Buy this

details

Really, this is the best damn oven mitt in the world. No stains, no gunk, it won't scorch you if it gets wet. Pampered Chef products are excellent.

PS: School's out! I have no homework for two months.

Wheeeeeeeeeeeeee!

Yeah, hi

AAAAAAAAAAAAghhhhhh.

The end of a school year always kills me.

Pool day, amusement park day, crap like that. I'm paying so much money each month for tuition!!! You are dragging my kids all around the county and not TEACHING THEM STUFF.

Whatever. I've surrendered.

I always forget until the VERY last minute that I really should send in a little gift for the teachers. D'oh. Ran out at lunchtime today to get "simply certificates" (they can use to eat out at their favorite restaurant. How many mugs/apples do teachers need, really?) Tomorrow is the LAST. DAY. OF. SCHOOL. Praise the deity of your choice. Karma, whatever - I'm really not choosy. I'm so effing happy I don't have ANY HOMEWORK FOR THE NEXT TWO MONTHS.

Today at 5 pm I was sitting in my car waiting for Daughter to get back from amusement park day. It was an excellent thunderstorm. Problem 1: Son is afraid of thunderboomies, and we were in my car. Problem 2: He had a baseball game at 6 PM. Somehow, the storm passed and we still had the game. His last game. Out of about 16, he's played FOUR, and I've seen two. Rain sucks. (Usually)

My friend saw Jack last night, at a political fundraiser, and teased him about Chico. ("Where's Chico?" "I dunno!" ) Bahaha! He must think everyone in the company knows about this joke. If this makes no sense, refer to the "Where's my Pace hat?" link at right. I STILL don't know if he's seen the video. It was excellent. Thanks Johnny V!!

I'm so frustrated that I don't sit near Jack anymore. I can't hear him open my mail!! Oh well. I have a plan. I have a friendship emerging with someone cool who sits right near him. She might spy for me. Lest you think I'm a terrible person, I honestly do like her and we talk about various Things I won't detail here - just common ground -- but my point is I'm not one to blatantly use a friendship, unlike some people I know. (Refer to post around last May about an friendship I ex-ed. Do I miss Joyce? noooooooooooo.)



PS: the caveman / Geigo ad makes me want to barf. Seriously. It sucks.

Gooooodnight!

Whomp

It's been spring forever, very rainy, very boring, and school has been slowly winding down, and all of a sudden SLAM, it's summer, and 90* today. Which of course means pool time with Suzy today (shhhhh, don't tell my kids.....)

So why are there still hockey games on TV? How long DOES that season go on anway? Aren't the four seasons of the year football, basketball, baseball and soccer? Seems like it with my son. ( I cleverly talked him out of playing soccer this fall. My alternative is to go quietly bananas in September when I have 12 million things to do, and I'm sitting on a soccer field. It was not very hard to convince him that he's not all that interested in it anymore, so I don't feel too guilty.)

Snuck up to the choir loft today. I like going up in the summer, I sing duets with Bette and get to listen to Stanley's one-liners. We're officially on hiatus for the summer but I would rather be up there, catching a slight breeze from the windows and poking through the old music.

This is my last week of "short days" at work. Normally I work Monday through Friday and I leave at 2pm. During the summer I work 3 days a week, 8 to 5. By "8" I mean "I often get there somewhere around 8:12" and by "5" I mean "I leave a few minutes early if I can help it." I really need to work on that.

Good art

This is the kind of thing I like to hang in my cubicle so that I can pretend I'm not chained to a desk "pushing paper" all day long. Because it's digital paper, but it's still just as bad.

Willie Holdman

ABC me

kind of fun...
ACCENT: new yawk, just a little. I was born in the Bronx an hour before that giant blackout.

BIBLE BOOK THAT I LIKE: psalms

CHORE I DON'T CARE FOR: plunging the effing toilet when my kids jam it up with 12,000 sheets of toilet paper.

DOG OR CAT: no way, are you kidding me? I have two kids, that's mess enough

ESSENTIAL ELECTRONICS: Sirius(you knew this one right?)

FAVORITE COLOGNE: Hmmm. "Slightly sweaty guy". I hate cologne clouds.

GOLD OR SILVER: white gold - so there.

HANDBAG I CARRY MOST OFTEN: I believe I lack the female "must carry big bag-acus" gene. I like random small ones. One card (debit).

INSOMNIA: yes... I do not sleep through the night. I wake up in the wee small hours and feel very alone hearing the soft zoom of trucks drive by on the highway near my house.

JOB TITLE: Senior Business Systems Analyst. (nothing to do with my age, thanks)

KIDS: yup...

LIVING ARRANGEMENTS: shacked up in a tiny 3 BR with 1.5 bath, but a nice family room and yard

MOST ADMIRABLE TRAIT: Um, dunno. Seriously. Well, good sense of humor (I hope)

NAUGHTIEST CHILDHOOD BEHAVIOR: stealing the paper boy's money around age 10 (Suzy did it too!!)

OVERNIGHT HOSPITAL STAYS: two kids, plus my heart surgery two years ago.

PHOBIAS: drowning's high up there...

QUOTE: changes from day to day.... To the world, you may be just another (guy), but to me, baby you are the world.

RELIGION: raised Lutheran, converted to Catholic for various reasons, some of them being the right ones... I sing in the choir now

SIBLINGS: two.

TIME I WAKE UP: 5:30 a.m.....wahhhhhhhhh.

UNUSUAL TALENT OR SKILL: counted cross stitch? cake decorating? OK, those are dorky hobbies but I like them. Oh wait - doing wierd math problems in my head and thinking aloud and having Suzy go "how do you DO that?" (like what something costs if it's 30% off or something stupid like that)

VEGETABLE I REFUSE TO EAT: Most. Which would be why I'm feuding with my scale.

WORST HABIT: Obsessing over small details that somehow seem HUGE to me

X-RAYS: uh... when I had the flu for 3 weeks they did various test to make SURE it was just the flu. Oh, and I've had my boobies done... get a mamogram today, girls. Great fun (smoooosh)

YUMMY STUFF I COOK: breads... cheesecake... cookies...

ZOO ANIMAL I LIKE MOST: giraffes are kind of cool. Lions too.

tag yourself... play along if you want...

Moving day

Moving is a giant pain in the ass.

My co-workers and I have been moved from one side of the floor to the other. I was sort of the "coordinator girl" because I am a suckup and told my boss I'd be happy to do it. I think it's Big Fun. I know I'm a dork, I wear it proudly. But who will be laughing at bonus time? That's right, ME, bitches. Bosses hate this crap because all everyone does is complain, so my boss loves me right now. She didn't have to listen to all of the whining today that I just let rollll right off me.

Some people moved twice, because they had to move over to my side, to get out of the way, and then they had to move back to our brand spanky new cubes. One girl said to me "the next time I'm going to pack my stuff is to quit this job." Some people are so cranky. (Said girl is in her 30's. Why do I think of my peers as girls and guys rather than grown women and men? Discuss.)

Moving is FUN, people! Go through your stuff and see how useless all of those papers are that you carefully file in desk drawers. (I have approximately 10 manilla folders. I have been doing my present job for :::thinks:::: eight years. It's the digital age, people. Don't save paper. Unless it's scrapbooks. But that's a completely different post.)

I personally packed all of my stuff into two boxes. (the boxes are about 8x10x18" or so.) This was only because I had a bunch of different flavors of tea bags, my small christmas, um, HOLIDAY tree that I put on my desk, my rock collection, and photos of my kids. Otherwise, it would have been one box.

It's funny to see how much shit people will actually put right out on their desk. I have 3 or 4 magnetic frames that I use to display photos of Daughter and Son, right on my overhead cupboards (which are largely empty). Other people have 12 framed pictures of their kids on their desk... of their TWO kids... Hello, each year, put the new picture in the same frame, over the old one.

It amuses me that the people who I see doing the least work have the most chochtkes in their office and they're SO BUSY THEY CAN"T FIND TIME TO PACK. ( Affix velcro to forehead and wrist, press together, sigh...)

The biggest geek in the department could not properly label his boxes, and I had to open them to find out whose they were. (There is a square at one end of the box that indicates "PUT LABEL HERE" in 56 point type. Book smart, no common sense. I think some embryos wait in only one line, and get the end of day "take everything that's left" deal, and forget to go get in the other line. The angels just laugh at them.)

Another fun thing is the guy who told me 42 times today "I don't have my phone yet. " It got to the point where just for fun I would walk by his office and say "did you get your phone yet?" (This was actually Jack, who I'm torturing with the whole Pace Hat gig. So I did get him his phone right after lunch, as soon as I found the ONE Phone Guy who was assigned to move some 200+ phones today.)

Despite my 6 or 7 email reminders, no one who moved went back to put a chair in their old office. So I was paid an obscene amount per hour today to push chairs around my floor. I'm fine with that.

The most important facet of my personal move is that my Sirius radio still picks up an excellent signal. I know you were all worried about that, so you can rest easy now. The girl who sits two cubes away from me can not get a signal. She has a much nicer Sirius receiver than me (records and saves up to 50 hours worth of programming or something like that) but her antenna is apparently much more fickle. Go figure.

Well, that's about all I have to say about moving. I'm having a big glass of wine and it's kicking in, so I'm going to put my feet up and order a pizza. Adios everybody! Throw away some clutter today!

When the stars go blue

Tim & Faith

Tim

Gotta Have Faith

So,

last night I saw Faith Hill & Tim McGraw.

The show was great, but me being ME, I have a few things to say.

Dear Faith,

Girl... the outfit? You are a megamillionaire. You were wearing an outfit I might wear to work if I were so inclined. Gray pants and a black blouse? Honey. I know, I know, you had a great jacket on at first, which vanished right after your first song. Yes, this arena is always so Em-effing hot. Sorry about that, but aren't you from the south??

The black sneakers.... sneakers! I did not pay $100 to see you in anything less than 3" heels. You are a supermodel. Just breathe. Work it, girl. You can try to fake it by bouncing on your toes if you want to but I'll still notice. You're beautiful* , in the plainest outfit possible with fugly sneakers.

Now, I realize that you have that funky-cool stage that is actually a giant glass video monitor. It rocks, really. I'm sure that sucker is slippery especially when Tim throws water at the crowd.
Do you nag him about that? I noticed you two did NOT look at each other once until your very last two songs. I'm sure he's a real good man... but were you fighting last night???

It was interesting the way you arranged the sets. It must be fun rising up out of the stage for the opening duet with him. Then he goes away, you do your set, then he comes back for more duet fun, then you go away... he does his set, you come back for that duet that sounds like something Johnny Cash and June might have sung... then you wrap it up. It's all good. Well, most of it.

I'm a little bummed that you spent a lot of your time facing the OTHER side of the arena, but your big screen tv's made up for it.

But really. Fire whoever dresses you. You should have shoes that you can move in, that are a tad more Diva at the same time, and cooler clothes (in so many ways). You've got the money. You've got MY money!

Also, I hate to seem like I am really bagging on you, but what is with your hair? Long extensions. No curls? and the plain, plain style. You grabbed a couple of bobby pins to hold a piece or two behind your ears before you rose up out of that trap door. No, woman, no cry. ** Just get your hair done when you're going to sing in front of 16,000 people.

I would be severely remiss if I did not say that your voice was fantastic last night. Absolutely sublime. So what if most of the chicks in the arena were just waiting for you to be done so the guy in the red shirt would appear? Fireflies.

My sister is having a spasm right now reading these words, but... mehhh... I'm not a huge Tim fan... frankly, it's like we never loved at all. I find him to be a snoozer. I guess it's just the cowboy in me.

The biggest problem I had with the concert was the pacing.An uptempo song, a little bit of momentum would build, then everything would grind to a halt with a slow song. Something like that. Put the entire set list to a CD and listen and you'll see what I mean.

Oh, by the way, could you let Tim know that I paid to hear HIM sing too, not for him to stand there and hold the mike? (.... so that the crowd could do a karaoke version of his song, and then cheer for themselvesssszzzzzzzz) I mean, I like it, I love it... but tell HIM to sing.

The crowd.

Oh, the crowd. I love the way you love me. Honestly, at any given time there were LITERALLY 500 people walking up and down in the aisles, going for a beer then getting a pretzel then going for another beer and omygosh now I have to use the bathroom and SIT DOWN PEOPLE, YOU PAID $100 TO PLANT YOUR ASS IN A SEAT TONIGHT SO JUST DO IT ALREADY AND GET OUT OF MY WAY.... fine, fine, go get a beer but don't take the girl.

Yeah, I am a little tired today from sitting in the traffic jam after the show. But it is well with my soul. I'm sure there will come a day when you'll be around here again and I'll be back to see you.

Live like you were dying. Just work on the sneakers. If nothing else, the sneakers.

Your friend,
Carly


* didn't sing that one... darn it....

** yeah, they really DID sing a reggae song. I am not even sure I can SPELL reggae correctly.

Buy this

Joss Stone, Kelly Clarkson, and a tie dyed shirt, in a blender. Buy it. Play it. Play it again.

Try this link, but don't hate me if it doesn't work:


Sandi Thom - I Wish I was a Punk Rocker

Helena

Today my great Aunt Helena passed away. She was 97.

I have her bible sitting on her desk in my front room, and one of the verses marked inside the front cover is Psalm 105,

(4)Remember me O Lord, with the favour that thou bearest unto thy people: O visit me with thy salvation;

(5)That I may see the good of thy chosen, that I may rejoice in the gladness of thy nation, that I may glory with thine inheritance.

my Basil is dying

I got a flower pot full of basil seedlings from my son for mother's day. My heart sank.

I have a black thumb. These suckers don't have long to live. The decline has begun. I've overwatered them because the dirt at the top of the pot always felt dry. They were wilting so I watered more. There were about a billion little tiny unsuspecting plants, and many of the smallest have already faded away.

I've moved most of them to a flower pot out on death row (aka my deck).

AAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!

I do not need this on top of the "omg it's finals this week" tension in our house. English, math, science. Is it Thursday yet?

More Chico Fun

The other day I ambled into Jack's office and pretended to know NOTHING about the whole Chico/ Pace hat gag. He made it clear that I am a suspect since I sit on the other side of the common cubicle wall that the hat was encroaching on when it was stolen. I stayed cool though, smirking and asking dumb questions about the general plot (this came very easily to me, naturally). I left it with "I'm afraid I can't help you with this, Jack" and his retort of "Oh, I bet you can".

After an "omg, omg" whispered conversation with my friend who sits next to me, we have decided to hope that he has NO idea who's doing it and is just grasping at straws and accusing everyone near him. (Since, he told my boss that he suspects the OTHER girl who sits next to me.)

Johnny V was talked into filming a decoy movie for me. The crucial elements are that it's on another floor of our building (which is clear to anyone who works there) and that the donkey goes into the men's room. It's up on the Where's my pace hat blog.

We missed the actual premiere of the movie on Jack's PC. Darn it! We are hoping it gets some attention Monday while we're around to listen.

Where have YOU been?

Well, let's see.

I know, I've missed you too. It's not you, it's me. Actually, it's BLOGGER, which seems to crash a lot the last couple of days (usually, when I want to post.)

I had a few of my PTA partners in crime (oooh, that just sounds bad) over on Monday night. I ran around cutting up some fresh fruit and thawing bonbons and making sure I had a cooler of soda & wine on the deck. They ate almost nothing. The funny part was Mr. C had assisted in cleaning the ENTIRE house (why do you think I invite people over? works every time) and these women literally walked in the front door and out onto the deck and stayed there the entire night. It was a working meeting, so I can understand, but.... isn't that always the way?

Tuesday was this year's Dance Recital/dress rehearsal. I help my friend take portaits of all of the little darlings. You recall, last year, I ranted about Moms who try to use our backdrops. You know, "girls, stand here and I'll take your picture". Um, no, sorry, but you can let them stand there and I will take their picture. You pay me. That's how this works. The owner of the dance school did not rent our backdrop. She allowed us to come and sell our photographs but she's not giving us any fee. This year I actually got into it with one of the Moms.

Most people PURCHASE the group shot of their little darling's tap class, for $8. But a few people stand right behind the photographer and try to shoot a quick one with their digital camera. Dammit. I do not go into your home and help myself to your stuff!! What I typically do (at the request of the photographer who owns the business) is remind the Moms when they whip their cameras out while we're getting a group lined up on the backdrop, that our
company's policy is that they not take photos on our backdrop. There are several signs posted to that effect that we politely point to. (Let me point out that a professional photographer's backdrop costs in the neighborhood of five to eight HUNDRED dollars. OK? )

SO I said my usual "Ladies, please, I need to ask you not to take pictures of the girls while they're on our backdrop" and this one bitch wheeled around and said "You don't have to yell at us." I looked her straight in the eye and said "Ma'am, I'm not yelling at anyone." At this point I flashed back to my father who would often pound his fist on the table and shout "I'm not yelling!" -- but anyway. I actually was NOT yelling. Some of you who "really know
me" have seen me pissed. I was actually amused, for the most part.

She went on and on, "yes you are, you've been yelling at people and being very rude all night and lots of people are talking about it." Kiss my curvy ass, lady, you're the one being rude right now. It was kind of funny because I'd actually only done my "please don't" thing twice the entire evening.

I then pointed out that "Ma'am, I'm just doing my job." She went on and on about how she's paying good money for photographs, and I said "then why do you need to take that picture? You will get one group photo free with any package purchased, and the photographers are just trying to earn a living, you know." At this point I was annoyed. I have to admit she did push my buttons a little bit.

Well, she asked if I owned the company. I smiled and said "I do not." The owner, who I have known since 7th grade, was standing next to me. The woman asked for her business card. (Why??? So she could call and yell some more??? D'oh.) Liz pointed out that her phone number is on all of the order forms. At that the woman stormed away. Bye now.

Last year I had someone argue with me but she at least has the class to come back a while later and say "You know, I'm really sorry, I was wrong, and I apologize." This one never did. I'm losing SO much sleep over it. Snicker. Incidentally, she still hasn't called Liz.

TIM MCGRAW AND FAITH HILL are going to be singing up in my neck of the woods soon and I'm going to make the trek with my sister. I can't freaking wait. I am bringing my daughter as a reward for her hard work all year. The school year is almost over and it has been grueling. She does homework from 3:30 to 5:30 each day and often has a test to study for after dinner. This is after being up at 6:30 to get to school by 8, home at 3. In addition she had a substantial amount of homework over Christmas, Easter, and Spring breaks, as well as most weekends. I feel like she has this giant monster on her back and she hasn't had any respite since September.

We are actually right on the edge as to whether she will pass science or not, but she did get a good grade on "the skeleton" test. It was a 96!!! Yehah! It is clear, however, that we are bound for the IEP path once again. We are currently undergoing the process of getting things in place so that she will receive assistance next year. In order to do what we need, she has to have the label of "learning disabled" and I recognize that it's necessary, but it makes me sad. As if I (or anyone else) were to blame for the complications during her birth (if they are even the cause... and we'll never really know.)

She has so many talents, and yet there are concepts she has extreme difficulty with, and it breaks my heart to see from the discouraged look on her face sometimes that she thinks she's stupid. I see her working so hard, day in and day out, trying and trying to complete the mountains of work she has, and never giving up, even though sometimes she will come home with a failing grade anyway. I never have to discipline her to get her to sit down and do her
work. But 75 is a passing grade, and sometimes she just doesn't quite make that.

She is an avid reader with good comprehension and uses voculary slightly above the average child in her grade, but when it comes to putting that to paper, she struggles with grammar and spelling and dropped words. She is quite good at solving math equations accurately, but has trouble deciphering a word problem to figure out what the necessary math equation should be.

She sings like an angel, and knows exactly what needs to be done on the altar when she serves at mass. She is unfailingly kind and protective of her little brother, and helped take care of Sicky without any complaint or disruptive behavior. But she can't tell time, and she is eleven now. I have blamed this on various things (my own laziness and bad parenting, a preponderance of digital clocks, etc.) and it doesn't help matters that a quarter of a dollar is 25 cents,
but a quarter of an hour is 15 minutes, and when you look at the clock the hand will be on the 3 but it really means 15 because you have to think "5, 10, 15" in your head. It's effed up. She just doesn't understand it.

There are a number of other "perceptual based performance issues" (educator speak) that she has including difficulty with things like jigsaw puzzles and orienting herself to get from point A to point B. I am hoping to arrange it so that she stays after school to meet with the people who are going to be providing assistance to her. I don't want her to miss regular classes OR band/choir so I am hoping that all works out.

I guess I'm writing about all of this because I am stewing over how to explain to her what we're going to be doing. I'm not sure I want her to ever know about the label. I don't know what the "right" thing is.

Hopefully this won't be as bad as when we held her back to repeat first grade. Kids can be so cruel.

Someone's got it

If you have about $10 million, maybe 25, you can buy a Burger boat.

I don't have that many dollars. But click on the Fleet link, and find the virtual tours so that we can dream about it together.


(When you click on Our Fleet, you'll see a list of various boats along the bottom. You can click on various parts of the sketches to see photos. All nicer than my actual house. Not that I'm jealous or anything.)

Like a movie but not

Sometimes I feel like my life is actually a reality TV show and I have one or more people "planted" in it, who are there to complicate my life as much as possible. I swear.

What was that movie with Jim Carey?

Is school out yet for the summer? (Answer, not until June 21.)

Can I please, PLEASE stop having my personal schedule turned upside down by a shrimp saying "I have SO much homework, Mom" at exactly the worst possible time?? My favorite assignments are the ones where "all the work will be done in school" .... except for researching facts and printing pictures, which I have been doing for a good four hours now with shrimp alongside (because otherwise 6 hours would be filled with staring absently at the screen and getting only 50 - 75% of the work done).

(Said shrimp already being almost as tall as me, the high school years will be the REAL adventure. I'm already mentally rehearsing "yelling up"...)

Friday Find-Carly Fun

Well it's been quite a day.... not... rather ordinary and uneventful.

At least 3 people I know are in Vegas and I. AM. NOT. This is so wrong. Another friend is in PARIS with his beloved. Paris, people. I'm here in... well, my house. Which is definitely NOT IN PARIS.

Here are my latest results in the "weird google searches that have lead people to me" vein:

• Pointed leaf picker - what the hell is that?
• J Lo butt.... yeah, that's gonna lead you right to my baby sister....
• I am still gettting the DJ Carly tell me where you are thing, which I don't understand, and it's creepy
• The Gray's/ Dwight searches are fine with me. Did you see the Office marathon? It was great. Somehow I missed all of those when they originally aired so it was like a little gift from NBC for buying that bobblehead.
• that damn feifel.... are you kidding me?
• housewives addicted to hydrocodone (oops... none here, thanks...)

I'm going to go see if I can find myself. Haha.

Chico and the Man

I've been busy taking care of my little sicky friend, and in my spare time I'm playing a joke on a coworker. SO, I haven't blogged here very much. What little time I've had on the computer, I've been using for the prank.

This guy moved into a cubicle near me (his cube is backed up against my cube, but it's entrance is in the next aisle over.) He put this ugly foam hat on top of the cabinet in HIS cube, but whenever I walked into MY cube the thing was staring me right in the face. It had to go.

So I got permission from me bossy, and I stole it, about a month ago. Every few days since then, I've printed off a digital picture featuring the hat, or the story I'm developing about the hat, and I put it in interoffice mail to him.

He has no idea that it's me.

This was the first one I left for him. You can visit Where's my pace hat? for the updates. (I am Person, and Spy. Just in case he sees the blog open on someone's desktop, I didn't want that to spoil the joke.)

This may last for a while. Hahaha!

Remember

It's not about cookouts, camping, and beer.

It's about the 1,000,000 American soldiers who have died in war for our country.

At 3 PM on Monday, no matter where you are, stop and pause for a moment in gratitude.

Ants in my plants

Well, I'm baaaaaaaaaaack. A little sleep deprived. I wrote bad haiku in the recovery room after my friend's surgery while I waited for her to not be pale and have gray lips anymore. I won't share. (It was about the fact that my tv was broken and we had at least 20 blankets - they were everywhere. )

The last few days have been a blur of try-to-eat-something, take-your-medicine, (HOW do people get addicted to hydrocodone? It really sucks) and so on. I feel a little disoriented.

Whenever I called home my son would barely talk to me even though he really missed me. Just one of those quirky things with kids.

I decompressed by working on my garden this afternoon. I weeded, chopped down sorry little bare tulip stems, planted several new flowers that I've never put in the garden before.

I was hot as hell and it was so humid that I almost passed out a couple of times; and I think I have a spider bite. Good times. But the garden is going to rock this year.

Later

I've gotta go do a thing for someone, so I won't be around for a few days.

It's not you, it's me. Hahaha. Don't you hate it when someone tells you that?

Meanwhile here is a card I made for a friend. It's for her wedding and it's supposed to be signed by the choir (she is a member). The only problem is that they saw it, and they all think it's too pretty to write on. I'm really flattered but the POINT IS TO SIGN IT!!! So now I am going to bring a BLANK card next time I see them all, they can sign the blank one, and we'll tuck it into the pretty one. Or something like that.

In the words of Ahhhnold, "I'll be back."

I have no opinion

Well last week or so Johnny V hinted that I rant a little too often.

Therefore, I have no opinion on any of the following:

• the family who brought their baby to be baptised and actively played with the baby in the middle of mass, making faces and shaking her around so that Babygirl would laugh and shriek at eardrum-splitting levels. It's not like we were trying to sing in Latin or anything
• the EFFING rain (wait, did I give away my opinion there?)
• the kid at the First Communion service today who didn't know our Bishop's name when it was his turn to read it in the prayer of the faithful (thoughts: he should be hearing this name at mass each week... he is in second grade so he should be able to sound it out... and this bishop is often on tv)
• my Dwight Schrute bobblehead being made in China
• the fact that the memo about parking (which appears on the back of the bobblehead box) sounds suspiciously like one I actually got last month at work
• Desperate Housewives because I don't care enough to watch for the last few weeks
• LOST because my DVR gagged on it and wouldn't record it last week so I took that as a Sign

However I do have opinions on the following things, which are all awesome:

• my neighbor who mowed my lawn in the 4 minutes that it wasn't raining on Thursday afternoon
• Mother-son event for school - we go to a "sports barn" where the kids play in batting cages, we eat pizza, then play basket ball, kickball, etc. My baby and I got 5th in the obstacle course race. Not bad for a 40 year old chick who never works out(I wore my "slow - 40 year old at play" shirt)
• the actual Dwight bobble head doll, because if I ignore the made in China part, there is something about watching that face with its smirk (here is a link for my friends in England) jiggle and bobble all around, that makes me laugh, and laugh, and laugh.
• Stanley's cell phone ringing in the middle of mass. Truly awesome (recall, he is the organist.)

That is all.

Ways to annoy me on a Saturday

If I have to be at church early on a Saturday morning to sing for a First Communion service, park a big utility truck in the middle of the road and put out lots of guys with flags so that I have to go a different way. Because there are only two streets that get me to this church and I just went past the other one.

If you are all dressed up in a nice blue suit because you are receiving your First Holy Communion, stand around in the driveway punching and shoving your best friends. Your mom won't care if you fall down and get your suit dirty before the service (actually, I have to correct myself on that one, but I'm not even going to think too hard about the fact that I had to tell you to stop and your mother was RIGHT. THERE. staring at me blankly while you were punching two other kids. OK so maybe YOUR mom doesn't care but their moms might.)

If you are sitting in the church waiting for the service to start, talk loudly. Read a newspaper. When the organist starts to play a nice piece of music, talk louder so that your friends can hear you over the noise. He'll notice.

In the middle of the service, sneak up into the choir loft and ask if you can take pictures from "up here". We're not doing anything. Don't mind us. They won't come out well anyway, you schmuck.


Grrrrrrr.

Hmmmm

Ever say "just let me check my mail?" or "I'll be done in one more minute?"

People who suspect they or a loved one might be an Internet addict, Wieland says, can find out by taking a screening test outlined in the book "Caught in the Net - How to Recognize the Signs of Internet Addiction and a Winning Strategy for Recovery," authored by Kimberly S. Young.

(on CNN)

Can I get that online?

Google scares me

Ok, I've been busy lately (playing a huge practical joke on a co-worker that I will detail for you sometime soon) and my creative energies have gone toward

• pretending to be busy at work (not for lack of work, but lack of any desire to DO my work)
• ducking raindrops unsuccessfully(walked two blocks in the rain the other night because I had NO coat or umbrella, d'oh) and
• the previously mentioned joke

So, taking an idea from Johhny V, I looked at what Google searches have brought people to my page.

Grey's shower spoof - (eight times) - well, it was good. Here is Jim kissing Pam on the Office. That should get me more hits. By the way, the DVD of the first season of the Office is hilarious. Deleted scenes, commentary from the cast, and so on. And my Dwight Schrute bobblehead doll has shipped! Yay.

dj Carly tell me where you are - (um, only one person "found me" this way but I'm moving. To Kansas. Yeah, Kansas.)

Fifel goes west (what the hell? that search took people to my page twice and yet when I do it I don't find my page. What is a Fifel? Why does it go west? Whaaaaaaaaaaat?)

A little something

for my Grey's friends: shower spoof - about the middle of the clip (fairly short) it starts a spoof on George's shower dream

Emily

.... or is it Rachel... my friend's new tiny baby, who is YET to be named, has the cutest little tiny feet. Almost makes me want another. Key word, class?

On my way out of her hospital room I whispered to her "make sure they give you a name today" and reminded her five year old sister to "be sure you ask the nurse for the forms for your Big Sister Pledge". Heh.

There is almost nothing better than sitting in a great big wooden rocking chair, holding a baby that's not even 24 hours old. Wrapped up in that ubiquitous white hospital blanket made of thin flannel, with an ugly striped hat on her head, her eyes closed the entire time, now and then a tiny flicker of "a smile" passing across her lips while the angels whisper a few last-minute instructions to her..

...and knowing that you'll get to see her grow up, but you'll probably never have to change, burp, bathe her, or do her laundry. All the fun, none of the work. Wheeee!

About Greys, but not really

Did you see what happened last night on ABC?

No, I'm not talking about Denny's heart. Not really. (Pfffft.)

I'm talking about the fact that Dubya spoke, pre-empting Oprah. When Dubya was done, did ABC start Oprah's much ballyhooed "Legends" show?

No.

They played a rerun of Grey's Anatomy, an episode that originally ran Sunday night. Why? So that they could start the final episode of the season at 9 PM sharp, and not risk the screaming and gnashing of 1,000,000 fan's teeth by messing with the evening's schedule, which would screw up TIVO's everywhere.

Think about that.

More Americans would rather see a bunch of slutty, unethical, selfish make believe medical interns, than Oprah and all of her "Aren't we special" friends.

Pretty sad, especially for Oprah. But it puts a little ray of sunshine in Carly's cereal.

Another

...necklace. Perfect for a beach in Tahiti and a pink bathing suit, don'tcha think?

Deliberately relaxed, vague and not counted. It was nice to spread out my beads and tools again and accomplish something.

Next up - a remake of the dragonfly necklace I sold just before Christmas.

Good Advice I Just Can't Take

I went to a wedding yesterday. The priest spoke of his parents, wed 50 years, and how on their 50th anniversary they each told him privately "I give up. I'll never change him/her."



I understand on a logical level that we shouldn't try to change the people in our lives. But on the emotional level I seem to be incapable of preventing myself from being agitated when people in my life do certain things. I am very weak in the "accepting someone for who they are" game. I can't roll with it; the wheels are square, and I lurch forward a bit, then sink down into the muck.

I find myself incapable of hugging my parents these days. I can't look them in the eye, and I feel like they really don't understand most of my life. They're not people I turn to for advice with any of my struggles. I can't take their manufactured drama, the obsession with the minute details of their utterly uncomplicated existence. I just want to scream, "live my life for a week, and then see how easy you have it, sitting in your house all day, not going anywhere or having anything people are demanding of you."

It's probably a bit pathetic that Post Secret makes me feel a little less freakishly weird. But I DO buy funny cards so I won't have to buy one that says "I love you."

Pits and Bieces

It's raining. Again. It's going to rain for the next four thousand days, apparently. I need to be at a nice Inn with a quilt and a book. Or a cute bookworm.

The Office last night? I love that Pam called her Mom and basically said "I think I DO love him". The kiss was excellent. But why didn't he say "I told you, you're lousy at bluffing" after he kissed her?? I know, I know. (I'm still waiting for my Dwight bobblehead. It was great when he kissed Angela and she smacked him, and walked away smiling.)

It's Mother's Day this weekend, so I am making brunch for my mother. Except, in my mother's world, it doesn't COUNT as brunch because I will not be having people over until 1:00. Yes, she really did say that. Issues, people. I have issues.

Anyway, I'll be busy with that, and I have a family thing to attend most of Saturday, so I won't be around much. But Mother's Day hugs go out to all my special people who work at the NICU, doing great things for teeeeeeny babies and their Mommies. Suzy, Amy, Amanda, (and someday Laurie, maybe!!) YOU GIRLS ROCK!!

Speaking of things doctor-ish, my friend is having hemorrhoid surgery. She went to the doctor, he covered her caboose with a paper "blanket", then tore a little hole in it to see, well, the moon but nothin' else. She had all she could do not to laugh hysterically. I need to collect jokes for her get well card. She'll be happy when this is all behind her. Hahahha.

Speaking of asses, this is funny because, well, I hated him. He thinks he's fabulous. I don't.

The tribe has spoken, and all that - don't forget to watch the wrap up of Survivor Sunday night!! (But tape the reunion, and watch Grey's Anatomy instead.)

Have a great weekend!!

In the words of Meredith

"...what did I do, what did I do, what did I do?"

no, I am not currently standing next to an operating table, with my hands inside a gaping wound, holding a round of live ammunition.

However, I am the co-president of the PTO for next year (PTA, PTO, same thing, ours is Parent Teacher Organization.)

Kinda scary. I have to actually be responsible, and do stuff.


PS: Actually I have to admit, I'll have fun, because the other officers are cool. But it's going to be quite the shock for people in my household who expect me to ALWAYS be around...

Springtime

I love lilacs. I love the smell, the way they say "Spring is finally here."

Holy bugs

Yesterday when I was walking into church I was about to dip my fingertips in the holy water* when I saw one of these doing the ol' backstroke.

I fished him out with the tip of my sunglasses, lest he crawl up Aunt Edna's arm and cause an infarction. I kind of flicked him off of the glasses, and I lost track of where he went, so I couldn't stomp on him and say "Ugh, Ugh, Ugh..."

I went up stairs to the loft and told Bette I deserve combat pay, and told her what I had done. NO fewer than 3 ladies exclaimed "Oh, you didn't kill it, did you?? That's a holy bug. It was in the holy water." I think that two of them were kidding with me. The other one...

It's times like this that I think to myself "what did I do? what did I do?" because no one, in the Lutheran church I attended when I was growing up, ever warned me not to kill a millipede.

I looked down at my feet and mumbled "No, I didn't kill it" contritely (thinking "....because I couldn't find his creepy little body to crush it with the pointy toe of my Sunday shoes...")


*that particular marble "font" is cracked and leaks so there is a VERY elegant tiny little 1-cup tupperware oval in there, to hold the water. It's fabulous.


P.S.:
Today my son dragged me into his room and showed me his calendar. On every Monday of this month he wrote "Walk" because we agreed last Monday that it would be our day to walk together. Who needs a $5 Mother's Day card?

Yes Sir

...that's my baby

My son's opening game was yesterday. Allow me to brag (if your eyes glaze over just be polite about it....)

• He struck out in his first at bat.
• Then he played second base for a while, and managed to catch a ball at the right time to tag a runner out.
• Then he got a single in the next inning
• Subsequent hitters ran him all the way home - yeah!!!
• Then he was catcher for a while and AGAIN managed to catch the ball and tag a runner out (would have been a home run for the other team..... yeahhhhh!)

It was pretty rainy and annoying so it was nice that he did well.

It was a crazy weekend with the game, the school play, and whatnot. I need to go back to work so that I can get some rest. My back is better. Thermacare wraps are awesome.

The Crystals are all Virgins

So, I listen to the Tiffany Granath show on the way home from work every day. She's on the Playboy radio channel, on Sirius, at 2pm eastern time. It's never boring, because you never know what kind of advice / topics she'll be discussing. Education is a good thing. (snicker)

Today was not my favorite show, because she had this totally unique woman who was telling callers about their angels. Making up names for them, and shit. OK, she was plumb crazy. She also sells crystals, after she sleeps with them, to give them energy. And just in case you had any doubts, the title of my blog entry today is a direct quote from this fine Ferncliffe outcast.* Oh-kayyyyyy.

Moving on.

Happy Cinco de Mayo!

I'd planned on making some margaritas today, before I twisted a certain way and heard a peculiar POP emanate from my hip. Kind of like cracking a knuckle, but not. Owwww. Naproxyn and margaritas are not a loving combination. There's always next year.

Many years ago I was in Oregon for May 5th (on a business trip, sometime I will have to blog about the sweeeet car I rented) and they laughed at me there, about the crappy mexican food we have in upstate NY. They cooked for me, and I have to say it was FAR better than any of the crap you get in a chain restaurant.

Here are some wines you can pick up on your way to a party. I haven't tried any of them, but they're all recommended by the Wine Lover's Calendar by Karen MacNeil. I'm learning all sorts of trivia from this calendar. If you try one of these wines, please write to me and let me know how it is.

• "If wine could be a margarita" writes the author: Highfield Sauvignon blanc (New Zealand, about $16) - limey, with notes of tropical fruit. Try it with salsa and chips, she says.
• Another crisp medium bodied dry white is Veramonte Sauvignon blanc (Chile, $8), again she states that this wine has citrus and a hint of tropical fruit, bright and tangy.
• If you prefer red, try Osborne Solaz, a cabernet sauvignon from Spain for about $7. Have it with a grilled burger, sez Karen- ole!

Have a good weekend! Cross your fingers for me that this back thing gets better SOOOON.

*(Ferncliffe is the name of the insane assylum on General Hospital)

Quote of the day

This quote was on Post Secret from Sheldon VanAuken's book A Severe Mercy:

It is, I think, that we are all so alone in what lies deepest in our souls, so unable to find the words, and perhaps the courage to speak with unlocked hearts, that we don't know at all that it is the same with others.

Not Too Lost

This is a nice set of photographs.

I found it when I was trying to fix my tub. Note the use of the word trying, and the futile sound it carries. (Edit: she had the same problem with her tub, and I followed a link from her question on a plumbing forum or something, back to her home page... yes, a plumbing forum... I have such a dazzling life... but the pictures are beautiful)

I can't get the trip lever assembly and the plunger out, but the plunger is old and apparently corroded and is stuck, but it is stuck in such a way that the tub DOES drain. Amen.

I sprayed a bunch of wd-40 on it (yeah I know that won't work but I had to do SOMETHING) and wired it so that if it DOES loosen, it won't fall down all the way. (Next step is to call a real plumber.)

On the plus side, I did get a clog out (while my big tough 8 year old was gagging and running away at the sight of the nasty blobs of his sister's hair). SO maybe I won't be up to my cankles in water tomorrow for my shower!! Wheeeeeeeeeee!

The curve of her glass

So as I posted the other night, we went to Red Robin and Suzy had a very unique glass for her cocktail. She took an orange/vanilla nonalcoholic frozen drink and added Malibu Rum. Here she is hiding behind some trees with the glass,



and here is Suzy imitating that fine piece of glassware with her own stem:



See the resemblance? It's a lot funnier if you're having alcohol at the time. We tried to buy a glass but they have a waiting list. Sad, huh? I don't get out much anymore.

Last year for Easter our mother looked at Sue who was in this GORGEOUS strapless dress (kind of the same color as the shirt she's wearing here, and she had a sweater to go over it when she was in church) and my mother said "your butt looks like J-Lo's in that dress". She did this when I was nowhere in earshot to say "MOM!!!"

She looked awesome. She can laugh about it now but geeeez. I had to explain to my mother that it's NOT a compliment to tell someone their butt looks like J-Lo's especially if you do happen to ever actually speak to J-Lo. She makes a nice perfume by the way. I get compliments whenever I wear it but then inevitably I get asked what it is and I get so embarrased when I actually have to admit what it is. But I like it, so there.

Where was I ? Oh, last Easter... our father was trying to get her to keep her sweater on, at all times. (this would be related somehow to the fact that when we were in high school we had to do our suntanning in a tiny area between the pool, the red stockade fence, and the house -- so we absolutely could not be seen by anyone passing by our house which was NOT on the main drag in town, so... there you go)

These are the Kodak moments of our lives.

Palm trees

Everywhere I go now, all I sees is the palm trees. Really. I'm getting sick of them.

It's kind of like when my college boyfriend got a new red firebird with a t-top and then everywhere I went, all I noticed was red firebirds. When I broke up with him, then all I saw was even MORE red firebirds and you start to loathe red firebirds, and then you pass up a perfectly nice guy because he drives a red firebird. Know what I mean?

But this current news story is really too funny for me to not share with you.

Walka Walka

Well, I went to the March of Dimes Walk America event today. I handed in money, got a t-shirt, and walked. Not exactly in the order the event organizers had in mind, however.

My life is overscheduled (whose isn't?) so I basically took a walk around the park (it's called the Crossings, it's really very nice) by myself and then handed in my money as soon as the registration tables opened, and then got outta dodge just as the double parking was starting. I got there early enough to get a primo parking space near the entrance to the park so I could just zip on out and head home... to go to church.

I really wanted to stay - the weather is gorgeous today - and sit under a big tree with one of my favorite people and just listen to some tunes. Maybe next year.

Stuff, part 492

On butts:

last night we went to Red Robin with Suzy. She got a drink that tasted like one of those orange sherbet/ vanilla ice cream treats. She added a shot of malibu rum and then she thought it was pretty much perfect as far as I could tell. The glass was funky, a swirly lopsided affair. We laughed because it resembled J-Lo's butt (according to my mother, so does Suzy's butt, but that's another story for another time. ) Pictures on this may, or may not, follow.

But...
My kid is almost failing science. Her average is 76, and passing is 75. One quarter to go. WHY?? Why? I do not neeeeed to have her in summer school. This of course means I get to drill her daily on science vocab now until the end of the school year. Oh, funsie fun fun FUNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN.


And since we're talking about fun...

Father daughter dance time. ( OK, Poly, stop reading. Haven't you been aggravated enough this week?)
Father daughter dance time is also known as "How to annoy Carly as many ways as possible because she is the captain of this sinking ship":

• if you are the person I work with to reserve the public school cafeteria, call me on FRIDAY to tell me you don't have a kitchen worker for me, so I can't use the big walk in cooler. Hmm, oh sorry. thankqueue.
• if you are the custodial employees I am paying to be there, show up late and then ask "oh, did you need me to do something?" when I have a list of at least 6 things I need (like, take half the tables and chairs out of this cafeteria) and then argue with me later about what I have to pay you. Be sure to keep the girl's bathroom locked (the one with 4 stalls) because surely the ONE faculty bathroom is enough for 100 little girls. Eff you. And yes I will make you open it again next year too.
• if you are (at least 15) parents in the school call me well after the deadline to ask if your kid can still come, because you know I'll say yes. Damn you. It's not like I need to have enough party favors, or food, or anything. (someone called me t-o-d-a-y.)
• bring your three year old, because we specifically (on the flyer going home) say that the dance is for kids in kindergarten and up (our school has a pre-k program for 3 & 4 year olds.... they are not invited, thankyou. When you walk in with her I will look you in the eye and say "she's not supposed to be here. but you haven't left me any choice now, have you? whatever" - - - yes, I did. )
• if you are stupid dad, put your daughter's dress on backwards because she is in kindergarten and doesn't know the button doesn't go in the front. You moron. But you made me laugh so I like you.
• the guy who danced to Footloose also made me laugh, so he gets honorable mention. Not annoying.
• if you are in first grade be sure to run in the hall as much as possible so I have to yell at you five times. Back to annoying-ville!!!
• if you are the DJ I hired, be sure to send someone who works for you, who will bring CD's ( noooooo one has cd's anymore, they have a computer with stuff loaded) and just bring 80's oldies, really, not current Top 40 stuff. The 6th graders won't mind. I'm sure.
• Hey Mr. DJ, also be sure to ask if we can move your table to a completely different place right after we duct tape down a couple of extension cords.
• Dads, be sure to have a few drinks at home and then drive to the event. (There were at least 3 who did this, and if anyone would know, it's the photographer who is up close to you while she poses your daughter next to you) The photographer, who has been my friend since 7th grade, will point you out to me so that I know forever you are a schmuck. I hate you.

You never really know what you'll get when you come by my blog, huh?

Gossip is bad, unless you tell me

I have issues with a conversation that took place at my daughter's school the other day. The teachers rounded up the 5th graders to talk about having boyfriends and girlfriends.

No, not THAT kind of talk. As far as I know. It wasn't an "ed" session. From my interrogation, um, conversation with my daughter, the teachers had a platform that went something like this:

• some of you are starting to "go out" with each other and you are too young to be dating
• if you start to have boyfriends/girlfriends your friends will get mad at you for ignoring them at lunchtime
• the gossip about who is "going out" with whom is getting out of hand
• we do not want you walking behind the blackboard and kissing because we will see your feet (this apparently was a problem last year with the 8th graders, who are now gone)
• we do not want you working with your boyfriend/girlfriend during class when we break up into groups. If you do that you will both get extra homework.
• We expect all of you to tell us if you see someone in a group with the person they're "going out with"

That last one really fries me. Don't gossip, unless you have a chance to screw over one of your classmates (friends, enemies??) by going to the teacher and ratting them out so that you can make them get extra homework.

I would have preferred that they remind the children that when we are in (this catholic, elementary) school we expect you to behave a certain way, and that includes no holding hands or kissing, etc.

Leave it at that.

More than half of the class is not "going out" at all, they were bored to tears during the conversation, and insulted when the teacher tried to end on an "upbeat note" by singing "if you're happy and you know it, clap your hands" - I kid you not. Hello? They're not 4 years old.

Telling a child who is somewhere in the beginning of puberty that they "shouldn't" be interested in dating because they're too young is like, well (I can't think of a good analogy here)... you can't tell someone how to feel. You can tell them what behavior you expect, and what consequences they may face if they don't behave, and that's all.

I also think that they are not the ones who should be telling the children they're too young to date. I have questions as to why a 5th grader's mother is letting her go to the movies with a 6th grader who's known to be a troublemaker, but whatever, it's not MY KID. The parents should decide as they see fit what they allow their children to do outside of school.

I'm mulling this over but for now I have pointed out to my daughter that gossip is gossip even if you are gossiping to the teacher, and the other kids WON'T like a tattletale.

Seriously

What I wouldn't give

to be sitting in a beach chair drinking a strawberry daquiri with ridiculous amounts of alcohol in it, right now, looking out at the waves while the sun sets.

Alone.


(OK Suzy, you can come too. As long as you don't bug me.)

It's easy, unless it's not

So, here is a brief apology to anyone who doesn't know how to encrypt their modem. I forget, being that I'm touching computers practially 24x7, that it's not always that easy. (I lucked out, and got a modem with good clear documentation written by someone with a good grasp of the English language) A friend of mine sent me a note saying "so how do I do mine?" and I have NO IDEA!!! I'm sorry, C !! (She was really nice about it).

Isn't it funny that in many marriages there is one person who is the total techie gadget geek and there is one who could care less about how many megapixels the camera is?? The thing about my parents is, Sue and I think that our father would love tooling around on the internet, but my mother refuses to pay for any sort of 'net connection and she thinks the internet is riddled with porn and has nothing good to offer. I guess today didn't help?? Ooopsie.

(So no, she doesn't read my blog.)

Priceless

New laptop for Suzy: about $700
Internet connection: about $45 per month, unless your neighbors are stupid*

Going to our parent's home (which has a TV from 1984, NO cable, NO DVD player, NO iPod, no cell phones, no digital cameras, and definitely no fancy new laptops or wireless internet connections) , finding that their neighbors don't secure their wireless routers, having our mother gasp "You can't get any PORN on there, can you?" and showing her that Yes, in fact, you CAN, while our father laughs and laughs and our mother turns MORE pale by the moment and bites off all her fingernails because surely the federal government is going to burst through the door and arrest her at any moment.... priceless.

This is why I love my sister. We may burn in h-e-double toothpicks together but we'll be laughing at inapropriate things the entire time.


* really. Just even set up ONE LITTLE BIT of security if you buy a wireless router. Sheesh. Set up encryption and use a key... it's RIGHT THERE in the documentation that comes with the modem.

For the right price

Suzy and I will come to your house and paint a mural, but it will have a lot of zeros. (The price, not the mural.) But Sorry John, we don't paint in the nude.

Thank you all for the kind words! We are thrilled with how it came out and B understands that she absolutely Must. Not. Ever. Puke. On The Wall. We are starting to put her room all back together. I'm TIRED of this project!


PS: Note to the Angus beef ad execs:
What idiot decided that women in the northeast would love an ad where a woman swoons over a dude in a cowboy hat and orders angus beef from the butcher because he did? Oh please. Just, oh please. ::::eyeroll:::

PSS: Note to LOST people
Another clip show this week? I hate you. I'm done now. The Office is NEW for the rest of the season.

And

..one last picture... a better picture of the tree in the corner

I'll stop now (smile).

Until all of the furniture is back in the room, that is. (We have a bedspread and new rug that will go REALLY well with this mural.)

Done

As done as it's going to be... I was trying to make the palms on the right smaller and darker, as though they are farther back in the distance, and I'm not entirely happy with it, but that's just me...

I was hoping to get the room back together today, but oh well. That's my life, always takes 50% longer to do something than I think it will.

Getting there

(Edited... took the picture out because I have a newer one posted now of the finished mural).

After about 9 hours of painting today with my sister this is where we stand. The cabinet will be moved when all is said and done. The tree, which is in the corner, is not finished... it will have two branches on the right side too. I also need to finish the shoreline near the tree (more rocks). Sue did the ocean/sand/sky, I worked on the Big Tree.

My daughter loves it so far. I never thought to NOT let her see it at all until it was done. D'oh.

We used sandstone spray paint for the beach sand. Hee hee. It's textured sand.

For fun she did this gecko over the doorway so you might notice it as you're walking out of the room. It took her maybe 20 minutes? She is an awesome artist. Me, I'm good at trees. (Silly face goes here.)

I'm so tired. My legs are killing me. Tree = (up the ladder + down the ladder ) x1000

Yay

This is John, Johnny & Shamus at Lotusphere last January. Well, not really.

Suzy got her new PC yesterday. Who's the best sister? No, not me, she is because now she sends me stuff like this...





Painting is going well again. Mr. Paint Mixer Guy only laughed a little when I went back for another quart. I got the rest of the main wall color on all of the walls last night. Today we start the mural. Mr. C has volunteered to re-do all of the white trim(where I've blotched green and blue many times....)

Well not exactly

I had intended to point out in my previous post that it wasn't ACTUALLY 85, it was a high of about 76, which was excellent. The bank right down the road from me has a sign which shows the temperature, and it's always off by about 10 degrees. It's rather hilarious. The bank's been open a couple of years and that thing's never right.

Wish me luck. I'm going back into the painting project. Hopefully I will have photos to show my progress by the end of the weekend.

Or I'll be on my way to Tahiti.

How not to paint right

It's too dry and hot today (85*) to paint. Me, knowing nothing about painting, I began to paint anyway. I would touch the roller to the wall, and the paint would evaporate before my eyes.

One quart.

One wall.

Back to Lowe's. That cute paint guy (half my age) is reeeeeally going to like me now.

But damn, that one wall does look pretty good. So, there's that.

I ordered mine

“It's me! I'm the bobblehead! Yes!” - Dwight

Get yours today!

(here)

Fly indeed

I was sitting waiting for son at the dentist and playing sudoku on my palm pilot. Exciting stuff.

I glanced over at my daughter, who was reading Field & stream. (Huh? Yeah, I know.)

I realized she was reading an ad entitled 'my husband's secret to amazing intimacy'.

Oh, carp, as the fisherman say.

Breathe. Breathe.

I casually said "whatcha reading, honey?" She gave a little sigh and said 'I have no idea.' It was difficult but I managed not to laugh.

I waited a while and had a chance to flip through the magazine. Ads for Viagra, Cialis, and Maxoderm Connection.

It was kinda funny to me that one of the stories on the cover was '50 best lures of all time'. (The fishing lure they photographed had a little devil's face on it. Weird.)

I guess it's all that time out on the boat with not much to do. Plenty of time to mull certain topics over.

Now, see

I am someone who finds unending humor in the fact that Brooke Shields also* welcomed a baby into the world on Tuesday.

*Did you notice that ( Cruise ) - C - E = can be rearranged to the baby's name, Suri ? Will the weirdness end now?? Please?

Oh, no

Be afraid. Be very afraid.

My daughter is bouncing off the walls over this news.

Sigh...

(painting her room is going well. If you don't count going back to the store because buying a quart of each color was only half what I needed, that is... I got the primer coat done, plus one coat of color on each wall. Someone, please come help me??? Please? At least my Sirius is keeping me company.)

Thoughts

Painting white primer is easy in a room with white trim. Tomorrow I'm doomed. I'll have blue and green all over my trim... I'm sure.. (which reminds me of my favorite quote from Robots:

Even though you had a discouraging day, remember...there's another one coming tomorrow! )

Babysitting a child who is clearly held ALL OF THE TIME is a challenge - gotta go!

WHAT have I started?

I've done a crazy thing...we're emptying out my daughter's room and painting it. Nothing like a relaxing couple of days off. (That kid has SO much clutter. We're only putting 1/2 or 2/3 of her stuff back in...)

I'm going with a "beach" sort of look. Two walls will be very soft blue, two will be green. I'm hoping the paint doesn't look as dark as it does in this picture... it doesn't in person. The trim will stay white and the walls are broken up quite a bit by windows/doors, etc... it's a pretty small room. The furniture's white.

We're going to get this part done, then do a wall mural over her bed. (that's what the other colors are for... ideas for beach and palm tree- mural will be loosely based on this (with a palm tree in the one corner of the room...):

Yeah... I'm crazy. I'm thinking acrylic paint for the mural (and I'll stock up on bin paint if I ever sell the house.... whatever...that's not happening any time soon). I really want to use grit paint for the sand but Mr. C is going "well....."

This project, of course, will snowball out of control in no time. I now need new switchplates, a new mirror & clock for her, seashell knobs, a new lamp... I need to take the (cream) rug out of my son's room because her rug is pink right now.

SO then HE gets a new rug and we do his room (baseball stadium mural). Dare me to buy astroturf?

Crazy.

Happy Easter

This is what I see, on Easter morning, looking down from the choir loft.

I like to be up there. Not only because of the singing. I just feel like I'm hidden away from the laws and the controversies, and the way mankind has thouroughly fucked up what is supposed to be a pure and good thing - feeling close to God.

The hypocrites and the gossips and judges can't find me there. The ones who say "my religion is better than your religion. " ( I personally think you should find the religion right for YOU, and not listen to anyone else....) Then there are the ones who want "proof" ... you can never quite give enough proof to someone who doubts. I hide away from them all, in my loft that you can only reach by climbing a steep spiral staircase.

I attend the church that I do, in part because when I married, he went to church regularly and I didn't. I was seeking more stability and happiness. Going to church became something of an anchor for me. From one week to the next I could go, and the mass would still be the same, no matter what was going on in the world around me, or my personal life. I find the thought of priests ordained by priest ordained by priests (...repeat for centuries....) ordained by the apostles to be somehow comforting. An ever-so- slightly tangible link to Christ.

Before I joined the choir, I would sit during mass, usually holding a child, and just aim to have one moment of stillness during the mass where I could look at the statues and windows and other works of art and muse about the devotion to God that these artists felt. I guess I needed those visual aids to get me through certain periods in my life. I still do. When I am most sad and confused about what the future holds for me and those people I call "mine", I take great comfort in the beauty I find in this church.

Another thing that I have always loved is the music. Before I joined the choir, I would close my eyes and rock a child and just hear the beautiful sounds drifting down, and it meant more to me than the sermons, usually. Now, I am up there. The actual, physical music that I hold, in many cases, is very worn. The edges are roughened from years of being held - certain pieces are literally missing the section that corresponds to the part where you would pinch it between your thumb and first finger. Those are my favorite pieces to sing. I hold them, and I think about the men and women who have sung them before me. I wonder what burdens they carried into this choir loft, and what joys and sadness went through their minds each week as they sang.

I still look around at my choirmates and feel slightly out of place. The Uncertain Convert, sitting amid the people who really "are" religious. I don't go to confession because I can't see past the person of the priest, to the sacrament. I feel that God certainly sees the things I do, and he knows what's in my heart, and how I am struggling with certain events and thoughts and feelings in my life. I am not able or willing to lay all of that out in front of another human being.

So if I sound a little bit sad around the edges, well, I guess I am. There are things I'm really worried about nowadays, and I don't write about most of them here. This is my "fun/silly/whatever" blog. But I still have hope that certain things in my life will turn around or change in some way for the better, and I still find comfort and hope, when I go to my church.

Who sez

...money can't buy happiness? Guess again.

Isn't it pretty? (Mine actually looks darker than this.)

I just made two loaves of banana bread in about ten minutes. I can't believe how much longer it takes if I have to do all of the mashing and mixing by hand. Never again!

Now I have time to, oh, I don't know, JOG or something. I have a feeling I'd better start. There seems to be quite a lot of baking in my future.

Mini wine review

Last night I opened up a bottle of Ramon Cardova "Rioja" (2003) while I was slamming pots and p.... I mean, making dinner.

It's a spanish red wine, , made from Tempranillo grapes ( ...from "the old vines surrounding the town of Haro, La Rioja" - dig that) and I really liked it. This text is also lifted right from the bottle:

With its bright ruby red color, a nose of ripe wild berries and balsamic aromas, Ramon Cardova is ideal with red meat, fish, and soft, light cheeses.

I'm not one for a real strong finish, and that's one reason I liked this wine. It was nice with the meal (steak and salad, not that any of those buggers deserved it, it's what I wanted....) and it was good to sip afterwards while I watched American Idol contestants mangle Queen songs.

Not bad, not bad at all. Incidentally, it's also kosher.

Membership is free - but it will cost you

I have just nominated a friend of mine as the first official member of Carly's "Motherhood Is a Life Sentence" club. (No F in there... we're too tired for that shit.) It's all based on her reply to my "vent" email about how my evening went. (Here's a hint, class. It didn't go well. Yelling and punishments and crying and guilt. Just another day in parental paradise.) She sealed her membership with "....the chore sheet I have posted on the bulletin board in the kitchen, that NO ONE FOLLOWS, ..."

The worst feeling in the world is when you think you're the only one who sucks at this gig they call "parenting." It's nice to know that other people are frantically bailing out THEIR rowboat too.

Those cute little babies, they smell nice and their little toes are so damn cute, and you can't sleep through the crying. You get sucked into their games and start to think of Elmo as a friend, and then ---whammo....

You turn away for a minute, and they tell a teacher that a burglar shot a dog that you don't even have, or they sneak in their room to put on eyeshadow just before they get in a car for a family party. (If you're lucky, it's the boy, and the girl, and not vice versa. Luck is all relative here.)

I'd write more but I'm out of steam. Maybe it's the glass of wine I'm sharing with a friend even though B is an hour away.

Thanks for the support

Where I'm going

So much pain and so much darkness
In this world we stumble through
All these questions
I can't answer
So much work to do

But when I get where I'm going
And I see my maker's face
I'll stand forever in the light
Of his amazing grace
Yeah when I get where I'm going
There'll be only happy tears
Hallelujah

I will love and have no fear
When I get where I'm going

-sung by Brad Paisley


This is the most hectic week of the year, with extra choir rehearsals and extra church services, as I've mentioned.

Today was just a Bad Day. Late already, had't left the house yet, and one mini crisis after another keeping me from getting out. It seems that everywhere I look there are things I haven't done.

By the time I got to work I was still pretty frayed. Someone (and I know he meant well) said "are you OK?" and then the tears started.

(I think that's covered in Chicks 101. Do not ASK a girl who is obviously not OK, if she is OK, because her face will spring a leak and you'll be thinking "oh, crap, now what have I done?" But also do not walk away without speaking and pretend you didn't notice, because that will be the wrong course of action too. Get it? There is NO foolproof course of action if a woman is crying, unless you are dating her and you didn't cause the tears in the first place, and you offer TLC. However, IM'ing and offering to do anything you can is much appreciated- even if you DO say that you won't kill anybody for me.)

So, yes, I'm blogging. (no snotty remarks, because I do have another friend who WILL kill someone for me if I really ask nicely...) Ten minutes can't cure the tornado that is my house. I am tired of trying to inspire the other people in it to help me keep it clean.

I am now accepting applications for a cook, a maid, a laundry wench, a homework tutor, and a bookkeeper/ receptionist. Right now, those jobs are all held by yours truly and I'm seriously considering going on strike.

Days like this I feel like I'm in mile 12 of a marathon and it's alllll uphill from now until the end. Does this ever get easier? How do people work full time and get stuff done and raise kids? I can't even manage it while working part time.

What bothers me the most is that I can get sucked so far down by the little stuff. I'm afraid that someday when I have Big Stuff to deal with that I'll just sink under the wave.

Games

There's this guy in my choir who is late e-v-e-r-y rehearsal... he strolls in at 7:20. We'll be in in the middle of something, and he breaks the flow. Notice me, notice me. Every Sunday morning, he's late again. We sing a song before mass, which he always misses. It's like some sort of game that he plays. It can't be accidental.

Today he was early for mass. We messed up our first song. His presence threw off the cosmic balance.

Tonight, he skidded in at the last possible minute, and our performance was much better. Order has been restored.

* * *

If my mother says "we're not doing anything for Easter, but we're having your brother over for dinner" (in other words, Carly, Mr. and the kids are not invited) do I need one therapist, or two?

I mean, frankly, after singing tonight, then I'll be singing Thursday night, Friday night, Saturday night, and Sunday morning.... I'll have to be careful not to wish anyone "happy freaking easter". I'm over it by the actual day. I've been singing these songs since January 2. I love to sing them, but by next Sunday, I'll be tired and hoarse. I'll just go home, put my sweats on, and make brunch. Pass the mimosas.

But... still.

* * *

If someone else in my family asked me on Superbowl Sunday what I am doing April 29, and I told them I have plans, and today they mentioned that they're having a party on April 29, and then got annoyed because I STILL HAVE THE SAME OTHER PLANS, an event I'm responsible for.... is that me being crazy again?

Boobs

Prince Harry likes a lap dance - so what? Go to it, H.... just be sure to tip well. This is really international news? Sucks to be you.

I was looking through this catalog because they have so many cool necklaces in the photos. Like this. I'm so going to copy that. But every shirt is mega-cleavage, which annoys me. Grrr. I can't wear this stuff to work...if it were cut a little differently, I could. Can't frighten my lunch companions.

I'm all about contradictions. Just the mood today!

Funny

I almost had chinese for dinner...

You Are Chinese Food

Exotic yet ordinary. People think they've had enough of you, but they're back for more in an hour.

What Kind of Food Are You?

aggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhh

I had somewhat of an annoying day, because a couple of people got on my nerves. Not a surprise, given the people in question.

Since I have choir rehearsal tonight at 7, Mr. C took both kids to my son's baseball practice at 6.

At 6:02 my train of thought went something like this:
(Alone in house) x (45 minutes of free time) = (light candle) + (relax in warm bubble bath and picture drowning my foes) - (keep one eye on the clock)

It seemed like a good plan... because (you can't really appreciate this if you are not co-existing with small, noisy, demanding creatures who want inconvenient things like FOOD and ATTENTION all the time....) the house was so quiet. If I'm here, they usually are too. I NEVER get the house to myself.

It seemed like a great plan.

Until....

(sigh...)

until the stick/ lever ( that I need to flip up, to plug up the tub ) broke off in my hand.

Broke off in my hand.

Not conducive to soothing, calming, and other adjectives I had in mind.

Not at all. The quiet of the house was definitely shattered. (Some paint on the bathroom ceiling blistered during my response to the incident.)

Something tells me this won't be cheap, either.

In ten states

All of the blogs I visit seem to be slow lately. Must be spring fever. Or the fact that Blogger seems cranky today.

I'm short on time and topics, but I do have this for you:

Suzy (my sister, for any of you who don't know) got a webcam for her existing laptop PC. That particular PC is a beast, running windows 98, and it is painfully slow. It is frustrating to do ANYTHING on that PC.... takes quite a while to even start it up. I was trying to help her get it (the webcam) working the morning of the raffle, with no luck. (This would be one reason why I am
kicking some money her way from my recent windfall. Another reason is that she is just freaking cool and I know she would come up with an excuse to give ME money too for something fun if the tables were turned)

She turned to a friend of hers who can provide better tech support and he eventually got the right windows drivers loaded so that the thing worked. As a joke Suzy said "Let's test it out", lifted her shirt and flashed the camera (the girl's got probably 50 Victoria's secret bras, I'm sure it was a nice one that day) and the computer immediately popped up a message:

"An illegal activity has occured. The system service will be shut down."

Crash! It was one of those moments.

At least she didn't use the badonkadonk.


Be good... and if you can't be good... be careful.

It's gone already

Busy weekend. That clock change didn't help me.

What with enjoying the amazingly warm weather, celebrating a couple of family birthdays, winning ten thousand dollars, and singing in a choral performance with another church's choir, and then trying to pack away some winter clothing, the weekend pretty much shot by.

Hmmm?

Oh, that.

My children's school runs an annual raffle - tickets cost $100, and only 250 are sold. If you do this right (sell all the tix) the organization keeps $10K and gives away the rest of the cash in various denominations -- the top one being the ten thousand dollar prize.

I bought a ticket for myself and the Mr last fall, and convinced my coworkers to buy pieces of a second. (Note to all.... if you do this, always be V E R Y clear about which is which. The best thing I did was hand that 2nd ticket to someone a couple of weeks ago and say "THIS is the shared ticket." Since they're numbered tickets, no questions later. Well, not many anyway.)

When the announcer called out MY number (178) I was shocked, and pretty much just slapped my hand down on the ticket, thinking "Woah. Mine. Right here. Holy shit." The woman sitting next to me laughed and asked if I thought she was going to try to steal it. I'm not a screamer, it was a stunned silence that lasted a few moments. I was shaking so hard, I could barely walk up to the front of the room.

It was surreal. I just sat there staring at the check, with my name on it, and all of those zeros. (The treasurer is a friend of mine and laughed and did NOT make it out to me and Mr. C -- only me) Then, of course, I bought the next round of drinks.

This is going to pay the tuition for my kids for next year. I've been trying to figure out how to afford a figure that's basically an additional car payment each month (if not two, depending on what kind of car you drive). Because I just don't have that money these days.

It's also going to pay off some credit cards. Oh, I know the evils of credit cards. But when you have kids with no jeans to wear because they just keep growing and growing, you can't always say "well, we'll get that next month when I have the cash to pay for it." (I am the first to admit I don't budget well, and live a bit just beyond my means. Help!!! )

One woman at the table started trying to convince me that my family of four has to take a Disney cruise. "It's about two thousand dollars a person." I smiled and nodded, thinking "you just don't get the fact that we have about as much of a chance of going to Disney with this money as I do of going to the moon on the next shuttle flight." Hey, it's not her fault I can't / don't budget well. Not her fault she's a stay at home mom with more money than me. (Hey, it's my blog and I'll pout if I want to. )

So as I looked at that check, I felt a little sad, thinking "Oh, Mickey, you're so close... and yet so far...."

And then I looked at the check again and laughed the laugh of a person who thinks they've finally gone mad, and sat there waiting for someone to pinch me and wake me from this crazy dream.

Hasn't happened yet.