I don't finish things well.
Today I made a list on a post-it note of things that I have been procrastinating on/about for a while now:
1. The biggie - I have this counted cross stitch sampler I started (before my first kid was born, as far as I can remember I bought this at least 12 years ago) It is all 50 states and this is what it should look like (finished)
this is what it does look like - (not finished) . It bugs me that it's not done but I seem to be unable or unwilling to start working on it again. Mr. Carly likes to say that by the time I finish it Puerto Rico will be a state. Isn't he just the funniest guy? (not)
2. I inherited all my great aunt Helena's photos. Awesome things like photos of my great great grandparents, like this... my great grandmother is the girl on the left and those are her siblings. So in otherwords, Helena's mother, and her sister Augusta, and their brothers, whose names I have written down SOMEWHERE, and that piece of paper/ family tree is with my scrapbooking stuff.
Ms. Carly Scrapbooker had great visions of organizing all of the photos (including 3 boxes of slides - Helena traveled around the world in her lifetime and took slides everywhere. I had this idea that I could print a few from each trip and include them in the album. Mmmmyeahright.) Haven't looked at that stuff in a while. It is sort of merged into the scrapbook goodies I have accumulated and I'm not touching those lately either. When I first started scrapbooking I had this vision of doing a family album and one for each of my kids and let me tell you, that's a bad idea. I can not keep ONE up to date much less three sets.
3. Jewelry - I learned how to make beaded necklaces/ bracelets, loved it, bought some beads and made a few pieces, ( including but not limited to pink, purple, & the fish ) and now I have a bunch of beads all bought, organized and sitting untouched. I've made and sold exactly one piece and I had a couple of other people interested in buying "something" from me.
4. Recipes- I had this vision of taking the cookbook magazines and the loose recipes I've torn out over the years and organizing them into one or more binders so that I don't have chicken, hamburgers, and spaghetti over and over and over. Said piles are still in the bottom of the hutch in my kitchen. No links here, I bet you're bored with them :o)
5. Little painting projects. You know, go to the arts & craft store, buy something wood and paint it to decorate. I have a shelf that I need to paint for my son's trophies. I have some ornaments I was going to do with the kids to give as Christmas gifts (they're some sort of plaster that I can use the acrylic paint on, and not have to fire them)
What is the lesson here?
a. Carly's husband is very patient with her and her piles of artsy-craftsy stuff that she buys and doesn't really finish/use up. Someone called me a collector once. I love to buy the stuff, I just never get around to using it. Bad, bad, bad.
b. I need to win the megamillions lotto (sorry Sarah, we here in Albany are going to win it this week but I will send you a nice housewarming present), then I need to build a big house with plenty of storage and a large studio/workroom for some of these projects, and then I need to quit this pesky job that keeps me too busy to spend time on my projects, and hire someone to come to my new house and make me spend time doing these things. Kinda like a personal trainer. A personal anti-procrastinator who will cut my pinkie off each time I look at the computer when I am supposed to be working on a project.
c. Failing that, I need to incorporate regular time to spend on this stuff instead of ... hmmm... well, blogging and reading other people's blogs quite so much.
Is there a self-help group or a "steps" program for this?This disorganization and failure to focus on end goal also affects me in other ways - failure to budget my money effectively, and so on. Geez, now I feel like a total loser. Do I have ADD or something? I'm not even kidding.
P.S. - I got Rob Thomas' new CD, "...something to be" and it's awesome but I didn't finish my post about it yet....
Thursday, April 21, 2005
Wednesday, April 20, 2005
Tuesday, April 19, 2005
Interesting... or perhaps not...
So, we have a new Pope. I was hoping for a black lesbian but those guys have no sense of humour. It's an old white guy. Surprise!
Seriously, I saw a tiny snippet of footage of him celebrating mass and holding up the Eucharist, and despite my cynical bitchy mood today it was very moving. I guess it's the whole "his life's dedication to this work has brought him to the ultimate pinnacle" thing, and that he was ordained a priest by someone who was ordained by someone who.... all the way back to Jesus. Think on that for a moment.
This latenight rambling is brought to you for the following reasons:
Seriously, I saw a tiny snippet of footage of him celebrating mass and holding up the Eucharist, and despite my cynical bitchy mood today it was very moving. I guess it's the whole "his life's dedication to this work has brought him to the ultimate pinnacle" thing, and that he was ordained a priest by someone who was ordained by someone who.... all the way back to Jesus. Think on that for a moment.
This latenight rambling is brought to you for the following reasons:
- MY PC IS FINALLY ALL HOOKED UP. The speakers sound SO good. Of course, the room looks like a bomb went off because the old pc is scattered everywhere, but this is awesome. Except the printer is giant, so it's sort of up on the top of the cabinet side of the whole desk and looks pretty bad. I need to stand on a chair to actually SEE the display/ buttons on the printer. Great. Will need to fine tune the setup - but Mr. C just told me (yes, now that it's ALL TOGETHER) that he might switch this desk for another one he got from his brother with more drawers and such. Fabulous.
- I don't have to go to work tomorrow. Actually I'm sure they were probably hoping I'd show up but I have to burn a vacation day because my kids have spring break and
A) I'm a loser who can't afford a cruise, not that THAT is a good idea recently, and
B) I have no damn babysitter because the girl I thought would do it has a 2nd job and they are running short this week so she bagged me. - I had three sodas with dinner. If you have met me in person you know that Me + Soda is not a Good Thing. Me + three sodas, well I am high, basically. We went out for a "quick bite" at a local bar sort of place and they had a meeting going on in the other room so our dinner lasted two hours. Arrrgh.
- I wanted to brag to all of the girls that I had lunch with Shamus AND Johnny. Johnny drove the convertible and made fun of me because I didn't want my hair messed up. I have to say it was nice to just lean back, close my eyes, feel the sun on my face, wind in my hair, yada yada and let someone else drive while I just relax for five minutes. Because, you know, the leaning back and closing my eyes thing JUST doesn't work if I am driving.
Shamus was ranting about a really stupid story in the local paper, and didn't you say you blogged it Shammy? Where is that? We saw a really icky woman with too many tattoos and Johnny started talking about people who peel the top layer of their skin off in patterns so that the scars form in those patterns. This is something I did not need to know.
That's about it, goodnight kids!
Monday, April 18, 2005
Eff you hackers
So, I'm working on setting up the new pc and it has firewall software which in the past five minutes has blocked at least 5 attempts to ping my pc. Now I know why my old one sucked so bad. My old PC's a hacker's whore and I didn't even know it.
I should explain that I *DID* have a firewall on it but it was controlled by BSB (big stupid bank, AKA my employer) and seemed to only block ME from doing things, not anyone out on the big bad Internet, so we quarreled often and I shut it down frequently .... so I'm sure that's when the party started.
So eff you, Mr Guy In Peking trying to use MY new shiny pc to send spam around the world. I'm done with you.
I should explain that I *DID* have a firewall on it but it was controlled by BSB (big stupid bank, AKA my employer) and seemed to only block ME from doing things, not anyone out on the big bad Internet, so we quarreled often and I shut it down frequently .... so I'm sure that's when the party started.
So eff you, Mr Guy In Peking trying to use MY new shiny pc to send spam around the world. I'm done with you.
Into the Night
Erik and his post about church camps just brought up an old ghost from my past. This one's going to end with kind of a downer however, so I appologize in advance.
It was probably either the summer that I was 12 or 13, so I was just out of 7th grade, let's say. I was Lutheran then and I went to church camp for one week every summer, right after school let out. There were kids from various Lutheran churches all around the Albany area who attended that particular week.
The camp was named Camp Medusa and it was in the Catskills, just below Albany. It was a crappy little place with no hot water in the bathrooms, and log cabins where we froze our butts off because the mountains get cold at night even in the summer.The "lake" could fit 2 or 3 times over on your average football field and I didn't really go into it much because I couldn't swim.
(Oh, now THERE's a story, 'How I almost drowned in the Bahamas spring break of my senior year in a cockroach ridden motel because some stupid kid pushed me in the pool as a jok and the real joke was that I couldn't swim")
Anyway, there was this one guy. His name was Jimmy. He was just amazing to me. Really tall, probably almost 6 feet tall even though he was about 14 or 15. Blonde hair and blue eyes you could absolutely swim in. He was a completely adorable guy and a total flirt and would walk around singing. There was a song that was very popular at the time, and the chorus included "why dont' we steal away, into the night?" He sang that song walking from the cabins to the main hall, from the main hall to the "lake".... everywhere he went he would sing that song because he knew the girls loved it.
Not that he noticed me, of course. I was younger, and rather plain - glasses, long brown hair, and dorky clothes, and there were prettier girls his own age. It's probably good that he didn't notice me, because I would have been putty in his hands. I had a complete and total crush on him, from afar.
About a month after we went to camp my friend Karen called me and told me that Jimmy had stabbed his younger sister and killed her.
I never met the sister, but of course I was horrified. I was terrified by the thought that he had been arrested, and heartbroken to know that he was in jail and his life was basically over. Since I was 12, and there was no internet (not in my house anyway and besides this was about '77) I never heard another word about him. Karen never did either - he wasn't really a part of our own church, and so we had no ties to anyone in his community who knew anything about it. I knew I would never see him again.
Was he drunk at the time? Stoned? Insane? Don't know. I don't know if he went to jail - I don't know if he's out (on some sort of defense plea, or if he served whatever time he was sentenced... )you know?? But all of these years later, it still makes me sad, to think that in one moment, he could go from this absolutely wonderful person to someone who had killed his own sister. I wouldn't want to think about what he might be like now, all of these years later. I would rather think of him as he was, at camp.
The other day I was shopping and I heard the song he walked around singing at camp. Isn't it amazing how an old song can make you think of a very specific peson, dredging up a memory you hadn't touched in decades?
Why don't we steal away... into the night?
It was probably either the summer that I was 12 or 13, so I was just out of 7th grade, let's say. I was Lutheran then and I went to church camp for one week every summer, right after school let out. There were kids from various Lutheran churches all around the Albany area who attended that particular week.
The camp was named Camp Medusa and it was in the Catskills, just below Albany. It was a crappy little place with no hot water in the bathrooms, and log cabins where we froze our butts off because the mountains get cold at night even in the summer.The "lake" could fit 2 or 3 times over on your average football field and I didn't really go into it much because I couldn't swim.
(Oh, now THERE's a story, 'How I almost drowned in the Bahamas spring break of my senior year in a cockroach ridden motel because some stupid kid pushed me in the pool as a jok and the real joke was that I couldn't swim")
Anyway, there was this one guy. His name was Jimmy. He was just amazing to me. Really tall, probably almost 6 feet tall even though he was about 14 or 15. Blonde hair and blue eyes you could absolutely swim in. He was a completely adorable guy and a total flirt and would walk around singing. There was a song that was very popular at the time, and the chorus included "why dont' we steal away, into the night?" He sang that song walking from the cabins to the main hall, from the main hall to the "lake".... everywhere he went he would sing that song because he knew the girls loved it.
Not that he noticed me, of course. I was younger, and rather plain - glasses, long brown hair, and dorky clothes, and there were prettier girls his own age. It's probably good that he didn't notice me, because I would have been putty in his hands. I had a complete and total crush on him, from afar.
About a month after we went to camp my friend Karen called me and told me that Jimmy had stabbed his younger sister and killed her.
I never met the sister, but of course I was horrified. I was terrified by the thought that he had been arrested, and heartbroken to know that he was in jail and his life was basically over. Since I was 12, and there was no internet (not in my house anyway and besides this was about '77) I never heard another word about him. Karen never did either - he wasn't really a part of our own church, and so we had no ties to anyone in his community who knew anything about it. I knew I would never see him again.
Was he drunk at the time? Stoned? Insane? Don't know. I don't know if he went to jail - I don't know if he's out (on some sort of defense plea, or if he served whatever time he was sentenced... )you know?? But all of these years later, it still makes me sad, to think that in one moment, he could go from this absolutely wonderful person to someone who had killed his own sister. I wouldn't want to think about what he might be like now, all of these years later. I would rather think of him as he was, at camp.
The other day I was shopping and I heard the song he walked around singing at camp. Isn't it amazing how an old song can make you think of a very specific peson, dredging up a memory you hadn't touched in decades?
Why don't we steal away... into the night?
Friday, April 15, 2005
This is going to take a long time...
In my quest to improve my (apparently shitty, I had no idea how bad...) music tastes I am listening to Music Choice / Hit List (how much do I love Time Warner? digital cable and DVR's are awesome....)
I get 3 Doors Down and Good Charlotte (heh) but who the hell is Akon and why the hell does he sing an old Bobby Vinton song with a Chipmunk? All I got from Google (my .5 seconds worth of research at most) is that "sometimes it takes a singing thug poet to make you realize that you aren’t the only one that feels certain ways…" Mmmmmokayyyyy. http://www.musicremedy.com gave up that little gem.
On the plus side even *I* know that Hilary Duff singing "Hater" is about Lindsay Lohan. It still sucks, but at least I know what that one is about.
PS - YAY! Tax day cometh!!! Sunday afternoon I rip the desk apart and finish setting up the new PC. Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!
I get 3 Doors Down and Good Charlotte (heh) but who the hell is Akon and why the hell does he sing an old Bobby Vinton song with a Chipmunk? All I got from Google (my .5 seconds worth of research at most) is that "sometimes it takes a singing thug poet to make you realize that you aren’t the only one that feels certain ways…" Mmmmmokayyyyy. http://www.musicremedy.com gave up that little gem.
On the plus side even *I* know that Hilary Duff singing "Hater" is about Lindsay Lohan. It still sucks, but at least I know what that one is about.
PS - YAY! Tax day cometh!!! Sunday afternoon I rip the desk apart and finish setting up the new PC. Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!
Maybe you CAN have your cake and eat it too... or is it pie?
I have a little story for you. But first, did I TELL you I love Stefanie on Survivor? I do believe I have, multiple times. I want her to win SO badly - I am a total dork but yes I cried just a little when she got the letter telling her to go join the other tribe. Ok, maybe it was because I was drinking a big glass of wine as usual per viewing Survivor - but it was a great show last night. I actually think jumping down for that pizza was smart. She had to know that everyone is trying to get her on their side so they're not going to vote against her. So my girl got half a pizza pie - that is a serious calorie boost, while the others got what - one cookie dipped in milk? Of course, she probably got sick... you don't go from starving to half a pizza easily. She looks so good, all tan and lean muscle - damn, I gotta go get me stranded on an island somewhere.
So anyway, the funniest thing happened yesterday at work. I have this meeting I go to, twice a week. It's this sort of project Conception And Kickoff / Evaluation meeting where projects are initiated and estimated. We call it CAKE, but you can call it PIE, call it whatever you want.
It's a giant conference call. There are about 25 people on these calls, representing various areas of the company and we are gathered to review new projects, and determine whether the team we represent needs to be involved in said project.
Yesterday this guy - we will call him Pat - was first on the agenda. Right after he started giving an overview of his project, I noticed something wierd.
Heavy breathing.
A woman's heavy breathing. A woman who was (supposed to be) listening in on the conference call.
Clearly someone WAS having her cake and eating it too. Or at least it REALLY sounded that way - I swear. Lots of heavy breathing and even one or two slight hints of soft laughter. I got this vision in my head of someone dialed into the meeting, but at home in their bed and not Home Alone, either.... my skin was crawling.
So there's poor Pat, talking away (did ANYONE listen to him? I could NOT keep my mind on what he was saying.) And Ray, the facilitator for the meeting, either didn't notice, or couldn't stop laughing long enough to do his usual "we seem to be getting some background noise, would everyone please make sure you have muted your phone" spiel.
After maybe a minute and a half of this, Pat interrupted himself in mid sentence to blurt out "Would whoever is breathing heavy into the phone please mute your phone? I just can't concentrate!"
Suddenly, there was silence.
You know how a brief moment can seem to last a VERY long time? Bingo.
Pat cleared his throat and went on with what he was saying. I was ABSOLUTELY dying.
You just never know when a boring day at the office will turn blogworthy.
So anyway, the funniest thing happened yesterday at work. I have this meeting I go to, twice a week. It's this sort of project Conception And Kickoff / Evaluation meeting where projects are initiated and estimated. We call it CAKE, but you can call it PIE, call it whatever you want.
It's a giant conference call. There are about 25 people on these calls, representing various areas of the company and we are gathered to review new projects, and determine whether the team we represent needs to be involved in said project.
Yesterday this guy - we will call him Pat - was first on the agenda. Right after he started giving an overview of his project, I noticed something wierd.
Heavy breathing.
A woman's heavy breathing. A woman who was (supposed to be) listening in on the conference call.
Clearly someone WAS having her cake and eating it too. Or at least it REALLY sounded that way - I swear. Lots of heavy breathing and even one or two slight hints of soft laughter. I got this vision in my head of someone dialed into the meeting, but at home in their bed and not Home Alone, either.... my skin was crawling.
So there's poor Pat, talking away (did ANYONE listen to him? I could NOT keep my mind on what he was saying.) And Ray, the facilitator for the meeting, either didn't notice, or couldn't stop laughing long enough to do his usual "we seem to be getting some background noise, would everyone please make sure you have muted your phone" spiel.
After maybe a minute and a half of this, Pat interrupted himself in mid sentence to blurt out "Would whoever is breathing heavy into the phone please mute your phone? I just can't concentrate!"
Suddenly, there was silence.
You know how a brief moment can seem to last a VERY long time? Bingo.
Pat cleared his throat and went on with what he was saying. I was ABSOLUTELY dying.
You just never know when a boring day at the office will turn blogworthy.
Wednesday, April 13, 2005
Music
So, I've heard some new music lately. Well, new to me at least. Allow me to ramble... even though my pc is wheezing like crazy. (Old PC, Mr Carly still not done with taxes 'cause this old lady called last night and he was hoping to not do hers this year but now he hassssssss toooo....ugh....)
I reeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeally like Will Smith's new song. (Stretch? ) I listen to the local college radio station - so that I don't become a complete fossil. Plus, they play music. What a concept -- I'm not forced to listen to some moron babble. I turn up my car stereo (in my boring four-door sedan) to insane levels when that W.S. song comes on. Well, it's not like I thumpa thunka thunka through the neighborhood or anything. It's a Taurus, for crying out loud.
Rob Thomas - anytime, anywhere; is his new album out yet?
Bowling for soup - new song, Almost...excellent song ("I almost wrote you a song today, then I tore it all up, and threw it away"... haven't we all been there?)
My sister, who is exponentially cooler than me (she basically yelled at me last year for buying an Orange County Choppers denim jacket -- well, I think what she didn't like is when I put it on the collar ended up kind of half up and she thought I did that on purpose... listen, I know THAT's no good....) anyway, my sister loaned me Gwen Stefani's new cd. I'm a little tired of the Fiddler song, damn na na na na na na, but the Holla Back Girl song is good. Except, on the cd it's not scrubbed. So every third word is SHIT (instead of the Uhhnnnhuhhhh you hear on the radio stations that play whitenoise versions of songs with potty-mouth phrases, as we say...) can't be playing a song that says SHIT 30 times with the kids in the car. Oy vey.
Mariah Carey, I hate you. I don't like the "It's like that y'all" (or yo or whatever the hell she's saying) crap. What is the deal with calling herself Mimi??? Please make it stop. I loved you when you came out with Vision of Love, it's about 16 years ago but I loved it, just like I loved the entire Faith CD by George Michael (the third version of I want your sex is best.... It's late, time for bed, so I sit, and I wait, for that gin and tonic to go to your head... I know, it’s a devious plan, but it’s the only way that I know To get those big bad car keys out of your hand ... You know, that I remain a gentle man, but even so there’s only so much a gentleman can stand. Sleep with me, oh sleep with me tonight....)
JLo, and I don't care that you don't call yourself that anymore, go sit over with Mimi, please. Take that damn saxophone player with you. Or is that Wit choo?
Cierra... I like your songs even though you are so skinny you cause me to want to slap you. I don't believe those rumors that you are/were a man but it would make me feel better about how damn skinny you are. I bet you never were pregnant with a 9lb (almost 10) baby and so big you couldn't tie your own shoes, huh? Bitch. I will be there to laugh at you someday, I promise.
Honestly - that's it, all I can think of. Well, I accidentally heard a new song by the Backstreet boys. Oh, the horror.
So that's about it, kids. Recommend me some new music to listen to, because I've got that 3 month free trial of something that came on my new pc and I'm ready to download the world. I *KNOW* I don't have great taste in music - please take pity on me and offer up some names.
I reeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeally like Will Smith's new song. (Stretch? ) I listen to the local college radio station - so that I don't become a complete fossil. Plus, they play music. What a concept -- I'm not forced to listen to some moron babble. I turn up my car stereo (in my boring four-door sedan) to insane levels when that W.S. song comes on. Well, it's not like I thumpa thunka thunka through the neighborhood or anything. It's a Taurus, for crying out loud.
Rob Thomas - anytime, anywhere; is his new album out yet?
Bowling for soup - new song, Almost...excellent song ("I almost wrote you a song today, then I tore it all up, and threw it away"... haven't we all been there?)
My sister, who is exponentially cooler than me (she basically yelled at me last year for buying an Orange County Choppers denim jacket -- well, I think what she didn't like is when I put it on the collar ended up kind of half up and she thought I did that on purpose... listen, I know THAT's no good....) anyway, my sister loaned me Gwen Stefani's new cd. I'm a little tired of the Fiddler song, damn na na na na na na, but the Holla Back Girl song is good. Except, on the cd it's not scrubbed. So every third word is SHIT (instead of the Uhhnnnhuhhhh you hear on the radio stations that play whitenoise versions of songs with potty-mouth phrases, as we say...) can't be playing a song that says SHIT 30 times with the kids in the car. Oy vey.
Mariah Carey, I hate you. I don't like the "It's like that y'all" (or yo or whatever the hell she's saying) crap. What is the deal with calling herself Mimi??? Please make it stop. I loved you when you came out with Vision of Love, it's about 16 years ago but I loved it, just like I loved the entire Faith CD by George Michael (the third version of I want your sex is best.... It's late, time for bed, so I sit, and I wait, for that gin and tonic to go to your head... I know, it’s a devious plan, but it’s the only way that I know To get those big bad car keys out of your hand ... You know, that I remain a gentle man, but even so there’s only so much a gentleman can stand. Sleep with me, oh sleep with me tonight....)
JLo, and I don't care that you don't call yourself that anymore, go sit over with Mimi, please. Take that damn saxophone player with you. Or is that Wit choo?
Cierra... I like your songs even though you are so skinny you cause me to want to slap you. I don't believe those rumors that you are/were a man but it would make me feel better about how damn skinny you are. I bet you never were pregnant with a 9lb (almost 10) baby and so big you couldn't tie your own shoes, huh? Bitch. I will be there to laugh at you someday, I promise.
Honestly - that's it, all I can think of. Well, I accidentally heard a new song by the Backstreet boys. Oh, the horror.
So that's about it, kids. Recommend me some new music to listen to, because I've got that 3 month free trial of something that came on my new pc and I'm ready to download the world. I *KNOW* I don't have great taste in music - please take pity on me and offer up some names.
Tuesday, April 12, 2005
F is for...
no... not what you think ...
F is for fascinators. What is a fascinator, you might ask?
It's a really, really ugly hat. Did you SEEEE what Camilla Parker Bowlegged wore with the grey dress the day she got hitched to Charles? The is-it-a-plant, is-it-a-bird creation on her head, I believe, was a fascinator. It might not be, but it reminded me of a story I saw about the Melbourne Cup and fascinators. (Did you ever go crazy trying to remember a word or name that has slipped your mind? That would be me, for the past 3 days, trying to remember the word "fascinator".)
Here is a Google search for you.
Now you have learned something today. You may therefore take the rest of the day off and have a drink on me.
Well, not ON ME, unless the price is right. But you may plant your flag on my map.... look over on the right of this page, below the counter... please.. my solitary flag is so lonely!
F is for fascinators. What is a fascinator, you might ask?
It's a really, really ugly hat. Did you SEEEE what Camilla Parker Bowlegged wore with the grey dress the day she got hitched to Charles? The is-it-a-plant, is-it-a-bird creation on her head, I believe, was a fascinator. It might not be, but it reminded me of a story I saw about the Melbourne Cup and fascinators. (Did you ever go crazy trying to remember a word or name that has slipped your mind? That would be me, for the past 3 days, trying to remember the word "fascinator".)
Here is a Google search for you.
Now you have learned something today. You may therefore take the rest of the day off and have a drink on me.
Well, not ON ME, unless the price is right. But you may plant your flag on my map.... look over on the right of this page, below the counter... please.. my solitary flag is so lonely!
Sunday, April 10, 2005
Wierd foods
OK, kids. This one's a sing-a-long and was inspired by Toren's sharing
What are the oddest foods you don't like, and the wierdest foods you DO like?
Just to esssplain what I'm talkin about... here are my answers for your edification and/or amusement.
I hate (in no particular order): chocolate, peanut butter, coconut, and green peppers, which kind of means I don't like MOST candy, if not all mexican food.
The wierdest thing I like to eat is a regular grilled cheese sandwich, but after it's all cooked I take some grape jelly and spread it on top like it's toast. I once got a grilled cheese at lunch and sort of quietly asked "Do you have any grape jelly back there?" and J C bellows out "Oh my god, are you pregnant or something?" I was, the big jerk, but that had nothing to do with me liking that sandwich, I like it all the time. Besides, I hadn't really TOLD anyone yet. So it sucked all over to have to go "Well, yeah, but..."
Bonus round for Moms: What was your favorite thing to eat while preggers?
For me, it was going to Salty's every Saturday and getting chicken and biscuits, with mashed potatoes on the side. I would order a soup bowl of EXTRA gravy (beyond what they already put on top). Then I would have a fresh strawberry shortcake (another biscuit if you're wondering) and the waitress liked me (no, not in that way, not that there's...) so she would put vanilla ice cream, then the strawberries, then whipped cream. Oh man, I could go eat that meal right now. (It may come as no surprise to those of you who have never met me, that my kids weighed in at 9lbs 3 oz and 9 lbs 12 oz at birth. Of course, my husband is 6'3" and gigundous.)
What are the oddest foods you don't like, and the wierdest foods you DO like?
Just to esssplain what I'm talkin about... here are my answers for your edification and/or amusement.
I hate (in no particular order): chocolate, peanut butter, coconut, and green peppers, which kind of means I don't like MOST candy, if not all mexican food.
The wierdest thing I like to eat is a regular grilled cheese sandwich, but after it's all cooked I take some grape jelly and spread it on top like it's toast. I once got a grilled cheese at lunch and sort of quietly asked "Do you have any grape jelly back there?" and J C bellows out "Oh my god, are you pregnant or something?" I was, the big jerk, but that had nothing to do with me liking that sandwich, I like it all the time. Besides, I hadn't really TOLD anyone yet. So it sucked all over to have to go "Well, yeah, but..."
Bonus round for Moms: What was your favorite thing to eat while preggers?
For me, it was going to Salty's every Saturday and getting chicken and biscuits, with mashed potatoes on the side. I would order a soup bowl of EXTRA gravy (beyond what they already put on top). Then I would have a fresh strawberry shortcake (another biscuit if you're wondering) and the waitress liked me (no, not in that way, not that there's...) so she would put vanilla ice cream, then the strawberries, then whipped cream. Oh man, I could go eat that meal right now. (It may come as no surprise to those of you who have never met me, that my kids weighed in at 9lbs 3 oz and 9 lbs 12 oz at birth. Of course, my husband is 6'3" and gigundous.)
Saturday, April 09, 2005
C is for...
...cookie, not carrot. I grew up listening to "Me Eat Cookie", not "A cookie is a sometimes food." Dammit, the whole point is that Cookie shoves cookies in his mouth and we shouldn't do that! That's why it's funny - because every little kid would love to do EXACTLY what Cookie does whenever he sees a cookie. As a matter of fact I do a pretty good impression of Cookie, Grover, and Kermit. Hi ho!
....Charles Big Ears and Camilla Bowlegged Parker.....go away, I don't buy the "Love Conquers All" spin for one lousy second....
....Catty... the Desperate Housewives stars seem to not be getting along. So help me if they screw this show up because of their egos, I'm going to open up a can of Carly Whoop-Ass on them all. Get over it and try to all get along.
....Coffee / Caffeine... do you know there is a BOOKLET that tells you how to order at Starbucks? My sister is a huge fan of the big S. This is very understandable since she works nights and has to do SOMETHING to stay awake during the day so that she can see family & friends. I laughed while I was skimming the booklet -- apparently you have to specify what size cup, what KIND of cup (are you staying here or leaving with the coffee? China vs disposable) what kind of coffee, what kind of milk, any flavors, etc. For the record, I wanted TEA, and it took at least two minutes just to order that. Earl Grey. A large cup please. Yes, I guess I'll take two tea bags, thanks for suggesting. Can you put a little ice in that? I'm not into scalding myself. No, I don't want ice tea, I still want it to be hot. Caramba!
...computer, which is still not hooked up yet. Damn taxes.
....cantor, which is the person who sings the responsorial psalm as a solo during mass, and which is ME tomorrow, and I'm mighty nervous because I just don't think I'm singing this one right. So please cross your fingers for me.
Ciao!
....Charles Big Ears and Camilla Bowlegged Parker.....go away, I don't buy the "Love Conquers All" spin for one lousy second....
....Catty... the Desperate Housewives stars seem to not be getting along. So help me if they screw this show up because of their egos, I'm going to open up a can of Carly Whoop-Ass on them all. Get over it and try to all get along.
....Coffee / Caffeine... do you know there is a BOOKLET that tells you how to order at Starbucks? My sister is a huge fan of the big S. This is very understandable since she works nights and has to do SOMETHING to stay awake during the day so that she can see family & friends. I laughed while I was skimming the booklet -- apparently you have to specify what size cup, what KIND of cup (are you staying here or leaving with the coffee? China vs disposable) what kind of coffee, what kind of milk, any flavors, etc. For the record, I wanted TEA, and it took at least two minutes just to order that. Earl Grey. A large cup please. Yes, I guess I'll take two tea bags, thanks for suggesting. Can you put a little ice in that? I'm not into scalding myself. No, I don't want ice tea, I still want it to be hot. Caramba!
...computer, which is still not hooked up yet. Damn taxes.
....cantor, which is the person who sings the responsorial psalm as a solo during mass, and which is ME tomorrow, and I'm mighty nervous because I just don't think I'm singing this one right. So please cross your fingers for me.
Ciao!
Friday, April 08, 2005
What is the deal?
Is it me? I'm tired. I seem to have comments on my blog that never arrive in my Yahoo mailbox. Some do, some don't. It's wierd. Lately, most seem not to arrive. So if you've commented lately, thank you, it means the world to my delicate ego.
I think it might be Yahoo. I found out from a friend of mine that he has mailed me a few times and I've never gotten it, and that has nothing to do with the blog.
So, does blogger not send mail to me or does Yahoo not accept it? Is it treating Blogger comments like spam all of a sudden? Who else is mailing to me and I'm just not getting the mail? These are the questions I have.
I think it might be Yahoo. I found out from a friend of mine that he has mailed me a few times and I've never gotten it, and that has nothing to do with the blog.
So, does blogger not send mail to me or does Yahoo not accept it? Is it treating Blogger comments like spam all of a sudden? Who else is mailing to me and I'm just not getting the mail? These are the questions I have.
The post about how we almost watched the Pope's funeral
Well, the kids and I got up at 3:45 to see the Pope's funeral. Kid 1 is ten, and Kid 2 is seven. So I had a deal with them that they would walk out to the couch with me, we'd turn on the tv, and see if we could keep each other awake.
I probably sabotaged myself because I drank two glasses of wine while I was watching Stephanie kick Bobby John's ass. I want her to win so badly. I hope she picks of the other tribe one by one and eats the flesh off their bones. (Now see, I wouldn't have said that if I hadn't seen Sin City. ) I almost didn't care about Apprentice. I think Tana should win, but it's getting boring to watch the other idiots.
Anyway, back to my house, 3:45 am today
The kiddos were a little hesitant but I am annoying and all, and reminded them that they didn't have school today because of the funeral, and poked them until they kept their part of the bargain. I flicked on the tv, and it took me a few minutes to find a station that wouldn't have damn commentators yakking all through the entire thing. (That REALLY pissed me off during Reagan's services. Some moron saying "And now we're seeing the family weeping." I know, dammit, shut up.) So I settled on MSNBC.
We were on the couch and after the kids elbowing me for a while it got too crowded. (It's not a couch, pudding pop, it's a love seat, and if you know who sang that song you can mock me with the name of the singer.) I went to the Lazyboy, which is aptly named. I started falling asleep. At one point D popped up out of nowhere at my elbow and almost gave me a heart attack. "Mommmm, you said we'd all try to stay awake."
Well the adrenaline from THAT little jolt kept me going until about 5:10 but I started to lose it. ( I felt bad because it looked like a really beautiful ceremony, but at least it's in the dvr. )About 5:25 I jolted awake - you know how you're falling asleep and you sort of shake yourself awake BECAUSE you're falling asleep, and it's a crappy feeling? They were both asleep so I took pity on them and put them back in their beds. I made it a few more minutes, enough to see a chant we actually sing at my church (it's the Agnus Dei which is part of the communion piece of the mass). That was cool but I still felt like crap, so, back to bed for me. Mr. C sort of laughed at me but not too much.
Of course, my most annoying acquaintace called at 9:10 when I was just getting into some good REM sleep. No, you can not stop by, I didn't invite you over and I am sleeping and I don't want your kid breaking my stuff. But that's a post for another day.
I probably sabotaged myself because I drank two glasses of wine while I was watching Stephanie kick Bobby John's ass. I want her to win so badly. I hope she picks of the other tribe one by one and eats the flesh off their bones. (Now see, I wouldn't have said that if I hadn't seen Sin City. ) I almost didn't care about Apprentice. I think Tana should win, but it's getting boring to watch the other idiots.
Anyway, back to my house, 3:45 am today
The kiddos were a little hesitant but I am annoying and all, and reminded them that they didn't have school today because of the funeral, and poked them until they kept their part of the bargain. I flicked on the tv, and it took me a few minutes to find a station that wouldn't have damn commentators yakking all through the entire thing. (That REALLY pissed me off during Reagan's services. Some moron saying "And now we're seeing the family weeping." I know, dammit, shut up.) So I settled on MSNBC.
We were on the couch and after the kids elbowing me for a while it got too crowded. (It's not a couch, pudding pop, it's a love seat, and if you know who sang that song you can mock me with the name of the singer.) I went to the Lazyboy, which is aptly named. I started falling asleep. At one point D popped up out of nowhere at my elbow and almost gave me a heart attack. "Mommmm, you said we'd all try to stay awake."
Well the adrenaline from THAT little jolt kept me going until about 5:10 but I started to lose it. ( I felt bad because it looked like a really beautiful ceremony, but at least it's in the dvr. )About 5:25 I jolted awake - you know how you're falling asleep and you sort of shake yourself awake BECAUSE you're falling asleep, and it's a crappy feeling? They were both asleep so I took pity on them and put them back in their beds. I made it a few more minutes, enough to see a chant we actually sing at my church (it's the Agnus Dei which is part of the communion piece of the mass). That was cool but I still felt like crap, so, back to bed for me. Mr. C sort of laughed at me but not too much.
Of course, my most annoying acquaintace called at 9:10 when I was just getting into some good REM sleep. No, you can not stop by, I didn't invite you over and I am sleeping and I don't want your kid breaking my stuff. But that's a post for another day.
Wednesday, April 06, 2005
Sin City
:::ahem:::: A review, by Carly
So, I snuck off to go to the movies today with a friend when almost no one was looking. I picked Sin City. Friend sent me an email saying "Are you SURE that you want to see THAT movie?" but I never got the email.
First, Regal now presents 20 minutes of Things That Aren't Movie Previews before the actual previews start. Apparently Kojak is a gigundous-enormous black dude now and still has the lollipops, which made me laugh hysterically every time I saw one in his hand. Some woman in a super-ugly lime green hat was singing to him. Uh-huh. And TNN or TBS or some channel like that airs lots of cop show reruns too.
Next, real previews. (Doesn't matter what I thought looked good, I am NEVER, EVER choosing the movie again.)
Next, the actual movie.
Warning sign #1 that This Movie Is Just Not For Me. In the theater, Me, Friend, and about 5 guys, scattered across a huge stadium theater. I missed this OBVIOUS sign (no other women, this is NOT A CHICK FLICK! NOT A CHICK FLICK!) because it was a 1:20 afternoon matinee.
I had read that this movie was very good, and in part that it was good because of the graphic artist / comic book style. Mostly black and white. Except for blood, which was white blood(yeah I know that's still techincally black and white but it was a thick, glossy sort of shiny white when it was blood) red blood, or yellow blood, depending on who was bleeding and whether they were still alive and a whole bunch of symbolism that shot WAY over my puzzled little head.
Warning sign #2 that TMIJNFM - someone dies in first scene. And second scene. And third scene. I kid you not, about 50 people died in the course of this movie. That's just counting the ones you actually SAW die. There were severed heads and other things that we didn't get to experience.
Sign # 53 (after the 50 people I saw die) - in what was sure was intended to be an intense, dramatic scene, I couldn't stop wondering Is that Harry Potter? and finally had to ask Friend. Never mind.
Sign #54 - It's LONG movie. The timeline loops around and cuts in on itself at least once as far as I could tell. I know this for sure because one person I *THINK* died was in a bar later on in the movie, and one person who was in, well, Pieces, was walking around after THAT. The multiple storylines got me rather tangled up too.
By the way, if you ever pick a movie to take me to, choose one with only about four important characters and make sure they are easy to tell apart because I am stupid and will forget their names for most of the movie. I'm not kidding.
Sign #55 was a cut off finger that was given to someone, and it apparently wasn't the finger of the person I thought it was, because I never thought to look later but I don't RECALL that person missing their finger, but WTF do I know?
And gory? So this is what Stylized Violence means. It means that we won't just see hitting, we will see people get hit and then they will be leaking, spitting and otherwise extruding blood all over the place. On some level, I knew that if you hit someone enough times they will turn into mushy remains, but I did NOT want to see the mush on the ground! Even if it is in vivid colour. (Hi Marco, I spelled it that way for you.) No, make that ESPECIALLY if it is in vivid color. There were parts where I simply covered my face and whimpered "tell me when this scene is over".
Summary: Erik, Scott, and John, you guys should go see this movie together because I think you'll love it. I'm going to go rock quietly in a corner now. I may not sleep or eat for a few days. Let me know when Beaches is on tv or something...
So, I snuck off to go to the movies today with a friend when almost no one was looking. I picked Sin City. Friend sent me an email saying "Are you SURE that you want to see THAT movie?" but I never got the email.
First, Regal now presents 20 minutes of Things That Aren't Movie Previews before the actual previews start. Apparently Kojak is a gigundous-enormous black dude now and still has the lollipops, which made me laugh hysterically every time I saw one in his hand. Some woman in a super-ugly lime green hat was singing to him. Uh-huh. And TNN or TBS or some channel like that airs lots of cop show reruns too.
Next, real previews. (Doesn't matter what I thought looked good, I am NEVER, EVER choosing the movie again.)
Next, the actual movie.
Warning sign #1 that This Movie Is Just Not For Me. In the theater, Me, Friend, and about 5 guys, scattered across a huge stadium theater. I missed this OBVIOUS sign (no other women, this is NOT A CHICK FLICK! NOT A CHICK FLICK!) because it was a 1:20 afternoon matinee.
I had read that this movie was very good, and in part that it was good because of the graphic artist / comic book style. Mostly black and white. Except for blood, which was white blood(yeah I know that's still techincally black and white but it was a thick, glossy sort of shiny white when it was blood) red blood, or yellow blood, depending on who was bleeding and whether they were still alive and a whole bunch of symbolism that shot WAY over my puzzled little head.
Warning sign #2 that TMIJNFM - someone dies in first scene. And second scene. And third scene. I kid you not, about 50 people died in the course of this movie. That's just counting the ones you actually SAW die. There were severed heads and other things that we didn't get to experience.
Sign # 53 (after the 50 people I saw die) - in what was sure was intended to be an intense, dramatic scene, I couldn't stop wondering Is that Harry Potter? and finally had to ask Friend. Never mind.
Sign #54 - It's LONG movie. The timeline loops around and cuts in on itself at least once as far as I could tell. I know this for sure because one person I *THINK* died was in a bar later on in the movie, and one person who was in, well, Pieces, was walking around after THAT. The multiple storylines got me rather tangled up too.
By the way, if you ever pick a movie to take me to, choose one with only about four important characters and make sure they are easy to tell apart because I am stupid and will forget their names for most of the movie. I'm not kidding.
Sign #55 was a cut off finger that was given to someone, and it apparently wasn't the finger of the person I thought it was, because I never thought to look later but I don't RECALL that person missing their finger, but WTF do I know?
And gory? So this is what Stylized Violence means. It means that we won't just see hitting, we will see people get hit and then they will be leaking, spitting and otherwise extruding blood all over the place. On some level, I knew that if you hit someone enough times they will turn into mushy remains, but I did NOT want to see the mush on the ground! Even if it is in vivid colour. (Hi Marco, I spelled it that way for you.) No, make that ESPECIALLY if it is in vivid color. There were parts where I simply covered my face and whimpered "tell me when this scene is over".
Summary: Erik, Scott, and John, you guys should go see this movie together because I think you'll love it. I'm going to go rock quietly in a corner now. I may not sleep or eat for a few days. Let me know when Beaches is on tv or something...
Tuesday, April 05, 2005
On the upswing
Well I was moping earlier, so I took the kids for a walk. We walked up the hill to a park a couple of blocks away. B was swinging and I thought, Oh, let me do this, it will be fun. I swang (?) swung (?) ....hmm.... I was on the swingset for a minute or two. Then I felt like crap. So, to make this clearer, obviously my heart did not like the high swinging and it was trying to have a bout of tachycardia, but the little zap I got last July was working as specified. I still felt queasy...I am a wuss. No more swings for Carly.
I scrambled around a bit to try to give the kids a decent dinner (grilled cheese and a side dish of mandarin oranges, best I could do) and went to the NICU to help with a scrapbooking workshop. I actually got a chance to go into the unit with the March of Dimes coordinator and shoot a roll of film for one family. Laurie was showing me some of the usual shots she does - tiny baby hand holding Mom's finger, Dad's big hand holding teeny tiny feet, etc. Laurie has the film developed and the family will get the pictures & negatives for free (it was a roll of 24 black & white.) I found out later the baby is having some stuff done tomorrow that could be very serious. It was humbling. My biggest problem today was a case of the crankies, and here they are wondering what tomorrow will bring. I go home every time being grateful that my babies were healthy.
Of course, I had no money in my wallet when I left so I couldn't get out of the parking garage. I had to put it in reverse, go park somewhere, go allllllllllllllll the way back in through the hospital to find an atm near the cafeteria. D'oh!
I scrambled around a bit to try to give the kids a decent dinner (grilled cheese and a side dish of mandarin oranges, best I could do) and went to the NICU to help with a scrapbooking workshop. I actually got a chance to go into the unit with the March of Dimes coordinator and shoot a roll of film for one family. Laurie was showing me some of the usual shots she does - tiny baby hand holding Mom's finger, Dad's big hand holding teeny tiny feet, etc. Laurie has the film developed and the family will get the pictures & negatives for free (it was a roll of 24 black & white.) I found out later the baby is having some stuff done tomorrow that could be very serious. It was humbling. My biggest problem today was a case of the crankies, and here they are wondering what tomorrow will bring. I go home every time being grateful that my babies were healthy.
Of course, I had no money in my wallet when I left so I couldn't get out of the parking garage. I had to put it in reverse, go park somewhere, go allllllllllllllll the way back in through the hospital to find an atm near the cafeteria. D'oh!
This & That
I am cranky today...
At lunch with 3 coworkers (some of you know them but that's probably beside the point, but when did that ever stop me??) we discussed that the Pope might be on ice to preserve his remains throughout the public viewing period. Does that make him a Popesicle? Are we all going to hell? I'll keep you posted. (It deteriorated into the marketability of a Popesicle frozen treat with a stick with a prayer on it..... so yeah, we are ALL going to hell..... )
So hey, watch Grey's anatomy. (Why isn't it Gray's Anatomy? Nevermind. Just watch it.) Watch it for the storlines, the background music, and the one-liners the Korean girl delivers. Be warned, however. I still cringe when I remember the makeup/effects job they did on the bad guy from this past week's episode. You might not want to be snacking while viewing this one.
Moving on down to the bottom of the food chain...don't watch Bachelor. Unless you want to laugh at how stupid (and P.S., out of SHAPE, get thee to a gym Charlie) he is -- and how trampy and catty the girls all are. Hmmm. Now that they've MET him, do they only want him to get access to his (I suppose) hotter tv-show-star brother? Whatever. I do consider letting Mr. C watch the ::::cough cough cough tramps cough cough cough um, LADIES cough cough cough cough cough:::: to be his penalty-free eye candy. So it's kind of charity work. Maybe I won't go to hell. Right? Yeah.
- I knocked a stone out of my wedding band again. There are 7 tiny stones in a row and I bonk one out from time to time just whacking against this or that (sometimes I can remember, sometimes I don't). This will cost me about $100 bucks and I get to walk around wearing no wedding band for a while. Sheesh.
- The efffing rabbit has started in on my flowers. So far, tulip leaves and crocuses. It's stew time, baby.
- STILL do not have entire new PC hooked up. Mr. C is still doing taxes. So, no speakers, no printer. It's RIGHT THERE and I can't print or scan anything with it. Waaaah.
- Work... I spent an hour today studying money laundering prevention even though I don't actually EVER go near customers or any of our account systems. Zzzzzzzzzzz.
At lunch with 3 coworkers (some of you know them but that's probably beside the point, but when did that ever stop me??) we discussed that the Pope might be on ice to preserve his remains throughout the public viewing period. Does that make him a Popesicle? Are we all going to hell? I'll keep you posted. (It deteriorated into the marketability of a Popesicle frozen treat with a stick with a prayer on it..... so yeah, we are ALL going to hell..... )
So hey, watch Grey's anatomy. (Why isn't it Gray's Anatomy? Nevermind. Just watch it.) Watch it for the storlines, the background music, and the one-liners the Korean girl delivers. Be warned, however. I still cringe when I remember the makeup/effects job they did on the bad guy from this past week's episode. You might not want to be snacking while viewing this one.
Moving on down to the bottom of the food chain...don't watch Bachelor. Unless you want to laugh at how stupid (and P.S., out of SHAPE, get thee to a gym Charlie) he is -- and how trampy and catty the girls all are. Hmmm. Now that they've MET him, do they only want him to get access to his (I suppose) hotter tv-show-star brother? Whatever. I do consider letting Mr. C watch the ::::cough cough cough tramps cough cough cough um, LADIES cough cough cough cough cough:::: to be his penalty-free eye candy. So it's kind of charity work. Maybe I won't go to hell. Right? Yeah.
Sunday, April 03, 2005
Sunday Morning in the Choir Loft
Well, of course I had choir this morning. It was kind of nice to go back, we haven't seen each other in a week which was a welcome break from the marathon of Holy Week services.
Stanley was in rare form today. He broke out his favorite old Polish hymn in honor of the Pope. Years ago he photocopied it and wrote out a "phonics" line of the lyrics so that all of us can sing it remotely close to the way it should sound. (Every time we sing this song during a mass, some little old lady in church makes him a plate of pierogis. ) So there we were, pretty much most of us either Irish, French, or Danish, singing this Polish hymn to Mary. It cracks me up every time. It could be a drinking song for all we know.
(He actually DOES play things like "Roll out the barrell" and "Hello dolly" in tinkly-music box settings on the organ during baptisms. I usually lean forward and he softly sings whatever he's playing so that I can identify the tune. He's such a cutup. )
We were supposed to sing one song for communion, then Salve Regina during meditation (in other words while they are finishing up the distribution of communion and "picking up the dishes". Stanley's phrase.)
As we started the communion hymn Stanley was basically playing with one hand and shuffling every paper in sight frantically, muttering "I can't find Salve Regina". Well, I could see Betty just wanted to clock him one, in the way that only a lifelong friend can pull off. "What do you mean you don't have it? Don't you know it?"
Just by dumb luck I picked up a book of sheet music on the pile of crap BEHIND him and flipped through it. He had been playing a piece from that book before mass and stuck S. R. into that book by mistake. So I sort of shook it and Salve fell out.
Heeeeeeeeeere I come to save the day! He gave me a dollar.
Stanley was in rare form today. He broke out his favorite old Polish hymn in honor of the Pope. Years ago he photocopied it and wrote out a "phonics" line of the lyrics so that all of us can sing it remotely close to the way it should sound. (Every time we sing this song during a mass, some little old lady in church makes him a plate of pierogis. ) So there we were, pretty much most of us either Irish, French, or Danish, singing this Polish hymn to Mary. It cracks me up every time. It could be a drinking song for all we know.
(He actually DOES play things like "Roll out the barrell" and "Hello dolly" in tinkly-music box settings on the organ during baptisms. I usually lean forward and he softly sings whatever he's playing so that I can identify the tune. He's such a cutup. )
We were supposed to sing one song for communion, then Salve Regina during meditation (in other words while they are finishing up the distribution of communion and "picking up the dishes". Stanley's phrase.)
As we started the communion hymn Stanley was basically playing with one hand and shuffling every paper in sight frantically, muttering "I can't find Salve Regina". Well, I could see Betty just wanted to clock him one, in the way that only a lifelong friend can pull off. "What do you mean you don't have it? Don't you know it?"
Just by dumb luck I picked up a book of sheet music on the pile of crap BEHIND him and flipped through it. He had been playing a piece from that book before mass and stuck S. R. into that book by mistake. So I sort of shook it and Salve fell out.
Heeeeeeeeeere I come to save the day! He gave me a dollar.
Saturday, April 02, 2005
Monday is Slap Your Co-Worker Day!!
OK, I know this is spam but it's just near and dear to my heart right now!
EVERYONE GET READY!!!
Mark this day on the calendar! Slap Your Co-Worker Day!!
Monday is the official Slap Your Irritating Co-workers Holiday:
Do you have a co-worker who talks nonstop about nothing, working your last nerve with tedious and boring details that you don't give a damn about?
Do you have a co-worker who ALWAYS screws up stuff creating MORE work for you?
Do you have a co-worker who kisses so much booty, you can look in their mouth and see what your boss had for lunch?
Do you have a co-worker who is SOOO obnoxious, when he/she enters a room, everyone else clears it?
Well, on behalf of Ike Turner, I am so very very glad to officially announce Monday as SLAP YOUR IRRITATING CO-WORKER DAY! There are the rules you must follow:
- You can only slap one person per hour - no more.
- You can slap the same person again if they irritate you again in the same day.
- You are allowed to hold someone down as other co-workers take their turns slapping the irritant.
- No weapons are allowed...other than going upside somebody's head with a stapler or a hole-puncher.
- CURSING IS MANDATORY! After you have slapped the recipient, your "assault" must be followed with something like "cause I'm sick of your stupid-a$$ always messing up stuff!"
- If questioned by a supervisor [or police, if the supervisor is the irritant], you are allowed to LIE, LIE, LIE!
Now, study the rules, break out your list of folks that you want to slap the living daylights out of and get to slapping.....and have a great day !
Friday, April 01, 2005
Weekend Salute
So... in the tv world...
Mr. C and I laughed at the foolish women on the newest "Bachelor" and at his drunken confessionals. What a knob.
We cringed in horror when Meredith's wife fell and bonked her head on Amazing Race and bled all over (I soooo would have been saying "I want to go home right now")
We breathed a sigh of relief when Ulong/U-lose Stephanie survived another week (but I will miss Ibraheim and his man-breasts).
We shook our heads in amazement when the other Stephanie, Trump's Tramp ...(did you SEE her flirting with Gene Simmons and trying to get him to stick his tongue out at her? Ewww, just ewwww. ) ..... just Didn't Have a Clue (and did she actually say Caroline instead of Carolyn?)
The funny thing about Apprentice was that over a month ago my co-workers spent an entire lunch doing a brainstorming session on "The Pizza Truck" which is a self contained unit - when you get a call, you make the pizza in the back part of this giant truck, put it in the oven to bake, then drive the whole thing to the house, etc. It morphed into a double decker deal, with the top being a shuttle bus to prevent college students from drinking and driving, and then it had an ATM (which actually had a little old man inside counting out the bills and making "Whirrrrrr" noises.)
I work with lunatics. However, there was a pizza truck of sorts on Apprentice, so the idea isn't completely insane.
April Fool's jokes....
The best one I ever did, I can't tell you about. It was today, and I'll be dead by Monday.
The second best was years ago. Kay and I worked together. Kay coughed up a credit card and wrote down her address and stuff for me. I called Bob at work (her husband), secretly conferenced her in, and proceeded to pretend to be from That Bank That Calls You About Suspicious Activity. I read him his address, his card number, expiration date, etc.
Then I told him that someone had been using the credit card to call those 1-900 numbers and there was (some huge number of dollars) charged to date. He FLIPPED OUT. He was screaming "I didn't make those charges! I won't pay that! Cancel that card RIGHT NOW!"
I was laughing so hard that I almost couldn't talk. Kay was listening in, laughing. It was SO funny. It was a pretty lame prank and we never expected him to fall for it so hard.
So then I told him that if he really didn't athorize those charges he had to speak to my supervisor. That was our prearranged signal for Kay to say April Fools but as I recall she was still laughing so it was a minute or two before he realized how badly he had been fooled.
So, it's been nice to know you, but like I said, when my joke today hits the fan, I'm done. Remember, if you can't be good, be careful.
Mr. C and I laughed at the foolish women on the newest "Bachelor" and at his drunken confessionals. What a knob.
We cringed in horror when Meredith's wife fell and bonked her head on Amazing Race and bled all over (I soooo would have been saying "I want to go home right now")
We breathed a sigh of relief when Ulong/U-lose Stephanie survived another week (but I will miss Ibraheim and his man-breasts).
We shook our heads in amazement when the other Stephanie, Trump's Tramp ...(did you SEE her flirting with Gene Simmons and trying to get him to stick his tongue out at her? Ewww, just ewwww. ) ..... just Didn't Have a Clue (and did she actually say Caroline instead of Carolyn?)
The funny thing about Apprentice was that over a month ago my co-workers spent an entire lunch doing a brainstorming session on "The Pizza Truck" which is a self contained unit - when you get a call, you make the pizza in the back part of this giant truck, put it in the oven to bake, then drive the whole thing to the house, etc. It morphed into a double decker deal, with the top being a shuttle bus to prevent college students from drinking and driving, and then it had an ATM (which actually had a little old man inside counting out the bills and making "Whirrrrrr" noises.)
I work with lunatics. However, there was a pizza truck of sorts on Apprentice, so the idea isn't completely insane.
April Fool's jokes....
The best one I ever did, I can't tell you about. It was today, and I'll be dead by Monday.
The second best was years ago. Kay and I worked together. Kay coughed up a credit card and wrote down her address and stuff for me. I called Bob at work (her husband), secretly conferenced her in, and proceeded to pretend to be from That Bank That Calls You About Suspicious Activity. I read him his address, his card number, expiration date, etc.
Then I told him that someone had been using the credit card to call those 1-900 numbers and there was (some huge number of dollars) charged to date. He FLIPPED OUT. He was screaming "I didn't make those charges! I won't pay that! Cancel that card RIGHT NOW!"
I was laughing so hard that I almost couldn't talk. Kay was listening in, laughing. It was SO funny. It was a pretty lame prank and we never expected him to fall for it so hard.
So then I told him that if he really didn't athorize those charges he had to speak to my supervisor. That was our prearranged signal for Kay to say April Fools but as I recall she was still laughing so it was a minute or two before he realized how badly he had been fooled.
So, it's been nice to know you, but like I said, when my joke today hits the fan, I'm done. Remember, if you can't be good, be careful.
Wednesday, March 30, 2005
Aaaaaaaaaaaghhhhh
You know how you get a new computer, and you're trying to figure out what some of the software does, and it's forcing you to make some choices about the default settings, and you're all "I don't know, I don't know! Don't pressure me!" and you have to make some choices anyway so you hope you're not screwing yourself royally by doing something wrong that will come back to bite you waaaaaaaaaay down the road?
Yeah. That would be me, right now.
Yeah. That would be me, right now.
Tuesday, March 29, 2005
What can Brown do for me?
...pretty much anything he wants to.... I just got MY PRINTER (can I make that text blink neon pink?) from my friendly UPS man, and damn! he was cute. (A little forward, he rang my doorbell and walked right in with the box. Hello!)
Sunday, March 27, 2005
A little joke from my Easter Bunny, Dan
Q. What did Martha Stewart do for Easter?
A. She made Cinnamon Bunnies
thank you..... I see late night talk show host as a career path.... the funniest thing he did today was eat pork tenderloin thinking it was turkey...
Easter is over and now after all that singing I am very tired (so why am I not sleeping? Family drama. Nothing like a holiday and all of that TOGETHERNESS....I can't quite wind down yet over the latest Can You Believe She Said That.....)
Bonus... a new Desperate Housewives... does anyone else think the wierdo pharmacist switched Bree's husband's pills??
I hope to be posting from my NEW PC soooooon, as it arrived on Friday, but until the Tax Man Go-eth...or at least until Mr. Carly does about 3 more tax returns, Mr. Dell is going to stay under a layer or two of styrofoam. (I did open the keyboard, type my favorite password, and lovingly whisper "I promise I'll never drop crumbs on you".....)
Be good, my dear readers, and as I always say, "if you can't be good, be careful"....
A. She made Cinnamon Bunnies
thank you..... I see late night talk show host as a career path.... the funniest thing he did today was eat pork tenderloin thinking it was turkey...
Easter is over and now after all that singing I am very tired (so why am I not sleeping? Family drama. Nothing like a holiday and all of that TOGETHERNESS....I can't quite wind down yet over the latest Can You Believe She Said That.....)
Bonus... a new Desperate Housewives... does anyone else think the wierdo pharmacist switched Bree's husband's pills??
I hope to be posting from my NEW PC soooooon, as it arrived on Friday, but until the Tax Man Go-eth...or at least until Mr. Carly does about 3 more tax returns, Mr. Dell is going to stay under a layer or two of styrofoam. (I did open the keyboard, type my favorite password, and lovingly whisper "I promise I'll never drop crumbs on you".....)
Be good, my dear readers, and as I always say, "if you can't be good, be careful"....
Saturday, March 26, 2005
Requiem
No matter how you feel about court cases, living wills, and feeding tubes, I think it is clear that Terri Schiavo will die soon. That in itself is an immense sadness for anyone who loved her. The debate swirling around this woman only serves to magnify everyone's pain.
Jessica Lunsford surely did not deserve to see the face of a monster as she lay dying. Bobbie Jo Stinnett and Laci Peterson should be holding their babies at this moment. Where does it all end? Someday, somehow.
There Will Come A Day performed by Faith Hill
It's not easy trying to understand
How the world can be so cold, stealing the souls of man
Cloudy skies rain down on all your dreams
You wrestle with the fear and doubt
Sometimes it's hard but you gotta believe
Chorus:
There's a better place, where our Father waits
And every tear He'll wipe away
The darkness will be gone,the weak shall be strong
Hold on to your faith
There will come a day, there will come a day
Wars are raging, lives are scattered
Innocence is lost, and hopes are shattered
The old are forgotten, the children are forsaken
In this world we're living in
Is there anything sacred?
There will come a day, there will come a day
The song will ring out, down those golden streets
The voices of earth with the angels will sing
Every knee will bow, sin will have no trace
In the glory of His amazing grace
Every knee will bow, sin will have no trace
In the glory of His amazing grace
There will come a day, there will come a day
Oooh there will come a day
I know there's coming a day, coming a day
Jessica Lunsford surely did not deserve to see the face of a monster as she lay dying. Bobbie Jo Stinnett and Laci Peterson should be holding their babies at this moment. Where does it all end? Someday, somehow.
There Will Come A Day performed by Faith Hill
It's not easy trying to understand
How the world can be so cold, stealing the souls of man
Cloudy skies rain down on all your dreams
You wrestle with the fear and doubt
Sometimes it's hard but you gotta believe
Chorus:
There's a better place, where our Father waits
And every tear He'll wipe away
The darkness will be gone,the weak shall be strong
Hold on to your faith
There will come a day, there will come a day
Wars are raging, lives are scattered
Innocence is lost, and hopes are shattered
The old are forgotten, the children are forsaken
In this world we're living in
Is there anything sacred?
There will come a day, there will come a day
The song will ring out, down those golden streets
The voices of earth with the angels will sing
Every knee will bow, sin will have no trace
In the glory of His amazing grace
Every knee will bow, sin will have no trace
In the glory of His amazing grace
There will come a day, there will come a day
Oooh there will come a day
I know there's coming a day, coming a day
Thursday, March 24, 2005
See you in a few days
Many of you know that I'm in my church's choir. This is the week that we have been rehearsing for since January. We sang this past Sunday morning (Palm Sunday service with the 10,000 word Gospel reading of the Passion) and evening (We have a service called Tenebrae that involves reading passages, extinguishing candles, and us singing things like this which is Italian opera and is something like "the chorus of the enslaved Jews". It was great to sing but even better to hear Stan play the beginning. )
Tonight I sing because it's Holy Thursday. Maybe this, which is not four but EIGHT part harmony, will be tonight (I have a two page typed list from Bette to keep the songs straight....)
Tomorrow night I sing because it's Good Friday. (Hey EriK , that means NO MEAT, remember? FISH!!)
Saturday evening is the peak - two hour Easter vigil (I'm just glad they don't start it at midnight anymore) and somewhere along the line we sing this and we even throw in Mozart's Gloria for a little fun.
Sunday morning, we sing (for all the Hatched-matched-dispatched parishioners who don't usually show up other than on Easter and Christmas. They sit up in the front and don't know when to kneel or stand or do inappropriate PDA.) By then we will be sick of each seeing each other -- but not as much as we dislike Icky Dick -- and a little hoarse.
All of this singing doesn't leave me time for important things like updating my blog. No really, all kidding aside, I wanted to wish those of you who observe these days as holidays a very Happy Easter!!
I'll close this post with one of my favorite hymns (we sing this in total darkness near the end of Tenebrae, and then one candle is lighted, and another, and the light spreads through the church as we sing.)
God so loved the world
that He gave His only begotten son
that whoso believeth in Him
should not perish but have everlasting life.
For God sent not His Son into the world to condemn the world,
but that the world through Him might be saved.
Tonight I sing because it's Holy Thursday. Maybe this, which is not four but EIGHT part harmony, will be tonight (I have a two page typed list from Bette to keep the songs straight....)
Tomorrow night I sing because it's Good Friday. (Hey EriK , that means NO MEAT, remember? FISH!!)
Saturday evening is the peak - two hour Easter vigil (I'm just glad they don't start it at midnight anymore) and somewhere along the line we sing this and we even throw in Mozart's Gloria for a little fun.
Sunday morning, we sing (for all the Hatched-matched-dispatched parishioners who don't usually show up other than on Easter and Christmas. They sit up in the front and don't know when to kneel or stand or do inappropriate PDA.) By then we will be sick of each seeing each other -- but not as much as we dislike Icky Dick -- and a little hoarse.
All of this singing doesn't leave me time for important things like updating my blog. No really, all kidding aside, I wanted to wish those of you who observe these days as holidays a very Happy Easter!!
I'll close this post with one of my favorite hymns (we sing this in total darkness near the end of Tenebrae, and then one candle is lighted, and another, and the light spreads through the church as we sing.)
God so loved the world
that He gave His only begotten son
that whoso believeth in Him
should not perish but have everlasting life.
For God sent not His Son into the world to condemn the world,
but that the world through Him might be saved.
Tuesday, March 22, 2005
This, that and the Oprah
Well, this looks like a good book. This is intriguing (wonder who he will be?) and I've not much to say about this other than, "Hmmm, how curious and perhaps unfortunate...",
but I have plenty to say about this:
American TV chat-show queen Oprah Winfrey is ditching the high life to star in a poverty-stricken reality TV series, reports IMDB.com.
The 51-year-old media mogul, who is one of the world's richest women with an annual income of more than $300 million, has agreed to live a life of poverty in the hard-hitting documentary. Winfrey will live in a notoriously tough Chicago neighborhood for a month.
The series plans to highlight America's urban housing crisis. A spokesperson for Winfrey's Harpo Productions company says, ``She has interviewed just about every major celebrity and done shows on almost every subject imaginable. But now she intends to tackle really tough, serious issues, putting herself right in the front line.''
However, to ensure Winfrey's safety, she will shadowed by security guards during her stay. But the spokesperson adds, ``In every other respect she will have to fend for herself, just like the many people who have to live in these substandard conditions.''
Oh, where do I start? Where?
I'll just shave my head so that I know how it feels to have cancer. No, wait. I'll misplace my calendar and say that I know how it feels like to have Altzheimer's.
Is Oprah serious?
She's going to go play Ghetto, er, house, for a month while WITH HER BODYGUARDS, and that will let her experience "the front line"? Yeah, she'll be fending for herself. Right.
Does she have children that will be crying in the supermarket, wanting sweets and toys she can't afford? Crying themselves to sleep at night because they're hungry, and frightened of the noises rats make, and afraid that a bullet will come in through their window? Will she have to humiliate them by using electrical tape to hold their shoes together so that they have something to wear to school? Will she ever know the despair of knowing that your child has been bitten by a rat, or has serious asthma because you live surrounded by cockroach feces?
Life of poverty, my ass. Give away all of your money, you sanctimonious publicity whore. Then we'll talk about you even remotely understanding a life of poverty. Even though it still won't really be valid, because you can just ink another deal to earn yourself some money.
It's insulting. It's obscenely offensive to people who don't have the option of going back home to "the high life."
I am in such disbelief, that can't sum it up any better than this excerpt from the song "Common People" (William Shatner, with guests I can't recall right now)
You'll never live like common people. You'll never do whatever common people do. You'll never fail like common people. You'll never watch your life slide out of view, and dance and drink and screw because there's nothing else to do.
Sing along with the common people. Sing along, and it might just get you thru.' Laugh along with the common people. Laugh along, even though they're laughing at you and the stupid things that you do 'cause you think that poor is cool.
Like a dog lying in a corner, they'll bite you and never warn you. Look out. They'll tear your insides out 'cause everybody hates a tourist. 'Cause Everybody hates a tourist, especially one who thinks it's all such a laugh.
You will never understand how it feels to live your life with no meaning or control and with nowhere left to go. You're amazed that they exist and they burn so bright, while you can only wonder why.
but I have plenty to say about this:
American TV chat-show queen Oprah Winfrey is ditching the high life to star in a poverty-stricken reality TV series, reports IMDB.com.
The 51-year-old media mogul, who is one of the world's richest women with an annual income of more than $300 million, has agreed to live a life of poverty in the hard-hitting documentary. Winfrey will live in a notoriously tough Chicago neighborhood for a month.
The series plans to highlight America's urban housing crisis. A spokesperson for Winfrey's Harpo Productions company says, ``She has interviewed just about every major celebrity and done shows on almost every subject imaginable. But now she intends to tackle really tough, serious issues, putting herself right in the front line.''
However, to ensure Winfrey's safety, she will shadowed by security guards during her stay. But the spokesperson adds, ``In every other respect she will have to fend for herself, just like the many people who have to live in these substandard conditions.''
Oh, where do I start? Where?
I'll just shave my head so that I know how it feels to have cancer. No, wait. I'll misplace my calendar and say that I know how it feels like to have Altzheimer's.
Is Oprah serious?
She's going to go play Ghetto, er, house, for a month while WITH HER BODYGUARDS, and that will let her experience "the front line"? Yeah, she'll be fending for herself. Right.
Does she have children that will be crying in the supermarket, wanting sweets and toys she can't afford? Crying themselves to sleep at night because they're hungry, and frightened of the noises rats make, and afraid that a bullet will come in through their window? Will she have to humiliate them by using electrical tape to hold their shoes together so that they have something to wear to school? Will she ever know the despair of knowing that your child has been bitten by a rat, or has serious asthma because you live surrounded by cockroach feces?
Life of poverty, my ass. Give away all of your money, you sanctimonious publicity whore. Then we'll talk about you even remotely understanding a life of poverty. Even though it still won't really be valid, because you can just ink another deal to earn yourself some money.
It's insulting. It's obscenely offensive to people who don't have the option of going back home to "the high life."
I am in such disbelief, that can't sum it up any better than this excerpt from the song "Common People" (William Shatner, with guests I can't recall right now)
You'll never live like common people. You'll never do whatever common people do. You'll never fail like common people. You'll never watch your life slide out of view, and dance and drink and screw because there's nothing else to do.
Sing along with the common people. Sing along, and it might just get you thru.' Laugh along with the common people. Laugh along, even though they're laughing at you and the stupid things that you do 'cause you think that poor is cool.
Like a dog lying in a corner, they'll bite you and never warn you. Look out. They'll tear your insides out 'cause everybody hates a tourist. 'Cause Everybody hates a tourist, especially one who thinks it's all such a laugh.
You will never understand how it feels to live your life with no meaning or control and with nowhere left to go. You're amazed that they exist and they burn so bright, while you can only wonder why.
Monday, March 21, 2005
I'd get tangled somehow
Mr. C and I are making reservations for the big anniversary (15 years this summer)... this picture just made me laugh... how much hot grizzlybear lovin' do you think has taken place on THIS?
Game On
The time has come. My opponent has returned.
I caught a glimpse of the enemy last night, lurking in the shadows where he thought he would remain unseen.
I saw.
I thought to reach for my digital camera, but what good would it do to have a photo, until the crime is done? Then, it will be too late. The loss will be irreplaceable.
I heard - or did I imagine? - the soft chuckle. "I know they are there, and I will take them from you. I will have them, soon." The familiar chill went down my spine. No, not again. Not this time. No!
I must try harder to outwit him. I must surpass the pathetic attempts I have made in the past to protect what is mine. This time, it's personal.
Every - and by that I mean, for at least the past five years, EVERY spring, I wait anxiously. I look for signs. I take whatever meager precautions I have at my disposal. I am on guard. My opponent waits until I am momentarily distracted, pulled away from my vigil, then makes his sudden crushing attack. I am devastated.
If that damn rabbit eats my tulips again this year, JUST before they bloom, I'm making rabbit stew. So help me.
I caught a glimpse of the enemy last night, lurking in the shadows where he thought he would remain unseen.
I saw.
I thought to reach for my digital camera, but what good would it do to have a photo, until the crime is done? Then, it will be too late. The loss will be irreplaceable.
I heard - or did I imagine? - the soft chuckle. "I know they are there, and I will take them from you. I will have them, soon." The familiar chill went down my spine. No, not again. Not this time. No!
I must try harder to outwit him. I must surpass the pathetic attempts I have made in the past to protect what is mine. This time, it's personal.
Every - and by that I mean, for at least the past five years, EVERY spring, I wait anxiously. I look for signs. I take whatever meager precautions I have at my disposal. I am on guard. My opponent waits until I am momentarily distracted, pulled away from my vigil, then makes his sudden crushing attack. I am devastated.
If that damn rabbit eats my tulips again this year, JUST before they bloom, I'm making rabbit stew. So help me.
Sunday, March 20, 2005
Spies in Sunglasses
Author's note: edited.... this item was originally posted without proofreading. I really should mention to my husband that I have this blog. It's not like I trash him in it, for pete's sake, so why don't I want him reading it? The only reason I have come up with so far is that he might say "Don't you have housework to be doing?"
Right now my kids are outside playing "Spy". They are wearing hats and sunglasses, even though it's 41 degrees out and slightly raining. Oh, they have mittens on too.
The "gear" apparently protects them from some sort of "rays" that the bad guys have, which otherwise are apparently able to knock them out. Their weapons right now seem to consist of water guns and little bottles of bubble-blowing solution. Apparently this game required a notebook of some sort (an old spiral notebook I willingly handed over, received as though it was The Coolest Spy Notebook Ever.) Big drama broke out when the two way radios couldn't be found. Mom to the rescue -- one was in the backpack.
Cost of amusement for today... batteries for the radios. No lessons, uniforms, or fast-food-dinner-because-we're-late will be required. Smug? Perhaps. Twenty years ago a college classmate was reading "The Hurried Child", warning of overscheduling your child in all manner of team sports, music lessons, et cetera. No one listened, apparently, except me.
Right now my kids are outside playing "Spy". They are wearing hats and sunglasses, even though it's 41 degrees out and slightly raining. Oh, they have mittens on too.
The "gear" apparently protects them from some sort of "rays" that the bad guys have, which otherwise are apparently able to knock them out. Their weapons right now seem to consist of water guns and little bottles of bubble-blowing solution. Apparently this game required a notebook of some sort (an old spiral notebook I willingly handed over, received as though it was The Coolest Spy Notebook Ever.) Big drama broke out when the two way radios couldn't be found. Mom to the rescue -- one was in the backpack.
Cost of amusement for today... batteries for the radios. No lessons, uniforms, or fast-food-dinner-because-we're-late will be required. Smug? Perhaps. Twenty years ago a college classmate was reading "The Hurried Child", warning of overscheduling your child in all manner of team sports, music lessons, et cetera. No one listened, apparently, except me.
Saturday, March 19, 2005
Ping!
I saw a funny commercial tonight. It's a commercial for AARP (something about not doing it all on your own...?). Like any truly funny commercial, the catch is that I didn't notice what they were advertising.
It's an Asian guy who says his name is Ping and he's talking about how he never could get everything done until he cloned himself. Then as the commercial proceeds, you realize that there are Ping clones all around him, dressed exactly like he is, doing volunteering and so on.
The part that cracked me up is where Ping walks into the bedroom and hands his wife a flower in a vase, just as she wakes up . She looks at him, looks at the Ping clone lying next to her, and starts screaming.
So is the clone of Ping a better Big Daddy than the original Ping? How could that be? Wouldn't that little boots-knocking the prior night have been his first time? Where did he learn his moves? Why do I care so much about Ping's sex life?
Is the first Ping the "real" Ping, or do they all think that they're the real one?
It's an Asian guy who says his name is Ping and he's talking about how he never could get everything done until he cloned himself. Then as the commercial proceeds, you realize that there are Ping clones all around him, dressed exactly like he is, doing volunteering and so on.
The part that cracked me up is where Ping walks into the bedroom and hands his wife a flower in a vase, just as she wakes up . She looks at him, looks at the Ping clone lying next to her, and starts screaming.
So is the clone of Ping a better Big Daddy than the original Ping? How could that be? Wouldn't that little boots-knocking the prior night have been his first time? Where did he learn his moves? Why do I care so much about Ping's sex life?
Is the first Ping the "real" Ping, or do they all think that they're the real one?
Am I the Real Ping?
Bliss
This is the best stuff ever.... Katcas. You microwave one of these suckers and it will stay warm for about 45 minutes. I have the shoulder wrap and it was worth every penny. (I got whiplash on my honeymoon -from a car accident thank you very much - and to this day my neck still aches sometimes, even though 15 years have passed)
Tell 'em the old lady sent ya.
Tell 'em the old lady sent ya.
Bacon, bits, & bytes
Did you know I am only two degrees away from Kevin Bacon? My sister had coffee with him (with wife & kid) in '92 when she was a skater. I know that doesn't really count for the game, but whatever... I'm just finding this out NOW.... can't wait to find out what other little things I missed.
I love the new song by Rob Thomas.
I am going to buy a new PC with some of the consulting mooolah Mr. Carly has been making. Wheeeee! (Now I'll be able to watch blogger crash on a flat panel. Sweet.) I'm thinking Dell.
I love the new song by Rob Thomas.
I am going to buy a new PC with some of the consulting mooolah Mr. Carly has been making. Wheeeee! (Now I'll be able to watch blogger crash on a flat panel. Sweet.) I'm thinking Dell.
Friday, March 18, 2005
Frontega Chicken with a Brat on the side
So, Shamus and I take off to go to Panera's now & again since we don't work together anymore. It's a good chance to have this amazing Frontega ChickenPanini they make, and fill him in on who is "moving on to pursue other opportunities", which happens all too often at my employer. (B.Y. is one of the best managers I ever had and I have great respect for him. My company is so stupid. Do you hear me? :::shakes fist:::: STUPID!!)
Today we lunched and as we were chatting I'm watching this three or four year old girl squirming around on a high barstool sort of chair, sort of half standing on the chair and then scootching her foot around under her fanny to sit down again. I was getting queasy wondering what sound her noggin will make when she tips the chair over and her head hits the floor. Problem one - her mother wasn't even sitting at the table with her; she was at the next one over, with Friend/Sister, Little Boy in HighChair, and Friend's child.
The mother seemed sort of flustered and I didn't really understand how she was eating her own meal. She was more or less standing up frequently to help the little girl, but almost immediately the LBIHC would demand that she sit down again. He looked to be about two. She would plead with him that "Honey I have to help (Little Girl) eat her lunch." Problem two. Do not whimper to your child that you need to do something, just because he doesn't want you to do it. I do not want to hear you whining and begging your two year old to allow you to do something. Who is the parent here?
Problem three started when Mom had to go back to the ladies' room (for a good cry, probably) and left everyone else behind. LBIHC started a "Oh no, you can't leave meeeeeeeeeeee" sort of tantrum. He accelerated pretty quickly, so I'm sure this is something he's experienced in.
Friend picked him up and was cuddling him and basically kissing his butt to try to convince him to stop the floor show. I looked at Shamus and said "If that were EITHER one of my kids and I left them with my sister, she would not tolerate that crap for a millisecond. She would look them square in the eyes, and point her finger at them and say "Knock that off, I don't want to listen to it, your mother will be right back. Give her a minute's peace to go to the bathroom and be quiet."
So he of course started laughing at me and said "You're going to blog this, aren't you?" and you're damn right I am! Why are so many people afraid to see their children cry? Learn that you won't get what you want all of the time, kiddo, because YOU WON'T. Now, understand that I don't want to see a child crying in pain or fear. I will be the first to comfort them if that's the cause, but if they are just torqued about not getting their own way, that's too bad. Shaddup!!
My son tried the "throw myself on the floor and have a tantrum to get what I want" once and I laughed at him and walked out of the room. Rinse, repeat, ...he caught on pretty quickly that he would be getting NOWHERE with that tactic.
Let them know who's in charge!! Don't interrupt my lunch!!!
PS. Shamus, I have no idea what that note means - how can you run a process against an empty file? You doofus.
Today we lunched and as we were chatting I'm watching this three or four year old girl squirming around on a high barstool sort of chair, sort of half standing on the chair and then scootching her foot around under her fanny to sit down again. I was getting queasy wondering what sound her noggin will make when she tips the chair over and her head hits the floor. Problem one - her mother wasn't even sitting at the table with her; she was at the next one over, with Friend/Sister, Little Boy in HighChair, and Friend's child.
The mother seemed sort of flustered and I didn't really understand how she was eating her own meal. She was more or less standing up frequently to help the little girl, but almost immediately the LBIHC would demand that she sit down again. He looked to be about two. She would plead with him that "Honey I have to help (Little Girl) eat her lunch." Problem two. Do not whimper to your child that you need to do something, just because he doesn't want you to do it. I do not want to hear you whining and begging your two year old to allow you to do something. Who is the parent here?
Problem three started when Mom had to go back to the ladies' room (for a good cry, probably) and left everyone else behind. LBIHC started a "Oh no, you can't leave meeeeeeeeeeee" sort of tantrum. He accelerated pretty quickly, so I'm sure this is something he's experienced in.
Friend picked him up and was cuddling him and basically kissing his butt to try to convince him to stop the floor show. I looked at Shamus and said "If that were EITHER one of my kids and I left them with my sister, she would not tolerate that crap for a millisecond. She would look them square in the eyes, and point her finger at them and say "Knock that off, I don't want to listen to it, your mother will be right back. Give her a minute's peace to go to the bathroom and be quiet."
So he of course started laughing at me and said "You're going to blog this, aren't you?" and you're damn right I am! Why are so many people afraid to see their children cry? Learn that you won't get what you want all of the time, kiddo, because YOU WON'T. Now, understand that I don't want to see a child crying in pain or fear. I will be the first to comfort them if that's the cause, but if they are just torqued about not getting their own way, that's too bad. Shaddup!!
My son tried the "throw myself on the floor and have a tantrum to get what I want" once and I laughed at him and walked out of the room. Rinse, repeat, ...he caught on pretty quickly that he would be getting NOWHERE with that tactic.
Let them know who's in charge!! Don't interrupt my lunch!!!
PS. Shamus, I have no idea what that note means - how can you run a process against an empty file? You doofus.
Thursday, March 17, 2005
Purple Haze
so,
Purple Haze is a really good glass of beer.
Allow me to review my day.
06:00 Awaken after an unprecedented (recently anyway) 8 hours of sleep, still feeling completely exhausted. I am woman, I am invincible, I am TIRED.
08:04 Arrive, slightly late as usual, to my office, just ahead of the woman who has sat next to me for (hey Shammy how long ago did you leave? ) - um, let's call it almost two years, and yet never spoke to me until today (more on that later)
08:29 Realize that I put 2004 on a work request and THAT's why everyone is calling with ten thousand questions on it. D'oh!
09:00 Copy of the playoff brackets slapped on my desk by teammate, with invitation to give five dollars to the building bookie. (Doesn't every company have The Guy Who Runs the Pools ?) Thanks, no thanks. I really don't give a rat's posterior who is going to the dance.
10:00 Attend project meeting via conference call that I should be running but for some reason can't focus well enough to contribute to. Literally phone it in, very lamely.
11:00 Recieve flowers from Irish hubby as per annual tradition. High point of day, probably. Uh oh, it's all downhill from here. Woman who sits next to me breaks code of silence to compliment flowers (did I mention she walks by 10,000 times a day and is always staring at my screen to check what I'm doing, like I'm looking at porn or something?)
11:30 Go out for lunch with team to celebrate L's birthday. Look around at group and wonder if it will be the last time we all go out to lunch together. Note that the despair is back in all of our voices after a 3 month reprieve. Will people in a VERY different time zone be doing our work next spring?
2:02 Escape, knowing I haven't completed my to-do list, nor have I "logged my time".
2:45 Realize that it might actually be (oh my God don't say it too loud or I'll jinx it) SPRING soon and that I can take the kids out for a walk.
2:53 The little buggers have worn me down from "you need a warm coat and a hat" to "yes you can wear sweatshirts and take your scooters but you have to wear your gear." (Mr. Foreshadowing will be joining us on our walk.)
3:12 At top of hill, point out that "no, you can't ride the scooter down, you'll end up going too fast, then you'll fall and you'll get hurt."
3:14 Approximately 67% of the way down the hill, daughter begs, is allowed on scooter, and immediately goes too fast, falls and gets hurt.
3:15 Mr. Foreshadowing waves and whistles as he walks away - his work here is done.
3:16 Daughter finally stops crying while looking at digital pictures. I am silently cursing the fact that I didn't get a video clip of her falling, because Johnny V would have spit Mountain Dew out his nose if he saw it. Trip, forward, roll thunka thunka roll. (My poor baby. No blood but her ass is going to hurt tomorrow.)
4:00 return to kitchen, gag while I open a corned beef (why is the blood so SLIMY in those things?)
4:05 Realize I have neither buttermilk NOR those seeds one adds to Irish Soda Bread when one makes it once a year.
4:20 talk to UnHelpful Help Desk Man at Roadrunner who has me change my inbound mail server name even though I *CAN* receive, but I *CAN'T* send. Hmm.
4:40 Hang up on UHHDM, ignore his suggestion to re-create my id. Unplug modem completely.
4:42 Plug modem back in, recieve and send mail. "Turn it all off and then turn it all back on" works again!
5:01 Realize daughter has 30 math problems to do and never mentioned it.
5:05 Speak to Mr. Carly, who calls before he leaves work. My contribution to the conversation is "Buy. Beer. For. Me." Help with a math problem.
5:10 Beg Irish Mother In Law to arrive at 6 pm, not 5:30
5:20 Help with a math problem.
5:30 Corned beef should be done, is not even close. Open Purple Haze. Help with a math problem.
6:00 Corned beef should be done, is not even close. Finish Purple Haze. Help with a math problem.
6:30 Corned beef should be done, is close.
7:00 Corned beef is done. Irish soda bread doesn't suck. Yay!
8:00 Help with a math problem.
8:10 Help with a math problem. (you get the idea...)
9:03 Help with last math problem.
9:15 Open another beer and watch lamer than usual Apprentice.
It's just a thrill a minute here..... but it really is good beer!
Purple Haze is a really good glass of beer.
Allow me to review my day.
06:00 Awaken after an unprecedented (recently anyway) 8 hours of sleep, still feeling completely exhausted. I am woman, I am invincible, I am TIRED.
08:04 Arrive, slightly late as usual, to my office, just ahead of the woman who has sat next to me for (hey Shammy how long ago did you leave? ) - um, let's call it almost two years, and yet never spoke to me until today (more on that later)
08:29 Realize that I put 2004 on a work request and THAT's why everyone is calling with ten thousand questions on it. D'oh!
09:00 Copy of the playoff brackets slapped on my desk by teammate, with invitation to give five dollars to the building bookie. (Doesn't every company have The Guy Who Runs the Pools ?) Thanks, no thanks. I really don't give a rat's posterior who is going to the dance.
10:00 Attend project meeting via conference call that I should be running but for some reason can't focus well enough to contribute to. Literally phone it in, very lamely.
11:00 Recieve flowers from Irish hubby as per annual tradition. High point of day, probably. Uh oh, it's all downhill from here. Woman who sits next to me breaks code of silence to compliment flowers (did I mention she walks by 10,000 times a day and is always staring at my screen to check what I'm doing, like I'm looking at porn or something?)
11:30 Go out for lunch with team to celebrate L's birthday. Look around at group and wonder if it will be the last time we all go out to lunch together. Note that the despair is back in all of our voices after a 3 month reprieve. Will people in a VERY different time zone be doing our work next spring?
2:02 Escape, knowing I haven't completed my to-do list, nor have I "logged my time".
2:45 Realize that it might actually be (oh my God don't say it too loud or I'll jinx it) SPRING soon and that I can take the kids out for a walk.
2:53 The little buggers have worn me down from "you need a warm coat and a hat" to "yes you can wear sweatshirts and take your scooters but you have to wear your gear." (Mr. Foreshadowing will be joining us on our walk.)
3:12 At top of hill, point out that "no, you can't ride the scooter down, you'll end up going too fast, then you'll fall and you'll get hurt."
3:14 Approximately 67% of the way down the hill, daughter begs, is allowed on scooter, and immediately goes too fast, falls and gets hurt.
3:15 Mr. Foreshadowing waves and whistles as he walks away - his work here is done.
3:16 Daughter finally stops crying while looking at digital pictures. I am silently cursing the fact that I didn't get a video clip of her falling, because Johnny V would have spit Mountain Dew out his nose if he saw it. Trip, forward, roll thunka thunka roll. (My poor baby. No blood but her ass is going to hurt tomorrow.)
4:00 return to kitchen, gag while I open a corned beef (why is the blood so SLIMY in those things?)
4:05 Realize I have neither buttermilk NOR those seeds one adds to Irish Soda Bread when one makes it once a year.
4:20 talk to UnHelpful Help Desk Man at Roadrunner who has me change my inbound mail server name even though I *CAN* receive, but I *CAN'T* send. Hmm.
4:40 Hang up on UHHDM, ignore his suggestion to re-create my id. Unplug modem completely.
4:42 Plug modem back in, recieve and send mail. "Turn it all off and then turn it all back on" works again!
5:01 Realize daughter has 30 math problems to do and never mentioned it.
5:05 Speak to Mr. Carly, who calls before he leaves work. My contribution to the conversation is "Buy. Beer. For. Me." Help with a math problem.
5:10 Beg Irish Mother In Law to arrive at 6 pm, not 5:30
5:20 Help with a math problem.
5:30 Corned beef should be done, is not even close. Open Purple Haze. Help with a math problem.
6:00 Corned beef should be done, is not even close. Finish Purple Haze. Help with a math problem.
6:30 Corned beef should be done, is close.
7:00 Corned beef is done. Irish soda bread doesn't suck. Yay!
8:00 Help with a math problem.
8:10 Help with a math problem. (you get the idea...)
9:03 Help with last math problem.
9:15 Open another beer and watch lamer than usual Apprentice.
It's just a thrill a minute here..... but it really is good beer!
Spinning around the dial
American Idol - is everyone watching but me? I have absolutely zero interest this year and I don't know why. Good thing my DVR automatically deletes. Do you think the guy who quit really DOES have "movies" floating around on the internet? What will tomorrow's rumor be? WHOOOOO CARES?
Amazing Race -I know some people hate Romber but I am still laughing at how he convinced other players to sit and wait for four hours. Know the rules and cut your opponents off at the knees while you smile at them. Pure evil genius. What I really love is that Amber's reaction was "Yeah, good work" instead of "Oh Rob, you're so smart, that was brilliant, blah blah blah..." Do not fawn over a man like that. If HE had won Survivor I don't know if they'd still be together. (Because, you know, men are stupid tramps when they get too much fame and/or money....)
Survivor - Tatoo went home! Yaaaaaaaaaay! I bet the digital editor who had to put in all of the fuzzy blobs around her ill-fitting garments got a few days off - I'm sure he was relieved.
Apprentice - hmm. Isn't my favorite person on BOTH Burnett shows named Stephanie right now? How odd.
Gotta get to work! Happy St. Patrick's Day!
Amazing Race -I know some people hate Romber but I am still laughing at how he convinced other players to sit and wait for four hours. Know the rules and cut your opponents off at the knees while you smile at them. Pure evil genius. What I really love is that Amber's reaction was "Yeah, good work" instead of "Oh Rob, you're so smart, that was brilliant, blah blah blah..." Do not fawn over a man like that. If HE had won Survivor I don't know if they'd still be together. (Because, you know, men are stupid tramps when they get too much fame and/or money....)
Survivor - Tatoo went home! Yaaaaaaaaaay! I bet the digital editor who had to put in all of the fuzzy blobs around her ill-fitting garments got a few days off - I'm sure he was relieved.
Apprentice - hmm. Isn't my favorite person on BOTH Burnett shows named Stephanie right now? How odd.
Gotta get to work! Happy St. Patrick's Day!
Wednesday, March 16, 2005
Table for One
The kids and I met Mr. Carly at Salty's for dinner (... what was I thinking? it was so bad the last time....)
When I go out to dinner to a "real" restaurant (or even a wannabe Bistro) with my kids, it's out of sheer desperation. There is nothing in the refridgerator to provide raw materials fora nice home cooked meal, or even a boring meal, and/or there's something we need to do that evening which necessitates dining out because the only other alternative is We Will Not Eat Dinner.
It's not fun, it's WORK. I am pretty much pinging one offspring, then the next, to keep tabs on them and try to head off any socially unacceptable behavior that other diners will go home to kvetch about. Don't bang that, put this down, speak quietly, tell the lady what you want to eat, (following up every remark they make to the server with ".... please"...) etc. Constantly trying to prevent the glasses from being knocked over.
On the outer border of my radar screen I noticed a woman sitting alone at the next table. She was plain, with glasses and no makeup, uneventful hair, unremarkable clothing. She drank a soda of some sort, and played Gameboy while she waited for her food. I could almost feel her being lonely.
I'm forced to fake, a smile, a laugh,
every day of my life
My heart can't possibly break
when it wasn't even whole to start with..... - Kelly Clarkson / David Hodges / Ben Moody
When I go out to dinner to a "real" restaurant (or even a wannabe Bistro) with my kids, it's out of sheer desperation. There is nothing in the refridgerator to provide raw materials fora nice home cooked meal, or even a boring meal, and/or there's something we need to do that evening which necessitates dining out because the only other alternative is We Will Not Eat Dinner.
It's not fun, it's WORK. I am pretty much pinging one offspring, then the next, to keep tabs on them and try to head off any socially unacceptable behavior that other diners will go home to kvetch about. Don't bang that, put this down, speak quietly, tell the lady what you want to eat, (following up every remark they make to the server with ".... please"...) etc. Constantly trying to prevent the glasses from being knocked over.
On the outer border of my radar screen I noticed a woman sitting alone at the next table. She was plain, with glasses and no makeup, uneventful hair, unremarkable clothing. She drank a soda of some sort, and played Gameboy while she waited for her food. I could almost feel her being lonely.
Maybe I'm projecting. My husband said to me once that he knows there was a time when we didn't have kids, but he doesn't really remember what it felt like. I can't imagine not having them in my life. I can't imagine being single and sitting at a table in a nice restaurant eating dinner alone. At least, not for any reason other than business travel, and that didn't seem to be the case here. It seemed like more of a "I have nothing else to do so I'll take myself out to dinner" evening.
I am ever mindful of the thought that I am lucky. Lucky to have the spilled soda, and the ketchup on my sleeve, and the mental drain that comes from tracking the movements of two small Tazmanians.
My sister is single, and she doesn't go out to eat alone. Single doesn't have to mean lonely. So it's not really the case that I felt sorry for the woman because she seems to be single. I just felt sadness to see her eating all alone.
I'm forced to fake, a smile, a laugh,
every day of my life
My heart can't possibly break
when it wasn't even whole to start with..... - Kelly Clarkson / David Hodges / Ben Moody
Monday, March 14, 2005
The Pilgrimage of Litany: FAQ - Give Me Your Huddled Masses
The Pilgrimage of Litany: FAQ - Give Me Your Huddled Masses
Dammit Blogger, wil lyou post just ONE Thing For Me Without Giving Me a Hard Time?
I frickken love this blog. Go to the bottom of the post and Jump to Start.
Dammit Blogger, wil lyou post just ONE Thing For Me Without Giving Me a Hard Time?
I frickken love this blog. Go to the bottom of the post and Jump to Start.
How 'bout that?
I wrote this Friday evening, never quite finished it...so just pretend you didn't check my blog all weekend...if you read nothing else, skim the bold text!
How about that delicious tool belt who judged the reward challenge on Survivor? ( I've got a project for you!) How about my bch Stephenie knocking the crap out of her opponents in that pillow fight? How about we throw the tatoo girl into a deeeeep well? Get that fuzzy blob off my screen once and for all.
How about Trump almost firing Erin the way he did - "I'll fire you if you don't stop talking... Keep talking..." (her reaction: eyes wide in fear, shaking head no...she's not as dumb as I thought.) I loved Carolyn laughing at Tana... I had to replay it even though Mr. Carly rolled his eyes.
How about sending me a pledge to support me in the March of Dimes WalkAmerica? (April 24) I'm not proud, I'll beg... please? ... five bucks? Those of you who work at K--, flip me a note so I know you really love moi. Just consider it a bribe, or else I'll squeal, and tell CIS to block the entire Blogger universe. Pony up!! Seriously, remember that March of Dimes provides a wide range of education and support - one small example is the scrapbooking projects underway in some NICU's. I have already found this project to be very meaningful and hope to see it continue.
How about another cooking class at the Glen Sanders Mansion... Angelo the chef/owner cooked for us. No purple-suited ladies with red hats! Awesome! We got a great table as a result. Appetizer - stuffed artichokes which I have never had but loved once I figured out how to bite off the bottom of the leaves. Onion pie/ pastry that was to die for. Lasagna, but of course. Dessert was ricotta pie that one Italian woman at my table said was The Best She Ever Had. Well complimented by Italian wines... WWW.BonelloWines.com - 2003 Pinot Grigio/Chardonnay blend, and 2003 Merlot / Nero D'avola blend. Blends are apparently where it's at, peeps.
How about the bead room the little girl on Extreme Makeover Home Edition ended up with? It had more beads than the store I go to. I was literally gnashing my teeth and saying "Oh, man!!" Mr. Carly was saying "Don't look... don't get any ideas..." Should be here when they get the pictures posted....
How about the B-E-S-T St. Paddy's party in this area, and we get invited every year. Two of our oldest friends invite everyone they know to their beee-u-tiful home just south of the big city. (The finished basement is so nice the guests were jockeying to put in bids to rent it as a timeshare. Very Adirondack lodge with an amazingly huge hi-def tv which, of course, was turned to the basketball games). This party always has plenty of food and grog, wonderful people (a fun reunion from year to year, we're all friends now) and the highlight for me is the toast Kevin gives every year. He speaks of his main reason for having the party every year - to remember, celebrate, and honor the courage that our ancestors had, to get on a boat alone, to sail to a world unknown, and make a new life, in hopes that the lives of their children's children would be better in this new land. If Kevin's toast doesn't make you cry, you're not invited to next year's party. Just kidding.
I am the proud granddaughter of immigrants. I remember the stories my grandmother told about coming to this great country as a small girl (nine years old), not knowing a word of English and being teased for it, and I remember her story about sailing into NY harbor and seeing the Statue of Liberty. I remember the cake my mother made to celebrate her 50th anniversary in this country. With a little luck, I'll get my hands on a photo of that. I vividly remember Grandma bringing me to see Lady Liberty when I was about 6. I stood up in the very top, and looked out the little holes in the crown. It was amazing. I can only imagine the emotions she must have felt, seeing me, and remembering herself at that age. My grandmother, Gertraude, came to America on March 25,1925. God Bless, Grandma, wherever you are in this crazy universe.
Saturday, March 12, 2005
Walker
At my children's school, if you are not riding a bus home, you are a "Walker". Since it is a parochial school there are a number of buses that come and go from the various school districts. It's easier to get the buses off on their way, and then allow parents to pick up the other kids.
The normal routine at dismissal is that Barb, the office secretary, announces the number of whatever bus has pulled up, and those kids scramble out and get on their bus under the watchful eye of Mary Kate and whoever happens to be helping her. (No, no Ashley at our school.) Once all of the buses have come and gone, Barb (who I have known well for many years) will announce "Walkers" and a flood of children bursts out of the building. Colorful snow pants and jackets, abundant noise. A pleasant sort of chaos takes place, and we parents smile at one another, take our kids, and wander on back to our cars.
Yesterday my kids were supposed to be walkers, so I wrote the required note. It's all very organized. Barb types up the list of walkers/ absentee, etc and every teacher gets a copy by lunchtime. It sounds like a great plan, doesn't it?
When I got to school and found parking the last few buses were pulling away and walkers were already spilling out of the building. I saw my daughter, no less than 10 feet from Mary Kate, standing still and just generally behaving like she usually does. But where was Daniel? Ah, my little wild card, he was probably inside talking. I went into the lobby, looked around, and asked Barb where he was. She paged him to come down to the office.
Then a friend of Dan's said, "He got on the bus."
Houston, we have a problem, no one is at the house. I looked at Barb, she looked at me, and she picked up the phone to the bus company. She's good - her brain was clicking away and as she was dialing she was saying to me "I'll tell them to let him off at the F. family's house because then he'll be with D and H." I was impressed because it was a good plan - H babysits for us sometimes.
Barb spoke with the bus company and then gave me a face - "He got off at the house." Rut-oh. To them "Noone's home."
I looked in my cellphone for my neighbor's number, the ones we call "Aunt B and Uncle B" because they have grandchildren the same age as my kids and we have a wonderful friendship with them. I realized I didn't have it so we looked him up quickly, and called - no one home.
I realized that I had the cell number of the teenager who lives two houses down, because SHE babysits for me too. I dug it out of my purse, called her up, and said "Nik, Dan got off the bus and I'm not home, do you see him?" She looked out and said "I think he's sitting on the front steps. Let me go down there, I'll stay on the phone with you." God, I love cell phones. I may pay her bill from now on.
I could hear from her breath that she was hurrying and then she said "It's just his backpack. He's not there."
As I've indicated previously, I live in a nice quite neighborhood, tucked off the beaten path. However, at this point I think my brain switched partially off. There was a little thread spinning in the back of my mind about a car, taking him away, that I specifically closed down. Nuh-uh. I just started repeating everything Barb and Nik said.
"It's just his backpack - he's not there."
"Maybe he walked around to the deck - call his name"
I heard her screaming his name, which is what I wanted to be doing. Then - "He's ok - he was at Mrs. P's house."
He did what he was supposed to do. We had talked about which houses to go to if Mom isn't home when the bus drops you off. I just never figured he'd have to do it alone.
It may be hard for some people to understand the instant swing from "Oh my god where is he" to "I'm going to kill him." Walker to Dead Man Walking in less than 10 minutes.
Teachers and Barb apologized profusely, which I waved away because I completely understood, he forgot, he got on the usual bus. I bought flowers for Nikita. He cried, a lot. I write. That's how I let things out.
The normal routine at dismissal is that Barb, the office secretary, announces the number of whatever bus has pulled up, and those kids scramble out and get on their bus under the watchful eye of Mary Kate and whoever happens to be helping her. (No, no Ashley at our school.) Once all of the buses have come and gone, Barb (who I have known well for many years) will announce "Walkers" and a flood of children bursts out of the building. Colorful snow pants and jackets, abundant noise. A pleasant sort of chaos takes place, and we parents smile at one another, take our kids, and wander on back to our cars.
Yesterday my kids were supposed to be walkers, so I wrote the required note. It's all very organized. Barb types up the list of walkers/ absentee, etc and every teacher gets a copy by lunchtime. It sounds like a great plan, doesn't it?
When I got to school and found parking the last few buses were pulling away and walkers were already spilling out of the building. I saw my daughter, no less than 10 feet from Mary Kate, standing still and just generally behaving like she usually does. But where was Daniel? Ah, my little wild card, he was probably inside talking. I went into the lobby, looked around, and asked Barb where he was. She paged him to come down to the office.
Then a friend of Dan's said, "He got on the bus."
Houston, we have a problem, no one is at the house. I looked at Barb, she looked at me, and she picked up the phone to the bus company. She's good - her brain was clicking away and as she was dialing she was saying to me "I'll tell them to let him off at the F. family's house because then he'll be with D and H." I was impressed because it was a good plan - H babysits for us sometimes.
Barb spoke with the bus company and then gave me a face - "He got off at the house." Rut-oh. To them "Noone's home."
I looked in my cellphone for my neighbor's number, the ones we call "Aunt B and Uncle B" because they have grandchildren the same age as my kids and we have a wonderful friendship with them. I realized I didn't have it so we looked him up quickly, and called - no one home.
I realized that I had the cell number of the teenager who lives two houses down, because SHE babysits for me too. I dug it out of my purse, called her up, and said "Nik, Dan got off the bus and I'm not home, do you see him?" She looked out and said "I think he's sitting on the front steps. Let me go down there, I'll stay on the phone with you." God, I love cell phones. I may pay her bill from now on.
I could hear from her breath that she was hurrying and then she said "It's just his backpack. He's not there."
As I've indicated previously, I live in a nice quite neighborhood, tucked off the beaten path. However, at this point I think my brain switched partially off. There was a little thread spinning in the back of my mind about a car, taking him away, that I specifically closed down. Nuh-uh. I just started repeating everything Barb and Nik said.
"It's just his backpack - he's not there."
"Maybe he walked around to the deck - call his name"
I heard her screaming his name, which is what I wanted to be doing. Then - "He's ok - he was at Mrs. P's house."
He did what he was supposed to do. We had talked about which houses to go to if Mom isn't home when the bus drops you off. I just never figured he'd have to do it alone.
It may be hard for some people to understand the instant swing from "Oh my god where is he" to "I'm going to kill him." Walker to Dead Man Walking in less than 10 minutes.
Teachers and Barb apologized profusely, which I waved away because I completely understood, he forgot, he got on the usual bus. I bought flowers for Nikita. He cried, a lot. I write. That's how I let things out.
Thursday, March 10, 2005
Who's the bum?
I actually managed to get out of the house early today, without the aid of any sort of hostage negotiations. Go figure.
I wasn't having a good morning mood-wise, for reasons I won't get into at this time. So I swung by Burger King for my "I know I shouldn't eat this for breakfast but I am stressing out so I am going to" croissant with egg & cheese, OJ, and Coke. Mmm, yeah, that would be I put on weight over the past year! I went through the drive-through, then pulled around the front of the restaurant, and opened it up to make sure they didn't put anything stupid like sausage on it.
So there I was in my car in the middle of the (freezing cold covered with icy ruts) parking lot unwrapping my sandwich and I realized a homeless man was pushing a shopping cart along the narrow lane that I would need to use to get out of the parking lot.
He looked to be about my father's age, around 65. I can't really describe him other than to say, he was bundled up for winter in a knit hat and warm coat, pushing a shopping cart containing what I imagined were his meager belongings. I was almost confused, in a way, because I normally don't really see anyone around the immediate area where I live who appears to be homeless. It's a low to middle income quiet sort of little town, a 20 minute ride on the highway to "the city". While I was looking at him, he pushed the cart through the deep snow and icy ruts, and then waved at me.
I guess he thought I was waiting to let him get through that area. Great -- then I felt guilty, because I had only paused in the lot so that I could shove (14 million weightwatchers points, but who's counting, worth of) food into my mouth while I drove in my nice warm car to my cushy little office job. If I hadn't been in a hurry to get at that sandwich I probably would have almost accidentally run him over.
Then the real anxiety set in. Did he eat today? Yesterday? Should I give him money? How much? Should I give him the sandwich (no bites out of it yet) so that he would eat and not buy booze? I claim to be religious, shouldn't I be feeding the poor and the hungry? What about all of those bible passages about "when you see the poor and needy I am there," etc?? If I offered him something would he be grateful? Angry? What if the guy was unhinged and clocked me for trying to give him a handout? What to do?
While I was paralyzed by indecision, he went on his way past me.
There are times when I wish I were a man. Not for sexual reasons, but to avoid fear. A man has less to fear in this world from the opposite sex ~ men don't live with the need to consider every female they meet a potential threat to their physical well being until proven otherwise. Men I don't know make me nervous if I am alone. Chalk it up to various life experiences, my own and those of ones near and dear to me. Now, maybe this is not the typical attitude of all women, I will grant you that. Most men probably would not have been nervous giving him something. Of course, some men wouldn't BOTHER giving him something, but others at least would not be afraid.
I wasn't having a good morning mood-wise, for reasons I won't get into at this time. So I swung by Burger King for my "I know I shouldn't eat this for breakfast but I am stressing out so I am going to" croissant with egg & cheese, OJ, and Coke. Mmm, yeah, that would be I put on weight over the past year! I went through the drive-through, then pulled around the front of the restaurant, and opened it up to make sure they didn't put anything stupid like sausage on it.
So there I was in my car in the middle of the (freezing cold covered with icy ruts) parking lot unwrapping my sandwich and I realized a homeless man was pushing a shopping cart along the narrow lane that I would need to use to get out of the parking lot.
He looked to be about my father's age, around 65. I can't really describe him other than to say, he was bundled up for winter in a knit hat and warm coat, pushing a shopping cart containing what I imagined were his meager belongings. I was almost confused, in a way, because I normally don't really see anyone around the immediate area where I live who appears to be homeless. It's a low to middle income quiet sort of little town, a 20 minute ride on the highway to "the city". While I was looking at him, he pushed the cart through the deep snow and icy ruts, and then waved at me.
I guess he thought I was waiting to let him get through that area. Great -- then I felt guilty, because I had only paused in the lot so that I could shove (14 million weightwatchers points, but who's counting, worth of) food into my mouth while I drove in my nice warm car to my cushy little office job. If I hadn't been in a hurry to get at that sandwich I probably would have almost accidentally run him over.
Then the real anxiety set in. Did he eat today? Yesterday? Should I give him money? How much? Should I give him the sandwich (no bites out of it yet) so that he would eat and not buy booze? I claim to be religious, shouldn't I be feeding the poor and the hungry? What about all of those bible passages about "when you see the poor and needy I am there," etc?? If I offered him something would he be grateful? Angry? What if the guy was unhinged and clocked me for trying to give him a handout? What to do?
While I was paralyzed by indecision, he went on his way past me.
There are times when I wish I were a man. Not for sexual reasons, but to avoid fear. A man has less to fear in this world from the opposite sex ~ men don't live with the need to consider every female they meet a potential threat to their physical well being until proven otherwise. Men I don't know make me nervous if I am alone. Chalk it up to various life experiences, my own and those of ones near and dear to me. Now, maybe this is not the typical attitude of all women, I will grant you that. Most men probably would not have been nervous giving him something. Of course, some men wouldn't BOTHER giving him something, but others at least would not be afraid.
If I were a man, I could have - I WOULD have - parked the car, taken him inside, and bought eggs, coffee, fries, whatever he wanted. I wish I were a man.
There was another issue, off to the side, that I don't really deal with on a day to day basis. Someday my brother may be that man. He works in random bluecollar jobs from time to time, quits when it suits him, and cultivates the reputation of "loner." He isolates himself from people, and refuses to make plans for the future, set goals, or look to the day when he is older and not able to work. When the money is almost gone, he looks for another job. After a while, the pattern repeats itself.
So I sat there, paralyzed by indecision and anxiety, and the guilt. This is someone's brother, perhaps, and it was RIGHT in front of me to be able to help this person in just a small way. I could have made him so happy for a few moments. But I was afraid.
Finally, fear won. While I sat there trying to figure out what to do, he just continued on his way, and then I went to work. The entire day, I felt the sadness of an opportunity that had slipped away.
Wednesday, March 09, 2005
Tuesday, March 08, 2005
Snow-Spangled Carly
Oh say can you see
By the last of the light
All the snow coming down
On my driveway and sidewalk
It's a fight to the end
I will shovel the snow
I will curse the white stuff
you will find me in the drifts
And the snot streams down my face
My toes all freeze into place
And the zipper of my coat
Just gave up the ghost....
Please, would you give me a plane ticket
to a warm sunny beach
so I can lay in the sun
and drink margaritas?
Monday, March 07, 2005
Chocolate
If you know me, this is kind of funny.
I went to a fundraiser this weekend where the main point of the evening, other than raising money for the Epilepsy foundation in our area, was the chocolate dessert buffet (these pictures show about a third of it):
I hate chocolate.
I went to a fundraiser this weekend where the main point of the evening, other than raising money for the Epilepsy foundation in our area, was the chocolate dessert buffet (these pictures show about a third of it):
I hate chocolate.
Friday, March 04, 2005
Who is Lou Garcia?
Last night at dinner my daughter was telling us about a book she read at school. It was about this guy Lou Garcia and apparently he really loved the Yankees. Yammer, yammer, wore the number four, yammer yammer (she does go on quite a bit, she gets that from ME) and now no one wears the number four. At this point my husband put down his fork and said "Lou Gherig? Lou Gherig. They retired Lou Gherig's number, he was number four."
My daughter blinked and replied "Well then, who is Lou Garcia?"
She is doomed to be Just. Like. Me.
My daughter blinked and replied "Well then, who is Lou Garcia?"
She is doomed to be Just. Like. Me.
Tick tock, splish splash?
My sister is a nurse and works in a NICU, caring for preemies. She had a dream last night that some of the babies were sitting on the edge of a pool, dipping their feet in the water, laughing, chit-chatting and generally doing what people do at a pool.
We decided this is a novel variation on Ally Mc Beal's dancing baby.
Only, my sister is not crazy, she weighs more than 85 pounds, and this happened while she was sleeping.
We decided this is a novel variation on Ally Mc Beal's dancing baby.
Only, my sister is not crazy, she weighs more than 85 pounds, and this happened while she was sleeping.
Thursday, March 03, 2005
Dragonfly
I made a new necklace... click here for a larger view
I'm very happy with how it came out, especially since I love dragonflies. The larger pink beads are somtimes referred to as "fiberoptics" and the smaller ones are swarovski crystals which are very sparkly in person.
To celebrate my accomplishment and to get me through a "fun" meeting this afternoon I went to Michaels and bought a bunch of crystals and silver beads and so on. More to come!
I'm very happy with how it came out, especially since I love dragonflies. The larger pink beads are somtimes referred to as "fiberoptics" and the smaller ones are swarovski crystals which are very sparkly in person.
To celebrate my accomplishment and to get me through a "fun" meeting this afternoon I went to Michaels and bought a bunch of crystals and silver beads and so on. More to come!
Wednesday, March 02, 2005
Veni, Vidi, Vino
-- I Came, I Saw, I Drank Some Good Wine
Two weeks ago, at my previous wine class I tried the following wines (all red)
- 2001 Malbec - Pedro del Castillo (Argentia, very nice, and Ian, I hope you are getting well soon)
- 2000 Domaine Duloquet Anjou (a French cabernet)
- 2003 Georges Dubceuf Beaujolais (gamay noir grape)*
*spelling is optional, right?
I did not like the cabernet, but the others were great.
I bought a bottle of Louis Jadot 2002 Beaujolais and had it that weekend with the brother and sister in law who hooked us up with the wine classes. We had it with some big fat hamburgers and homemade pasta salad. It was somewhat tart and had a sort of blackberry taste to me and we all enjoyed it
****************************
Last night, we went for our final class in the introductory series, which covered sparkling wine. Note that ONLY sparkling wine made in a very specific part of France can be called Champagne. Oh, those French people.
Ted started off with The Paris 1976 testing. Oh, Google it. It bored me.
We learned words like riddling (turning and tilting a bottle to work the yeast toward the top so that it can be removed) and that wine that says "in THIS bottle" on the label is different from wine fermented "in THE bottle". The latter is a subtle hint that your sparkling wine was fermented in a huuuuuuuuuge bottle. AKA, a vat with a cover.
One or more of the following grapes is used:
- chardonnay
- pinot noir
- pinot meunier
Most sparkling wine is "nonvintage" which means you won't see a year on the bottle. But enough of the dry stuff (haha), I have to tell you about Ted.
Ted, as you may recall, teaches the classes and last time he had a brand new haircut. This time Ted was sporting a bit of razor stubble, perhaps 3 days worth, and I have to say it worked for me. He gave us little bits of advice such as the fact that you don't want to leave the bottle unattended once you pull the cage off because the carbonation inside could pop the cork, and of course be careful where you point that thang, "do not let it encounter someone's face". (My brother in law quietly proposed a 30 second cork rule to me. Deal.)
By the way, if you pop the cork carefully (hold a towel over it and ease it out) and the champagne still slops all over out of the bottle you probably didn't chill it enough, according to Ted. He went on to say that his favorite wine to drink is sparkling wine because it is fizzy and gets you "tiddlier" faster. I don't think you can use that word on a Scrabble board. Ted was pretty much lit up like a Christmas tree by the end of class but it worked on him.
One woman (the friend of a woman who always takes off her damn shoes, which drives me crazy, I can't stand either one of them) asked how you "should" make mimosas (I hate people who fawn over people and want to know the "right" way to make something as easy as a damn mimosa. Put the OJ in a glass and add champagne. A little, a lot, suit yourself. Sheesh!) Ted's reply ("In big batches") was rather funny and didn't comment on what a stupid question she had asked. He's a good guy.
Here's something to keep in mind. Wines tend to be dry or sweet, and sparkling wines are no exception. There are words used to indicate the relative sweetness of a wine... Naturel, Brut, and Extra Dry. Just to mess with the minds of people like me, Extra Dry actually means it is sweet. Go figure. Another hint from Ted is that the cheaper the sparkling wine is, the sweeter it probably is.
Here are the wines we tried:
- Gruet Winery, Brut, from Albuquerque New Mexico. How about that? It was very "classic" and dry and crisp. Exactly what you think of when you think of "champagne"
- L'Hereu de Raventos i Blanc, Cava .... a spanish wine. Sort of fuzzy-ish like a peach texture. Different. I liked it, my brother in law, not so much.
- Henkell ... a riesling.. very sweet...so of course it said Trocken on the label which means Dry, which means sweet. Got it? Me neither, but Ted said to tell people to try this if you don't think you like sparkling wine.
I also learned that you really CAN eat the nasty rind on a piece of Brie. As if. It's the mold, peeps. But we did have a nice Brie from the Champagne area of France. It was called Chaource. The goat's milk cheese for the evening was called Unie Kaas, and it was from Holland. Both were great.
Don't forget, always use the tall skinny flutes if you can. Champagne that is all bubbled out is not your friend. But I am. Ex-specially if you share a bottle of wine with me.
PS. More about ICE WINE... holy crap... it is so expensive. Ted showed me one that was $100, for a bottle smaller than the bottles of Pepsi in the average vending machines. There was a $20 one but I'm not sure it would be worthwhile to try.
Cheers!
Tuesday, March 01, 2005
We're pushing forward...
I am a bit of a news hound... I check CNN and MSNBC here and there during the day so that I know what's going on. So let me say Ahah! I told you Robin Williams was the funniest man alive. He still is ! My man was Censored!!
I came across that link while browsing around to find out what the buzz was on last night's disastrous Bachelorette finale'. The funny thing is, there is hardly an article to be had. It's strange, but there is a ghostly silence over the internet, as though all of the ABC publicists are simply hiding under their desks saying "Nuh uh, nothing happened." There is this.
Who's watching Romber tonight on the Amazing Race? I am torn. The DVR, it is a wonderful toy. It can record two-two-two shows in one!! But what do I watch, and what do I relegate to that special place on my to-do list we call "probably never?" I decided that I simply MUST watch NYPD Blue tonight. I need to see Jimmy Smits. It's that simple. He is hosting the penultimate hour, the "this is all the stuff you missed if you're a loser who never watched this show" episode begining at 9 pm. Jimmy is on my "celebrities I'd love to kidnap to an exotic locale if given the chance" list. Yeah, there would be handcuffs involved. What of it? He's a COP.
At any rate, I am going to refrain from doing any housecleaning today, because it's WINE CLASS NIGHT, kiddies! Tonight - champagne. We are in the midst of a snow globe scene here so I just called to make sure it's still on. A man answered and replied to my inquiry that "Ted's going to go ahead and do it, the snow is tapering out so we're pushing forward." I repeated that to Mr. C, who pointed out that Ted may very well refer to himself in the second person, but it still makes a heck of a title, huh?
PS: Honorary mention on my list of Fabulous 40's goes to Mrs. TNO, the lovely wife of Erik with a K.
I came across that link while browsing around to find out what the buzz was on last night's disastrous Bachelorette finale'. The funny thing is, there is hardly an article to be had. It's strange, but there is a ghostly silence over the internet, as though all of the ABC publicists are simply hiding under their desks saying "Nuh uh, nothing happened." There is this.
Who's watching Romber tonight on the Amazing Race? I am torn. The DVR, it is a wonderful toy. It can record two-two-two shows in one!! But what do I watch, and what do I relegate to that special place on my to-do list we call "probably never?" I decided that I simply MUST watch NYPD Blue tonight. I need to see Jimmy Smits. It's that simple. He is hosting the penultimate hour, the "this is all the stuff you missed if you're a loser who never watched this show" episode begining at 9 pm. Jimmy is on my "celebrities I'd love to kidnap to an exotic locale if given the chance" list. Yeah, there would be handcuffs involved. What of it? He's a COP.
At any rate, I am going to refrain from doing any housecleaning today, because it's WINE CLASS NIGHT, kiddies! Tonight - champagne. We are in the midst of a snow globe scene here so I just called to make sure it's still on. A man answered and replied to my inquiry that "Ted's going to go ahead and do it, the snow is tapering out so we're pushing forward." I repeated that to Mr. C, who pointed out that Ted may very well refer to himself in the second person, but it still makes a heck of a title, huh?
PS: Honorary mention on my list of Fabulous 40's goes to Mrs. TNO, the lovely wife of Erik with a K.
Happy Birthday DK !!!
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