Boop products, but my time is just about up. Fun with M & M's. Disney Collectibles. Creepy lifelike dolls - it's all here! Oh, and the Pilsbury amputee Doughboy... oooh hoooo!

thanks for shopping with me!

A tiny seashell

Sometimes, when you are a tiny baby in intensive care, you are baptised the night before you have surgery.

If you are baptised in the NICU, your nurse will have a small, delicate scalloped seashell ready for the service.

A stern older chaplain will pour sterile water over your little head, using the seashell.

The chaplain will politely request that the nurses nearby recite the Lord's prayer.

There will be no party, no cake or gifts, no special white outfit. Your parents might not even be there.

But sometimes, there will be a volunteer photographer.

The photographer's heart will break just a tiny bit as the last drop of holy water lingers on your temple, and then drips down onto your bedding.

Google This, part 5

It's time once again for "Great Google! How did you find my blog from THAT search?"
Here are some of the unusual paths that have lead you, my darling readers, right to my blog.

*Dominic the Donkey and Feifel are back, of course. (Not together. Although just writing that, I think about the naughty version of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. Not that I've ever seen it.)

(Please note: it's Feivel, dammit. Now go away. And don't comment saying that if I didn't mention it you wouldn't come to this blog, because someone searched Last. Week. and found my blog. I have NEVER written about Feivel except to wonder who he is and why people find my blog.)

As for Dominic, I never did figure out who put the lyrics on my blog, (Johnny? Poly? Tay?) but I am here to help, so here they are: Dominic The Donkey Lyrics. Jiggity jig. Word.

*Diane Sawyer clevage pics -- OK, there are soooo many people who/whom I ...oh never mind.

*do you now iny kid turkey songs? (sic) -- aren't kids goats? No, eye due knot.

*display photos funeral wake ...um, I hate the idea of taking a photo of someone in their coffin. Is that what this is about? Creeeeepy.

*shamus I drank the wine and threw up --I laughed at this one, because it sounds like a note I almost wrote to him about Julie's latest party, but whatever... drink lots of water starting at midnight, and you'll be greatful in the morning. Words to live by.

*black cloud airplane holter daniel mom dad cook bag fast up sky -- wordy, and 128 results... why is my blog first? There's a whole "Lost" vibe to this one. Except for the cook bag. Which brings me to my next searc...

*how to sew earbags (this must mean that people actually DO wear them -eeek)

*de la la la la la la paper -- uh, ok.

*Herbie the Dentist song. Um, is it Hermie? I think I dissed Herbie last week. It's Hermie. Which of course is from Rudolph.

So, "Why am I such a misfit?" No one knows.

But google loves me, this I know. Yes, google loves me - the searchers tell me so.

Birthday of the day

Happy Birthday to Bill Nye the Science Guy.

Bill! Bill! Bill! Bill!

Yeah, I love him.

Catalogues, part two

As I have mentioned I am being buried alive in catalogs this holiday season. Today's catalog is from The Smithsonian.

This pearl necklace is pretty, and I would buy it for someone, but I honestly could make it for half the price. If even that much.

I am not sure why someone would buy a miniature boudoir. Seriously - if you have $450 to spend on a full set of teeny tiny bedroom furniture isn't even the right scale for Barbie to get some action, just use that money to pay my damn car payment this month. (It's not even that much - I will let you take me to dinner.)

There were a lot of penguins in this catalog. The come off as downright adorable when compared to this Buddha wall sculpture. It would NOT work in my family room. Just saying.

For the cat lover in your life, I have these beauties. (I am NOT a cat person. They're hideous. I had a clock just like this when I was little. Eeesh. Maybe that's why I'm not a cat person.)

Actually, I like this shawl. But I'm not buying it. It doesn't really go with my jeans/sneakers business casual look. Pretty though. So is this dragonfly umbrella which I actually like.

This warrior is what I'm getting for Johnny V. Just because. Well, ok, because it looks like him.

Since I'm placing an order, I'll get this panda becuase I have a friend who loves them (...you know who you are - act surprised, 'k ???)

I need to buy this Conquistador Stallion Bust. I just do. Shamus, do you like it?

You can get crabs anywhere nowadays. Be careful.

A mullet is more than a hairdo

Who knew a mullet was a FISH? Oh, the things I learn from my online friends.

(You just had to be there. Apparently I *am* a damn yankee. Haha! Well, butter my biscuits.)




Yaaaaaaay! Quality family time!

In honor of the impending doom, er, holiday, I propose a game.

Let's talk turkey. You *KNOW* that someone you'll dine with over the next few days is a turkey. Here are some examples of what I mean:

• That uncle who hugs you a little too close... yechhh. Bonus points for boys.
• That sibling-in-law who pulls your spouse aside to say "you still owe us $$ for xx" when didn't know we owed money for xx in the first place, because we offered to pay our share initially and sibling said no, no, no, I don't want your money.
• The relative who campaigns fiercely that the holiday MUST be spent together ON THE EXACT DATE and then is 2 hours late to your gathering because they're trying to be in 12 places at once.... because they do that with EVERY branch of their family.
• The relative who plays "my surgery is better than your surgery." Hah! That one will be fun at my family table -- this year both of my siblings had surgery - and so did I. (For the record, I think mine loses.)

Tell me about it. Who was the biggest turkey at your table this year?

Special bonus points will be awarded for the following:

• most bizzare/slutty/slovenly outfit (or, if you receive any such opinions from a family member on your OWN attire... double points... but too late for you Suzy, don't go breaking out that dress that Mom says makes your butt look like J. Lo's. Seriously. I still can't believe she said that.)
• any family confrontation that ultimately involves law enforcement personnel.

Prizes will be awarded. No, really. They will.

Green Eggs and Carly

I am a moderately good cook, but I've had my share of mishaps in the kitchen.

When I was four, I fell while walking through the kitchen, over nothing more than my own two feet. I needed 3 stitches to mend my upper lip. One stitch let go. I needed plastic surgery a few years later to pretty up the scar a little bit. You can still see it if you look closely. Gimme a kiss - I'll show ya!

When I lived in my first apartment, I opened a jar of spaghetti sauce while yakking on the phone, used half, and then for some inexplicable reason put it back in the cupboard. Yummy fuzz was waiting for me the next time I made spaghetti! Of course, I was on the phone THEN too, and dumped it into my nice ground beef before I noticed the mold. D'oh.

I once browned some Rice A Roni in butter, per the package directions. When I say "browned" I mean "burned to a crisp." A spaz moment took over, and I dumped in the water that was waiting. Then I had a black, stickey, gooey wet mess. Nice.

When I was pregnant with my daughter I made some lasagna in disposable foil pans. Great idea. Not so great to bake one without a cookie sheet under it. When I took the pan out of the oven, it flexed and basically fell to the floor and exploded. Since we had carpeting in the kitchen, it was a torture exercise to clean up.

(The day I went into labor, I made this huuuuuuuuge dinner with meatloaf and about 5 side dishes. I can't look at meatloaf, to this very day.)

I bought a pair of knives a few years ago. I was saying something about "I won't cut myself" when of course I did. Badly. Twice. I gave the knives to my brother. I told him the knives had tasted blood, and now they wanted more. He cut himself. I don't know if he still uses them.

Another time I had a friend over. Set fire to the steak I was broiling. Oh yeah. It was up too high or something, and part of the fat had some tiny little flames on it. The rest was still good. But my friend dressed up my son in his Halloween fireman outfit and sent him out to ask me if dinner was ready.

Another time I cooked a pot of Kraft Mac n cheese for the kids. Then I broiled a steak. I managed not to set it on fire. But I took the big broiler pan out, (the kind that has a top, with slits in it, and a lower pan) and set it on the stove lid I had been using. The stove lid that, unfortunately, was still on "high". The grease that had dripped off the steak caught fire in the broiler pan. Now, THAT was more exciting... four inch high flames. We lucked out. While we were saying "oh shit, what are we supposed to sprinkle on this?" it put itself out.... not much grease in the pan. No new cabinets for me that day.

Somehow I think this would be a mini disaster. I'd flail that thing around, and then knock something flying. Or knock myself unconscious.

So, no, I'm not cooking this holiday. I prefer to make a Christmas roast, with a good Irish beer, some carrots and potatoes, and not think about 30 side dishes.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone! Don't forget to take all that shit outta the turkey before it goes in the oven. And for God's sake, don't deep fry it unless you watched Alton Brown's entire show on how to do that right.

Solitaire

Here... play this:

http://www.nbc.com/The_Office/justforfun/solitaire.shtml

because the Office won't be on this week. Sniffle.

And don't forget to fix your recording of Grey's, 10 minutes longer this week. Arrrgh.

3 Little details

Guess which news has me the most pleased?

1. America collectively finding that a tiny shred of our moral fiber still remains; we gave OJ the double middle finger. Not that I don't think for a minute, that SOMEONE somewhere has a copy of that book, and it will be sold for more than cheap toilet paper is actually worth.


2. Paris puking on a Las Vegas stage. Grey Goose Droppings, as Suzy put it. Yes, Paris apparently watched Jay-Z and drank through his entire show, then took the stage to lipsynch her crappy songs and made a fool of herself once again.... she is just gross beyond compare.


And by the way, read the whole page I linked there. Let's chat about how Will Smith is a jackass. I truly believe no one should home school, unless you are a certified teacher and you live on Bora Bora with no access to real schools. It's pure arrogance to say "I don't want my child to be in a formal school setting because yada yada yada" ....get over yourself.

As a parent of a seemingly "normal" kid who was nevertheless diagnosed as learning disabled, I know the frustration I went through... and I graduated magna cum laude from college, but NOT with a teaching degree... and I have a completely different learning style, and so I was unable to help my child be as successful as she is THIS year, with a consultant teacher's help... a real teacher. Last year... hours of time spent together working on her homework at home. Tears, discouragement and self image issues.... "I'm not very smart"... etc. This year, with the proper tutuoring, she is taking unmodified tests and still shaking out an 85 average. AND she's finishing her homework by 3:30 daily.

Moving on,

3. Suzy will be switching to days in January!!! Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay! No more trying to figure out what she means when she asks me about "tonight" (because it can mean tonight tonight while she's working, or sometimes it can actually mean tomorrow daytime after she works all night... I get so confused.) In general she will be around quite a bit more to get me into trouble at various country music concerts. Um, I mean, to bond, and knit, and stuff.


Did you pick #3? Ding, ding, ding!!! You're a winner!

Problem solvers

I am getting SO tired of the mailman folding my mail in half and shoving five or six catalogs into my small, so-old-it's-not-even-retro mailbox. I can never pry all of it out with one hand, and I am always carrying keys, my briefcase, purse, etc...

I hate getting a billion catalogs that I neither want nor order from. A VERY annoying catalog came today. The name of the company is "problem solvers". Hmmph. I looked all through it and I did not find a maid, self-running washing machine, a magic ATM, or even a cute AND legal age yardboy; nor can I find an elf who can make my kids have straight teeth at no cost to yours truly. (Does Santa still have that little twit Herbie the Dentist locked up somewhere at the North Pole making toys? Really, my kids both have crappy teeth. Send ol' Herbie down thisaway. )

As if I would order any of this:

A tree stand that supposedly you just "drop the tree into the powerful steel grips" and yet the "grips release with a simple twist." Yeah right. I can imagine a crash the first time you try to "drop" in a tree, then quite a bit of swearing trying to get it back out. And really, who wants to take a half dead Christmas tree and spin it a 3/4 turn in the middle of their living room? Needles EVERYWHERE. Plus in July when you're wandering around the attic looking for extra beach towels and you step in that thing, it's gonna be a scene Chevy Chase would have been proud to do.

These champagne glasses can apparently not be put down. Anywhere. They will dribble champagne all over. It's like a shot glass on a really long pointy stick. Who would buy them??? Again, making problems, not solving.

Then there is the nut roaster - yeah, that's really what it's called. So you NEED a special pan to roast nuts? Who eats that many roasted nuts? If the nuts are sticky won't this pan be even harder to clean? I'd throw the damn thing away after one use. That's a problem.

Then there's the Earbags. The name is even damn trademarked. So it's not bad enough your kid will get his ass kicked for wearing these things, but their stupid name is trademarked. Someone paid money so that no one else could invent something and call it Earbags.

These are about the only thing in the catalog I'd actually buy if they weren't $40. I'll just duct tape some cheap little flashlights to the bottoms of the Victoria's Secret slippers Suzy got me. MmmmOK? (By the way right now if you buy a pair of Oh-so-Cute and yet still very warm flannel PJ's right now from Vickie's, the matching slippers are free if you use the discount code "slipper" when ordering. Tell 'em Carly sent you.)

Lastly, we have this monstrosity. Wake to your favorite farm animal. So help me, if I heard a cow noise coming from my nightstand at 5:30 in the morning, I would shit my pants, and that is just NOT how you want to start your mornings.

Just remember, if you're buying something for me this Christmas, I already have enough problems. Buy me a shiny new steel blue metallic Jeep Compass*. Don't forget to activate the built-in Sirius radio.

*Because, "Silly boys, Jeeps are for girls."

Fabulous

It was FUN, really, watching the oral surgeon rip these out of my kid's jaws... the screaming, the blood. I swear there was another one but I didn't find it in the little tooth fairy containers. WTF knows.

Can't someone PLEASE send me away for a spa weekend?

Yoko Effing Ono is 73

I am a little off kilter these days. Not sure why.

For one thing, I am crazy busy. I sang a solo at church on Sunday that I honestly and truly thought I sucked badly at. (We sing the psalm and response and the alleluia and a short verse before the gospel, and each week someone gets a turn at it)

It sounded great at home in front of my piano. But therein lies the problem - my piano is out of tune. When it came time to sing at mass Stanley said "are you ready?" and I said "yes" and he repeated "are you ready?" twice before he actually played my two bars... which is our usual routine, and always makes me laugh and relax. But then a giant fist of karma or something reached out of thin air and tightened around my windpipe. My voice felt thin and flat. I can usually work around this feeling (of panic...) by remembering that the closer I get to the microphone, the less I have to worry about putting out very much volume. So I tried to make it sound as pleasant as I could, but I was just NOT happy with this one.

Eh. No one really listens down there anyway.

So then I had a PTO meeting, which was fun, because I am getting used to random unfounded complaints and people yelling at me, so there were one or two things that make me just look at myself and laugh. (You know, that sensation that you're watching something happen to yourself? That.) No one listens to me THERE either.

Then LAST night I went to the NICU. I took pictures of teeeeny tiny little babies for their moms to use as part of the scrapbooking program. They are SO adorable. The babies, not necessarily their moms. Heh. No, I'm kidding!!

Suzy arrived for her shift while I was there. It was fun to hang out and watch her, which I was able to do since I'm cleared as a volunteer for that unit. All of the proper channels, and I never actually touch the bambinos myself. She talks to the babies, and if she's doing something like wash their face or dress them, she answers herself in "their" little voice. (Think high pitched, cartoonish, feisty character voices)

Today... nothing. I have NO PLACE TO GO TONIGHT. Yeeehaw.

There are only 46 days left in this year. I have SO much stuff to do in those 46 days. Ick. I'd better get to it. Thanks for the music suggestions and birthday wishes, everyone!!

The booby prize

... is my 9 year old son's latest favorite expression to laugh hysterically at, and repeat over and over.

If only I could hang out with HIM all day, instead of certain persons at my paying job... sigh. He's far more amusing.

I did order myself a shiny new iPod nano today... blue, though, not red. I used the money I earned on the necklace I made. (Plus my birthday money...)

So please, I ask you, comment with 3 songs you think I need to download to my new blue iPod. Title, artist, and warn me if it's techno (:::wink:::)

Quick notes

I'm going to sew this for Suzy because she's working eleventy bajillion hours this Christmas.



This Thursday I get to take my kid to the dental surgeon to yank out more of her unwilling babyteeth. Good times, something to look forward to.

My butt hurts... no, I did not buy an iGallop... but I did download a podcast by Robert Ullrey based on the Couch to 5K in 12 weeks, or a book named something like that. Robert talked me through a 30 minute workout that was (1 minute running, 90 seconds walking fast) x 8 and I have to say

it

almost

killed

me.


And not just because he used techno either. Haha.

Not that type o' cowgirl...

I am so gettting this ...not... but I do want my own treadmill.

The running thing is going fairly well considering this week I ate out every day for various meetings & celebrations... with choir, and my NICU volunteering leaving no time for running in the evenings... eeeesh. My coworkers took me to The Cheesecake Factory, which has ridiculously good food but there were about 3,000 anchovies in my caesar salad. Nevertheless... great food.

A guy from work made a remark that my jeans looked baggy. Wheeee! (I thanked him and then thought "Wait... did I just thank someone for looking at my butt?" How pathetic. I am so clueless sometimes.)

I hope to come up with enough funds from my relatives via birthday cards, to order my shiny new iPod this weekend. (So get ready, Poly!) It will probably be red, but it will DEFINITELY never have any songs from High School Musical or Hillary Duff on it.

Anyway...Happy Birthday to Myself

These two things pretty much sum up my mood these days.... the meaning of life is what you make it... don't be afraid to dream.



You can spend your whole life building
something from nothing
One storm can come and blow it all away
Build it anyway
You can chase a dream
that seems so out of reach
and you know it might not ever come your way,
but dream it anyway

God is great, but sometimes life ain’t good,
and when I pray..it don’t always turn out like I think it should…
but I do it anyway, I do it anyway

This world’s gone crazy and it’s hard to believe
that tomorrow will be better than today,
believe it anyway

You can love someone with all your heart,
for all the right reasons,
and in a moment they can choose to walk away,
love ‘em anyway

You can pour your soul out singing a song you believe in,
that tomorrow they’ll forget you ever sang,
sing it anyway….yeah sing it anyway…..yeah

yeah I’ll sing, I’ll dream, I’ll love… anyway

~ as sung by Martina McBride

It was fun while it lasted

Today is my last day of being 40. Somehow that depresses me more than the last day of 39. Not sure why. (Wait, I know, ...no big huge party this weekend.)

My friend Chris Callaghan lost his election, of course (the words "sacrificial lamb" have been bandied about at various times during his campaign). His concession speech was vintage Chris - jokes like "Well, I guess my wife is going to have to continue to drive herself around." The thing that annoys me is that he was making jokes the entire time, and yet the Times Useless showed a photo of him looking incredibly downcast. Hello! Tell the actual story... not the one you want to portray (of a befuddled, downcast, losing candidate....)

But if you voted, that's GOOD. The process works. Not always 100% smoothly...(WTF, why is it so hard to have electronic voting machines that work right, when I can buy a corndog and a pepsi damn near anywhere in the country with a tiny piece of plastic...)

If you didn't vote, get your act together and vote next year. When I'm 41. :::sulk::::

VOTE!

Today I will vote (I always do).

I will vote for Chris Callaghan because I think Hevesi is a complete crook who needs to GO. If you are in NY state, join me in voting for an honest man who IS qualified and has been endorsed by a number of the major newspapers in the state. He's got a shot... let's make it happen!

SpongeCarly SodaPants

Little miss Carly went out to lunch today. I went over to Central Ave and went to the supermarket. Where the made-fresh-that-day Sushi section USED to be, there was other stuff. Not sushi.

Strike one. When I want sushi, and can't have it, pouting occurs.

Walked across the parking lot to a bagel place. Mr. Not As Funny As He Thinks Manager made his usual jokes. (He's a nice enough person, but the 20th time that someone tells you it's fifty dollars for a buttered bagel and a soda....) Okay, so I have no sense of humor when you are delaying my lunch. Strike two.

I walked back to my car with a bag containing my salad and my bagel. In my other hand I had a soda - in a paper cup, not styrofoam, and I must have squeezed it or bumped it somehow when I was setting it into my cupholder.

All I know is that it exploded. The top came off and ice and soda gushed everywhere in a black, carbonated, icecube-laden waterfall. All over me, on my sweater and my jeans. All over the leather seat of my car. All over the cupholder and the stick shift.

All over my Sirius radio.

My radio that I *JUST* replaced.

I watched, frozen for one split second while I waited for sparks. (The radio was on because it has this pause feature that will let you get out of the car to run a quick errand, get back in the car and keep listening to whatever song was playing when you left.)

Impressive. The little sucker seems watertight. Not only did it not short out, turn off, or explode my car via some freak chain reaction, it retained the exact song I had been listening to and everything.

This still left the problem of soda everywhere.

(Game forfeited...due to unsportsmanlike conduct and excessive FOUL language....)

With plenty of cussing I cleaned up what I could using napkins and the blanket I keep in the back for my kids (recall... leather seats... whiny cold children...)

On the plus side, when I was trying to take the radio off the spot where I'd anchored it with velcro, it lifted up the whole piece of plastic around the stick shift. So, I could clean it with my armorall wipes. You would not believe how gross that was. Sticky soda and crumbs everywhere.

The obvious thing to do would be to mount the radio differently. Let me tell you, the suction cup device seems pretty useless to me. So I'm left with velcro tape, and not quite having the right flat surface close enough to me so that I can glance at the radio quickly and hit the desired button while I'm driving. Very frustrating.

So, I cleaned it up, and went back to work with soda all over my hip and upper leg. I'm sure it was OBVIOUSLY wet... because it was cold, damp, and just generally nasty. Fun times.

Soda's bad for me anyway. I really need to give it up.

Crop You, Honey

I went to a lovely retreat this weekend with Suzy. She spoiled me with cute Pink flannel pajamas from Victoria's as an early birthday gift. And they fit! Wheeeeee! I used to not be able to fit their stuff.

It was a scrapbook gathering, so we brought tons of stuff and only worked on 1/3 of it. Such is the habit of a scrapbooker. (I stayed up until 1 a.m. and woke up around 5, talked with Suzy for an hour, and then got back to my table around 7....) Suzy made some ADORABLE things with some of the pictures from my trip to Ocean city. I may have to scan some and fuzz out the kids' faces so other scrapbookers can steal (yes, I'm looking at you, B.)

The lady in charge of the event insisted on playing TECHNO, and did so at HIGH volume, which is sooo conducive to relaxing and being artistic. Gaaaah! I ended up using my headphones and portable cd player (yeah, daughter would NOT let me take the iPod, sniffle) after InCharge actually TOOK OFF the cd we were playing, in mid song (Suzy took it up there when the cd player had been silent about 20 minutes) and InCharge said directly to me that it made her want to kill herself. I swear, that's what she said.

Rude, much? I wanted to say, (fully channeling Poly) but we can listen to a technosong with the same two phrases repeated 10,000 times without slitting OUR wrists, so what's the deal? It was Tim "my albums all go platinum" McGraw....wench. It was obvious she just didn't like ANY country music since she did the same thing with another completely different country artist a while later (after we had listened patiently to two more techno CD's. Gritting our teeth politely the entire time.*) Tolerance, darling. It's a gift. The classic part was that at the beginning of the "crop" she had said "remember, if you don't like a song, in four minutes it will be over." Poly would label this woman "entitled".

*However, I did get a hilarious lesson in how to dance "techno" from Suzy (screw in a lightbulb, mop the floor, rock the baby... mime various actions....)

Full moon musings

Do you make the rules in your home, or chafe at them?

In every marriage there seems to be one who would like to see the plates all facing the same way in the dishwasher, and one who can't remember which way they are supposed to face.

One who wonders "why can't Spouse remember this? It's so logical. Face the way that the streaming water is coming from, so they get clean". One who wonders why he/she has to hear about propelled water, when the whole damn thing fills up with soapy water anyway. (Or, can't remember what feels like rule #485. )

Or maybe it's not the dishes. It's the laundry, or the toys (being put away or children have to be children and the house will get mess) or the lunchboxes or cleaning the toilets. There are countless things that can be used as the foundation for the subtle ongoing tug of war that is status quo of some marriages.

Why do we have these arguments?

Are they struggles for control? The debates of two people who really should not be living as roommates because of completely different philosophies of life? Just simple stress?

Some people plan. They attack their goals and todos with vigor every morning. They abhor waste, be it time or money. Some people feel pulled in too many directions. They react, rather than driving the agenda of their lives forward. They're always trying to catch up.

I look at the moon, and I wonder. Am I the one who's crazy?

Laugh of the day

My friend sent me a picture of Nolan. He's adorable! He's wearing a mint green knitted hat.

My daughter saw the picture and said "Wait... in Wisconsin, they give green hats to baby boys?"

It struck me as completely funny because she was just SO confused. Her next question, was, what color do girls get?

Yellow, I said with a straight face. But don't tell...it's a secret code.