Good thing I start training with Mike tomorrow!
We were on our way to Cheeburger, Cheeburger (review to follow) in Plainview tonight in Dad's truck. MR was in the front and Beena, Z-girl and I were in the back. The AC was blasting and Z-girl was getting goosebumps. Which caused the hair on her legs to stand straight up! Beena and I were amazed at how much hair she had- she was furry! Okay, she's got a great tan and blondish hair but alot of it. When she put her legs into the front seat to show MR, he called her a Wookie. I've had this discussion with some of the other moms (seems this generation is unnaturally hairy) and we've all agreed that it's to early for them to shave. But Beena suggested using Nair on the little Yeti.
I am thankful that Zombiegirl is growing up with an older sister. When I piss her off, and I know I will, it's good to know she can go to her sister, who has a good head on her shoulders. She'll confide more in Beena than with me, and I'm surprisingly okay with that. I don't have a sibling anymore to share my pains and joys so I'm glad the girls have each other. And getting rid of unwanted hair might be a little cooler if she takes it off with her sister instead of her mom. As long as she runs downstairs with a big grin on her face and rubs her legs against mine to show how smooth they are. As long as she still wants to snuggle on the couch- just a little while longer.
I was blogging last night, really.
Just not here.
My hubby- he who still does not have an ATM card, fought to NOT get EZ Pass and won't join Facebook- has a blog.
Yes. You read correctly.
You see, he has a love of watches- much like Rachel Zoe loves shoes, or a drug addict loves a speedball- he loves watches. He tries to talk to me about the 75mm o-ring or the 32 jewels in the automatic setting but I just kinda...
Oops. Sorry. Spaced out a little there. See? That's what happens when he starts watch talking to me. So I suggested awhile back that he start a blog so that he can spout all his expertise to other watch collectors.
So having some blog experience I helped him set up his account and template. He figured out how to upload the pictures himself, bless his heart! His very clever, so if you can get through the watch mumbo-jumbo, he writes a good blog.
From Time to Time. Read it and comment- make him feel good!
This will be their fourth child. All the rest are four and under.
They're crazy. But they make beautiful babies.
When Raymond, formerly known as Ray-Ray, was little and Paula was expecting Sammy, Beena went upstate to live with them for the summer as an au pair. She got really close to the kids- so close that the family took her to the Bahamas with them so Paula and Ray could go out at night. Unfortunately, we live about an hour and a half away, so I don't get to see them as much as I want to.
But when we do, we can't help talking about them all the way home. They are riots. Sammy (aka Samantha) with her crazy beautiful hair, Raymond with his fasination with trucks and guns and Lily asking "why?" all the time. They are precocious, smart and wild. They're loving and funny and satisfy my need to read to small children. And tickle. I have to tickle these kids because their laughs are cotton candy and gumdrops. I've done "baby hat" *to each and every one of those kids- some of them while in the hospital waiting for their baby brother or sister to be born. I wish I lived around the corner so Aunt Soo can spoil them rotten. I'm jealous of Titi who only lives five minutes away. But I love Titi, too. She's a wonderful aunt,
Paula doesn't want to know what the next baby is going to be, but I think we're all wishing for a boy. I know whatever it is, it'll be as beautiful and loved as the others.
We took this picture to give to Grandma and Grandpa for Christmas last year...
What a family!
So we're winding down August. Holy crap, where did the month go? Pre-camping was spent planning for camping, then post-camping was spent being sick. Throw the craft sale in there (which I WILL blog about) and August has just been used up.
I was thinking about September and how this month always felt like the beginning of a new year. As a kid, I always looked forward to September- a new grade in school, new cartoon lineup, new clothes, new supplies. January never felt like a new year- it was always September.
This September I have a lot to look forward to as well as a lot to be thankful for. Zombiegirl is going into the 5th grade. She's also starting on her Travel Soccer team. We're celebrating our 12th Wedding Anniversary. My favorite season starts. 9/9/09 occurs (I always love those dates...) In honor of this September, I wanted to start anew, too, and finish specific things I've started. So I label September Anti-Procrastination Month. At least in my little world.
The things I want to get done in September are:
- Finish St. Andrew's renovation. This takes all of two pieces of wood, but I've been putting it off then forgetting about it. 'K, this is also a good idea for a blog post- my renovation efforts of the church.
- Update St. Andrew's website. Will try to be a weekly thing, but I have to start it.
- Finish the upstairs hallway painting. I have a small piece left on the ceiling- what is my problem? Why can't I finish this??? Once I finish, I can start blaming MR for not finishing the balustrades, bathroom, etc! Throw the ball back into his court.
- Do three things on my 101 in 1001 days list, specifically #15, #40, and #46.
Seven things. That's not a big deal, right? Completing these seven things will clear the way for the rest of the things I have to do without feeling guilty. Such small things, but they weigh heavy on my soul.
If I can complete these the first week of September, I'll add more. Not making any promises to myself, though. We'll see. Procrastination IS my middle name.
Like the day 11 or 12 years ago I found a bead in my belly button.
I had forgotten the girls and I were playing with beads and they stuck it in there to make me pretty. Three days before I actually found it.
Or the time I was at work and used the ladies room. While washing my hands I looked in the mirror and noticed a huge parrot sticker stuck to the side of my hair. The girls had a ritual- they would give me a sticker in the morning to "remember them" while I was at work. They would put it on my shirt and I would take it off when I left the house. I changed my shirt that day after being stickered, and figured the sticker was still on the shirt. Nope, it was on my hair. And no one told me. I rode the A Train in that morning. For over an hour. And worked. For over an hour.
Or the time I had a Chiquita banana sticker stuck to my pants. I brought a banana to work and the sticker made it's way from the banana to my chair. I sat down and Tada! [cue music] I'm a Chiquita banana, and I'm here to say- I'm an asshat! Practically all day. Until my manager told me I had a sticker on my ass, and could he take it off for me? (The days before sexual harassment awareness...)
Or the time (this morning) I'm taking a shower and find an OB tampon wrapper (you know, the plastic middle piece that separates the top and the bottom) stuck on my ass. Was it from last night, when I changed the OB, or from this morning when I sat on the toilet? Either way, it was there for awhile because I was up at 5:00 am (see dreamscape below) doing stuff and I took a shower at 6:00 am.
Am I unusually sticky? Or maybe overly sweaty? Or just clueless.
I vote for clueless. I just picked up my lunch two blocks away with my suit jacket buttoned crooked. And wondered why the weird lady in the lobby was looking at ME weirdly.
I'm an asshat.
As he leaned over her sleeping body, her eyes snapped open and all she could see were his gleaming fangs. She twisted her head to the left, to see if her husband was awake and if he was, did he see what she was seeing? The intense pain she experienced when she turned snapped her head back- face to face with the vampire. She cried out- not because she was afraid, because she was strangely calm, but because her neck hurt so much. Did he already bite me, she thought? "No," he said aloud, "I didn't. Yet." Now she felt a small trickle of fear creep down her spine. Where was her husband? She moved her hand over the quilt to where her husband should be. There was the remote for the TV, but no husband. "He's not here," the vampire whispered in her ear. "There's no one here but you and me." She tried again to turn her head to the left, but again met with intense pain. She whimpered and the vampire, in reply to her murmur, brushed his fangs against the tight knot in her neck. "You have a pinched nerve, my love." He placed the points of his fangs against the pain. "Here, let me relieve you of the agony." As he shifted on the bed to place her in the most tender of embraces, she rolled to the left, ignoring the searing pain in her neck. The vampire fell on the empty spot and cried out in frustration. With a speed that defied nature, he was on her from behind, holding her head at an angle that would allow him access to the tight cable in her neck, as well as her vein. With a moan, he sank his fangs deep into the ache in her neck. She screamed, first her husband's name, then the name of the vampire, before she lost consciousness.
Deep in the comforting blackness, she heard the insects. They grew louder and louder until she rushed to the surface of the abyss and realized it was her alarm clock. It was 5:00. Time to get up.
A pinched nerve, True Blood and too many vampire books have invaded my dreams. Thanks, SS23, for starting the Dreamscape series.
Including posting for NaBloPoMo. Shit.
Did I mention I got the stomach virus Zombiegirl came down with? The stomach virus Beena then caught? Well I guess it wasn't the full blown virus I had on Thursday because I GOT IT AGAIN YESTERDAY! Let me recap my wonderful weekend...
Friday I had to go to New Jersey. I woke up with a migraine- I'll explain the reason why in a minute- and still queasy from the day before. I slept on the train and felt a little better before I got onto the ferry. Have I written about my commute to Weehawken once a month? Oh, it's so much fun. I take the 7:38 LIRR to Penn Station. Across the street from Penn I catch the NY Waterways Ferry bus to the ferry terminal. Then I take the Ferry to Weehawken. Add a plane to that and I've covered most modes of transportation. So to do all this with a migraine wasn't my idea of a good time. Much like sitting in a conference room all day going over the same crap we went over two weeks prior isn't my idea of a good time. You could say I go inot these meetings with a bad attitude already. Being sick didn't help. Plus, I was supposed to go out with work friends that night to celebrate some birthdays. I was just not feeling up to it, and I'm sure I hurt some feelings. Sorry, but not my fault.
I leave around 4:00pm but when I walk out, it's more like 9:00 pm. It was totally dark- did I black out for a few hours? Did the meeting run too long? Nope, the rains are coming. And come they did. The heavens opened up the minute I stepped out of the building (of course they did!) I shared my tiny umbrella with someone else walking to the ferry, then with this poor guy holding papers and getting soaked. With three people under my umbrella my poor new Coach bag got drenched, as did my sweater. I took it off on the ferry and actually wrung it out. So that's why I woke up with such a bad migraine- was it supposed to rain like this today?
I get home and it's a mad dash to get everything together for the craft sale on Saturday. All I want to do is go to sleep, but I have to remember to take everything with me, since we're going out to the beach house in order to leave at a decent time to make it to the Hamptons by 8:00 am the next morning. Beena is throwing up and I feel totally guilty leaving her. She reassures me she's going to sleep right after we leave. I still feel bad, but we have to go. At this point my head is pounding. I sleep in the car. MR is not happy.
The rest of Friday night I spend finishing up the Fairy wands I was sewing at the meeting (heh) and watching more of "Dead Like Me" on hulu.com. Why didn't I go to bed, you ask? Sleep is the ultimate relief, you say! Why did you stay up to make wands?
I was afraid I wouldn't have much to sell at the craft sale.
And it was a good thing I did. They all sold. But that's another post.
Fast forward to Sunday, the day we're supposed to go to Splish Splash and have everyone over for a BBQ. I wake up at around five in the morning with my ass telling me to Go! Go! Go! Quickly! I fly to the bathroom and...
Great. The Big D.
I go back to bed and fifteen minutes later- Go! Go! GO! This went on for an hour until my virus figured it would be more efficient if it found another exit. Go north, it said!
Have I told you how much I hate throwing up?
I cried myself back to bed, hating my body, hating the person who gave us this bug and hating MR becuase he didn't wake up and comfort me. What do I do about Splish Splash? And why does my head still hurt? Well, the Splish Splash thing worked out- MR dropped Zombiegirl off to meet up with the soccer families, and Beena recuperated enough that she and Big J went too. No one wanted to come over for a BBQ becuase I was infected , so I slept all day while MR played on the PC (thanks, Jeff!) I figured while I sleep I can't throw up. But the minute I woke up- Go! Go! GO!
Did I mention that while my body was betraying me this way I was also bleeding like a stuck pig? So I had all that crap to deal with, too. If I ever meet Eve in the Heaven, I'm going to punch her in the head.
I need vitamins.
Why this show ran only two seasons and was cancelled is beyond me. We absolutely love it.
I'll try to give a quick synopsis without giving too much info.
George (Ellen Muth), only 18 years old, is killed in a freak accident. Instead of going to Heaven (or Hell) she becomes a Grim Reaper, and joins a team of other Reapers lead by Rube (Mandy Patankin) . They have to collect the souls of people like you and me who die in other freak accidents so that they don't experiece too much pain and can move into the "Great Beyond" without too much stress.
Our protagonist is a college dropout who couldn't find her way in life and is having trouble finding her way in death. She's cynical and wry and sarcastic- but not in a grating way that makes you dislike her. She's a teenager who has to learn about life, and death. The team of Reapers is made up of Ruby (Jasmine Guy), a meter maid with an attitude, Mason (Callum Blue), a former drug addict and opportunist and Daisy (Laura Harris), an actress who was better known for her blowjobs than for her screen presence. The Reapers have all died with unresolved issues who aren't allowed to go into the afterlife until their lives are resolved.
Also trying to resolve George's death is her family. Joy, her mother, played by Cynthia Stevenson, is a cold and aloof mom who is realizing if she doesn't change, she's going to lose her other daughter, Reggie. Reggie (Britt McKillip) is trying to come to terms with her sister's death- a sister she wasn't really close to, but still looked up to. This cast is wonderful. They're annoying and snotty but human and frail, too.
The show was created and produced by Bryan Fuller who was responsible for shows such as Heroes and Pushing Daisies (another show about Death). It's a black comedy that uses humor to explore loss and loneliness, and mostly, regret. I've laughed through some tears, I'll admit it.
Who would like this show? Anyone who loved Six Feet Under, Dexter, True Blood or Pushing Daisies.
I do have moments of pure joy and happiness. No, really. I do. In fact this past week, I've experienced several. Walking in the city (on a Wednesday- Polyester Day- gasp!) after work last week. Instead of going down through Rockefeller Center to the F train, I had to mail a letter, so I exited at the street. I got caught up in a crowd of people (tourists!) who were just walking and laughing. Two of the girls were in totally wacky clothes. I was in the middle of this crowd and my heart swelled. I was like the Grinch, holding up all those presents, when his heart grew three times larger. I laughed to myself, walked another block with these people, and went underground. I was in a good mood the rest of the night.
Also last week, walking to the train station, listening to the Allman Brothers singing "Little Martha." I passed under a tree just as the wind blew and little droplets of rain scattered all around me. Listening to that song (even though it's a sad song) and experiencing those little raindrops and the wind in the trees gave me goosebumps. And my heart swelled again.
Sitting around a campfire, having kids jump at the chance to burn marshmallows for your s'more and talking with good friends is a definite good moment. Having all those people waiting and trying to help you down the hiking hill because you lost your balance, grabbed a tree and stepped on a loose stone and was laughing so hard you couldn't move was a definite good moment. Having your mom friends stick by you while you were choking (okay- that wasn't a good time) and then have the little ones come up to you to check to see if you were okay was a definite good moment. Eating awesome food cooked over an open fire on your new camp plate and the Drink of the Day refilled for you several times without even asking was a good moment. And every time I had a good moment, I thanked God for them. They're precious- they don't come along often. But when they do, I totally appreciate them.
Sorry if this post seems a little off. I don't think I did my moments justice. I'm still really tired- Zombiegirl is sick and I"m not feeling too hot myself. Give me awhile. I'll go back over it and try to clean it up.
Huge thanks to SS23 and R and Beena and Lola and Spencer for filling in for me. I was a little scared to see what you would write, but I realized I didn't have to worry. They were great posts- thanks for indulging my little promise to myself. I would be more enthusiastic, but I'm exhausted. Love you, and really, thanks.
Was I glad to go camping? Yes. Was I glad to come home? Again, yes. I'm tired, bruised, bitten, swollen, aggravated, achy and it hurts when I pee. But while we camped I laughed, snuggled, hiked, drank, sang, ate and had an awesome time with people I care about. So that good totally outweighs all the bad.
I did miss a hot shower by myself, which is one of the first things I did when I got home.
I'll tell you all about our trip in the next few posts.
So these past two weeks are what we call a floorset in retail world. It’s back to school and soon all the bratty teenagers will be in here demanding all the new clothes while their stressed out mothers pick up the tab. This floorset involves practically rearranging the whole store moving the old to the back and the new to the front. We have had shipment almost every day (opposed to 3 times a week), oh, and did I mention there is a deadline to get it done. So it’s safe to say everyone is pretty stressed out. Add that to the crazy customers we got in there today, makes for a good post. (Well at least I think so).
Today topped the cake. There is so much to do and all of our regular crazies came in today. So I decided to make a list of things NOT to do when you go into a retail store. Please, take my advice. Imp practically begging at this point. As a matter of fact, after this post, I might just go and write down the web address on every receipt so all the customers can read it too. Also, I am sorry if I sound mean. Ask Mom; once you get me started on work, I can’t shut up.
•This is a junior store. I know that you might want to fit into the clothes here, but in reality, you probably can’t. No, it’s not because everything runs small. No, it’s not because it must be the way it’s made. It is because it is made for 12-23 year olds. (23 is even pushing it but we do have some clubby tops and sexy lingerie that I can’t see 12 year olds using.) When you ask me why you can’t fit into your small top, I will try my best to be nice and say “well, it is a junior store”. Please save the awkwardness and don’t even ask. This is also a GIRLS junior store. No, we don’t sell men’s clothing.
•I know that you really really need that shirt ten minutes AFTER we close, but I am really not going to let you in. No matter how hard you beg. So please stop banging on the window.
•As a matter of fact, I do have a life outside of work so when you arrive at the door, look at the time we close, realize that that time is 1.5 minutes away, please walk away. Do not come in.
•Just because I work in retail, does not mean I am stupid. Again, I’m a math major. Please don’t come up to the register with a “50% off NOW 3.99” sticker you ripped off and stuck on the brand new $40 dress. I can do math.
•When you see that I am reworking an area, this does not mean that new merchandise is going out. So please stop standing right where I need to put the giant stack of shoes, and then knock them down when you start to look at them because you think they are new.
•If the first 4 doors you try in the fitting room are locked, there is no need to continue checking. They are all probably locked.
•Speaking of the fitting room, once you realize the bell goes off when you stand under it, please don’t stop in the doorway. This will not make me come to you any faster. Also, there is a sign there that says “6 items allowed” so when I ask you how many you have please don’t tell me “a lot” and expect me to open the room for you, this will not save you from counting your 100 items.
•I am very sorry to tell you that retail is out to confuse you. But by now, I hope that you will have already figured this out. Maybe not. Please, do not come up to me and tell me that your $20 shoes are $7.99 because you found it on the “$7.99 rack” my answer to you will automatically be “and up”. Every sign says it. Somewhere.
•No, there are no coupons out right now for you. Even if there were, why should I give you one? Please stop asking me.
•My wonderful retail store pays me. I do not get extra for babysitting, nor do you pay me for babysitting. Please watch your kids. It is not in my job description.
•I have a name. You might not know it but you may certainly not call me by any of the following:
o “Yoo hoo”
•Last but not least, before you ask; yes I work here. What gave it away? My bright blue neck lanyard? My smiling face? The fact that you just saw me behind the register?
So, it was my 26th birthday yesterday, and the weather was absolutely perfect!!! My sister and I headed down to the Jersey Shore at 8:30 am, we still hit a bit of traffic. A little before 10 a.m. we arrive to Long Branch Beach, love that beach; it's close clean perfect for a day at the shore. We didn't want to sit near the boardwalk since the beach is more crowded on that side, so we went to the more residential area of the beach and we found a nice man waving us down to give us his parking spot, Nice Guy. I took this a sign of a great day/ and year ahead. The lovely green yucky water was decent and the tides were pretty low so it was seriously a perfect day!! My sister, who loves the beach went back and forth to the water. I on the other hand love to sleep, so I took about 3 naps and read a book. WOW, me read, I haven't read a book in months. I probably read two books a year, so I guess I'm on track LOL.
OK so lets get to the meaty stuff, around 3pm we leave the beach and head back home. My mother, whom I don't live with (parents are divorced) kept calling me throughout the day, asking if I was going to come visit her. So I go, and I'm immensely disappointed. It's like frikin tradition to have a cake on your bday WHERE WAS MINE!!! NO CAKE, NO FOOD, NO CARD, NOTHING!!!!! Why was I there, did I mention I'm PMSING!!! so I'm PO'd and turned into a birthday brat!! I didn't get a cake, NO CAKE. I try to act calm and collected and for my mothers defense, she spent the day at a funeral. Sorry ma, but a cake takes 5 mins to buy. ( maybe I'll get one today, but it's not by birthday) I know I'm being a Brat :)
It's now Officially Night time "PARTY TIME" my sister, was nice enough to stay home (dads house) and cook some dinner so we wouldn't party on an empty stomach, or the fast food stomach, never have good results from that. Boy oh boy we Pre-gamed at home, we were ready to party (of course we had our DD, one of my bff's). So we go to crash a friends That party was seriously poppin. The music was great, the lights went out, everyone screamed the music came back on, I did some crazy Irish looking dance with some old guy. A really short guy danced with my sister. It was great, we had a blast, but must I say I'm getting old and this is no longer my scene. An hour and half after we're through with dancing, we all look at each do a head nod is perfect sync and head out laughing, can't hear a thing since the music was so loud met up with our other friends at the boring party took pics in the parking lot, like we were in high school, and had a blast, laughing, cracking jokes, it was great. I had a great night.
Still NO CAKE though :)
When I get back, I'll have an awesome giveaway, and a few 100 lists!
Stay tuned. And hope a bear doesn't eat me!
Hey there. SS23 here, guest blogging for Mamasoo. Ever since she asked me to post a day for her, I’ve been wracking my brain for what to write about. See, I’ve got my own blog and all, but I’ve been seriously lax in updating it lately (as she was kind enough to remind me of when I asked if I could link my own blog). I’ve been sidetracked with life and a wife and fun neighbors and not-so-fun neighbors and a stupid soap opera I’ve become a little scarily obsessed with, so I haven’t really been writing all that much. So yeah, I’ve been apprehensive about what to write about. Alas, I needn’t have worried because my inspiration came to me, literally, in a dream.
So, I had kind of a crappy day yesterday and I hadn’t been sleeping all that well earlier in the week, (Thanks, Not-so-fun neighbors!) and I just wanted to go to sleep early. So I did. 9:45 and I’m in my bed. Sweet, right? Well, it was, for a time. I slept pretty soundly, but I had one of those dreams. You know the kind. The ones that feel SO absolutely real that you are 100% convinced that it actually happened. Yeah, that kind.
So my dream started out with me in a tattoo shop. Par for the course, considering Mamasoo’s recent topics. Now to give a little background that’s required to understand what happened in my dream, I have two fairly large tattoos on my back. The smaller of the two is in the traditional ‘tramp-stamp’ location and is a claddagh design with my late grandmothers’ initials in the center of the heart. The larger of the two is an Amy Brown fairy design called Fire Dance and is located between my shoulder blades. It comes in at about 8” x 8” so its kinda big. However, I got this one three years ago and I wanted it without a black outline to maintain the feminine look of it. Little did I know, tattoos without a proper black outline will eventually seep out and sort of blend the colors together. My father now jokes at what a nice wine stain I have on my back. So, I am going to get the whole thing redone in the proper way while the design is still visible enough to fix. Hence, why I’m dreaming about tattoos. Now, background all set, back to the dream.
So, I’m in the shop and I’m showing the guy my tattoo and a picture of the real design and telling him what I want it to look like and we’re all in agreement. He understands me, I understand him. We’re all set. I get in the chair and the pain begins. I’m lucky enough to block out however long it actually takes him to do the tattoo and magically, I’m all done and he’s asking me if I’m ready to see it. I’m all sorts of excited and I go over to the full length mirror and I turn around and…..HORROR. From the bottom of my neck to the very top of my butt, he has crafted a humongous Egyptian style Dog-Pharaoh like THING, done entirely in blocks of red and black ink, done in Picasso’s cubism style, effectively covering both of my preexisting tattoos. The tattoo guy sees the look of utter disgust on my face and goes on the defensive, “What? You don’t like it?”
I must give him my bestest look of death ever, cause he backs up a step. Then I proceed to yell at him like I’ve never yelled at anyone in my life before. I’m just in complete and utter disbelief. I ask him if he was conscious when we had our pre-tattoo conversation. I don’t understand how on earth he thought that “make my fairy pretty again” meant “do whatever the hell you want with my ENTIRE freaking back”!!! At this point, I break down crying and sobbing and how much is the tattoo removal services for this going to cost me?? He’s still insisting that I pay for this atrocity, so I basically slap him upside his head and leave.
(Disclaimer: The entire section above beginning from the “What? You don’t like it?” until now was worded much more strongly and colorfully in my dream, cause that’s me. But since this is Mamasoo’s site, I’ll refrain from posting all the profanities that came out of me during this time. Thank you.)
So, when I actually wake up out of this nightmare, I actually run to the bathroom, whip off my shirt and make sure that there is no huge red and black pharaoh-dog on my back. Thank god there wasn’t. However, me not really being a chipper morning person, my wife realized the speed with which I got out of bed and asked what had gotten into me. I told her all about the dream and she started laughing. I wasn’t really finding anything funny at the moment, but she explained to me that she had come to bed around midnight. I was already asleep, but she said I was kind of twitching about and making generally angry sounding noises so she figured that I was having a bad dream. The only recognizable word I had uttered in my sleep was a resounding “DAMMIT”, which I found comical, considering all the other possible words that could have come out. I suppose I censor myself better in sleep than I do during the day!
Alright, that’s my little story for the day. Hope you enjoyed!
I loved those songs.
But I can only remember a handful.
And I taught the ones I could remember to the kids at our Soccer Camp trip last year. Now they're on my blog, so I will never forget them!
Like this one, complete with hand motions:
Then there's everyone's favorite repeat-after-me-song:
Up in the woods, oh way up there.
I see you ain't got any gun!
And right behind me came that bear.
A great big tree- Oh Lordy Me!
I'd have to jump and trust my luck.
And missed that branch oh way up there!
I caught that branch on the way back down.
Unless I meet that bear once more.
I sing the first part and everyone else sings the second part. The kids love this! EVERY time I sing it I think of all the good times I had with Mom and the Girl Scouts.
I learned the next song at Girl Scout training. I went on an overnight with GS trainers to learn how to (again) become a certified Camp Leader. Now I can take Zombiegirl's troop camping out to Camp Blue Bay in East Hampton and not lose any of the kids or set them on fire.
It's another repeat-after-me song:
Way oh way oh
Way oh way oh way oh way oh
And Zombiegirl is going to teach us a song she learned at 4H camp:
I gotta get back to my block
with a pizza in my hand
I’m gonna be a pizza man
I’m gonna be a pizza man
Hey, Hey, Bo Diddley Bop
I gotta get back to my block
with my car keys in my hand
I’m gonna drive my Chevy van
Chevy van, pizza man,
I’m gonna be a pizza man
Hey, Hey, Bo Diddley Bop
I gotta get back to my block
with a basketball in my hand
I’m gonna be like Michael Jordan
Michael Jordan, Chevy van, pizza man
I’m gonna be a pizza man
Hey, Hey, Bo Diddley Bop
with some noonchucks in my hand
I’m gonna be like Jackie Chan
Jackie Chan, Michael Jordan, Chevy van, pizza man
I’m gonna be a pizza man
I’m gonna be... a... piz... za... man !
Each verse gets louder until they're screaming the last verse. Lovely
Two more songs- The Princess Pat and Shark Attack, these kid's will be singing them all year long. They sing them in the car when they all get together, while they're hiking, at soccer practice and once they sang the bear song in Chorus! They all looked at each other and laughed!
Tell me this isn't the stuff memories are made of!
Some shots of last years camping trip:
So we're off to commune with the wild, drink copious amounts of alcohol, tie dye shirts and fish. And hopefully stay dry. Our track record is not too good. Our truck is totally stuffed- we might have to leave Zombiegirl home. Just kidding.
I showed you mine, now show me yours!
Tell me where you got it, and how long you've had it. I'll keep all names anon unless you tell me it's okay to post!
Send 'em in! I can't wait to see old and new friends, I mean tats!
Hey all you tattoo fans! Check out my most awesomest giveaway! Tell me you came here for the tattoo, win a chance at a $100 gift certificate....
My little brother got his first tattoo after his surgery to remove the first cancerous tumor. He was always little rebellious- he had me bleach and perm his hair once. This was the 80's- hair Bands rocked the day! My parents were totally against his getting a tattoo. They threatened to kick him out or disown him. All the nice things parents say when they don't want you to do something.
We got them last night at Peter Tat2 in West Hempstead on Hempstead Turnpike. John, the Assistant Manager was very patient with us, being virgins and all. Beena chose her inside leg, right above her ankle and I wanted it on my back because if I look at it too much, I'll get sad.
Beena went first, shaking like a leaf. She held my hand and sucked her Jolly Rangers (thanks for the tip, Paula!) It hurt, but my big girl didn't cry! I was so proud of her. I was joking around trying to take her mind off the pain. Halfway through I told her I changed my mind- I wasn't going to get one. She almost jumped out of the chair to strangle me! Twenty minutes later, she was done, wrapped up in a garbage bag (bandage.) My turn. Gulp!
I'm not going to lie and say it didn't hurt. It did and it was like no other pain I ever felt. I gave birth to BIG babies, with no drugs, so I figured I had a high tolerance for pain. Getting this tattoo was like having my skin flayed off. Slowly. With a hot, rusty knife. Well, not rusty- you can't feel rusty, right? I sucked it up and went into my "happy place" (no, Beena, not the hallway, even though the color does make me happy...) While I was concentrating on the wall patterns, I thought to myself that Mom would've been proud of us. As I think this thought, a tiny, pointy oval of light flickers onto the wall. Two or three seconds and it blinks out. It wasn't a reflection from anything- we were in the back room. I thought maybe John had a laser light on his needle machine, but my body and head would've blocked any light from behind where he was sitting. So I'll just take it as my Mom showed up and gave us her approval. I hope we melted her heart in heaven as well.
So bond with your children. If they tell you they want to get a tattoo instead of threatening to throw them out, go with them! lol! Love you, Beena!
I am addicted to Chipotle's Vegetarian Burrito Bowl.
Big freakin' deal, you may say? It's good for you.
Yes, it may be pretty healthy, and not the worse thing that I've consumed at lunchtime in NYC. But it's also eight freakin' dollars! For salad.
So what, you may also say? At least it's not as expensive as that Chop't place all the suits wait forever on line for.
Okay, yes. It's not as expensive as Chop't. But considering I can eat this every single day for lunch, as well as drag MR over to the one by PC Richard's on the weekend, it's frightening that I'm even considering shelling out $40 for my lunch for the week.
But think of all the guacamole goodness. And the cilantro. Don't you LOVE cilantro?
Okay, okay, I agree. The guacamole is absolutely to die for. And the rice with the cilantro makes me happy, very happy. But everyday? Won't I get sick of it? And it's eight dollars!
Think about the salsas, though. The fresh tomato salsa and the tomatillo red-chili salsa. The roasted corn salsa. The cheese! How can you possible get sick of the best burrito bowl in the world?
Okay, you're right. It's a GOOD addiction. And healthy, too!
That's right! Now pass the hot sauce...
Lately, all I've been reading is vampire books. The Black Dagger Brotherhood, House of Night, Happy Hour of the Dead, The Anita Blake books and of course, Twilight. Either my taste has changed and this is what I'm honing in on at the library, or the literary world is tapping into the bloodlust of America. And with the popularity of HBO's True Blood it truly is a bloodfest.
And I found out while watching True Blood that I am in demand because of my rare blood type. I'm AB-, the favorite blood type of vamps and the New York City Blood Center, who calls 2-3 times a day for me to give blood. Isn't it nice that someone wants you unconditionally (at least parts of you?)
"I never knew what life was until it ran out in a red gush over my lips, my hands!" -Anne Rice, Interview with the Vampire
Too tired to prepare a post.
We were watching "Dead Like Me" on Hulu and I asked MR what I should write about. He said I should write that too many people were selling baby things at yard sales. Which is true, but not blog worthy. I thought about writing about our upcoming camping trip because I packed and prepared all day for it but it's not for a few days- it seems a little premature. I thought about writing about what I'm going to make for the craft sale in Westhampton in two weeks...but thinking about how much I don't have made is depressing.
So what to write?
MR just suggested I write about a habit of his. Since it makes me smile and look at him in a weird way that's what I'll write about.
MR skootches. I think I spelled that right. No, he doesn't rub his ass across the rug- he slides two pieces of material against each other between his fingers. It makes a skootching noise most of the time. It makes a skootching feel between your fingers. I know. Weird.
Here- try it. Take a piece of organza, pinch it between your fingers and slide it back and forth against itself. It goes skootch, skootch. It sets my teeth on edge sometimes but he's comforted by it. I'll wear something or we'll be shopping and he'll grab the material and skootch it. Proclaim it "good skootching material" and get a dreamy look on his face. I love this about him. His quirky little habit left over from his childhood (ever see the satin edge of a baby blanket? His first skootching experience.)
This is really his only compulsive habit. And it's not an every day thing. Not like me and my cuticle picking, or zit squeezing (I know, I know- disgusting. But hey- Googling that little gem just gave a name to MY condition- Dermatillomania! I have a disorder! Woohoo! Now about that therapist...) MR only skootches when the situation presents itself. He doesn't go out of his way to purposely skootch. It's actually kind of cute when I catch him doing it without him knowing I was watching. Zombiegirl hasn't displayed any kind of obsessive behavior yet, but she liked skootching when MR showed her how.
So there. On a day that was supposed to be a happy celebration, you got skootched!
Yesterday I get a convo from Etsy. My first commission! This little baby is sold!She's going to a customer who, six years ago, asked his girlfriend if he could buy her anything what would she want? She said "A Stegosaurus!" He finally decided to ask her to be his wife and he's using MY stegosaurus to help him propose! How freaking awesome is this? I hope he puts the ring on the tail!
I made three of these dinos for my nieces and nephew, and one each for Parker and JJ. I took the pictures before I wrapped them, and put them on Etsy as a made-to-order item. The customer picks the colors and I'll sew it up. This way I don't have these giant dinosaurs (two feet long) sitting in my office waiting to be sold. So this customer wants black, red and green. (eesh) I'll go and pick the fabric, email him the samples and get his approval. While I'm at it, I'll make a second one to sell at the West Hampton craft sale in 3 weeks. It's really not a big deal to make two at the same time. (I don't have a picture of the Brontosaurus I made for Lilly. I also made that Brontosaurus for the little girl in the family my office adopted at Christmas. Is it a Brontosaurus anymore? I think it's really an Apatosaurus, but the pattern is so old they still call it a Bronto!)
I get so excited when someone actually wants to pay money for the things I create. When I make something for someone as a gift, I always picture that item in the recipient's life. As a gift, it's kind of forced on them. But when someone wants to pay me for my talent- wow. That just blows me away every time.
Check out the Etsy tab for other stuff I'm still selling!
So, to explain...Kendal taught Z-girl this finger play rhyme one day going to the beach. Like most of their exchanges (Nom, Nom, Nom, Nom, Nom, Nom, Nom) it's been stuck in my head.
Also, Crazy, Nutty, Mental Llama is really Mentally Disabled Llama, but I changed it in order not to offend my mentally disabled friends. Hi guys! (waving frantically!)
The Mission: Complete 101 preset tasks in a period of 1001 days.
The Criteria: Tasks must be specific with a result that is either measurable or defined.
Why 1001 Days? Many people have created lists in the past - frequently simple goals such as new year's resolutions. The key to beating procrastination is to set a deadline that is realistic. 1001 Days (about 2.75 years) is a better period of time than a year, because it allows several months or seasons to complete the tasks, which is better for organizing and timing some tasks such as overseas trips or outdoor activities.
Start Date: August 5, 2009
End Date: May 12, 2012
1. Lose 30 pounds (0/30)
2. Fit into old pair of jeans- the ones in my bottom drawer.
3. Complete 6 sessions with Tameko, my trainer. (0/6)
4. Maintain a workout schedule of at least 3 days a week at the gym.
5. Practice yoga at least 4 days a week.
6. No cheating with bacon. Or meatballs. Unless it's deer.
7. Have a green salad once a day.
8. Cut back the pre-made veggie burgers to once a week.
9. Buy and use the Diva Cup.
10. Continue going to the dentist to have my teeth fixed.
11. Take my vitamins and herbs daily.
12. Put makeup on everyday. At home, before I leave. Not at work or on the train.
13. Blog about the progress of these Body items on the first of every month.
14. Build up savings account to equal 6 months of salary.
15. Fix credit report.
16. Refinance the house.
17. Get quotes on new insurance for house and car.
18. Secure 2 more years of student loans for Beena.
19. Sell stuff on Ebay.
20. Transfer coupon savings into ING account. Try to save $700 a year.
Family and Friends
21. Arrange ceremony to scatter Mom's ashes.
22. Spend more time with Dad.
23. Attend Beena's college graduation.
24. Attend Zombiegirl's 5th grade graduation.
25. Have Communion party for Zombiegirl.
26. Celebrate Beena's 21st birthday in a big way.
27. Be active in PTA for 5th grade.
28. Write or email my aunts regularly.
29. Make and follow family meal plan. Remember to keep it healthy.
30. Meet a long lost friend for lunch.
31. Have a "no reason" dinner party.
32. Go shopping more with the girls.
33. Yearly camping trip or rent a house with soccer families.
34. Yearly "Mom's" overnight trip. (0/3)
35. Go out with "Mom's" once a month. (0/33)
36. Plan MR and my 50th birthday party.
37. Send handmade birthday cards to everyone in my calendar. And NOT late.
38. Do not gossip or rant about friends to friends.
40. Finish all the alterations on that pile of clothes in the sewing room.
41. Build up my Etsy shop and sell something.
42. Make all my own Christmas cards. (0/3)
43. Make 50% of all my Christmas gifts. (0/3)
44. Make enough merchandise to rent my own table at craft sales.
45. Make an article of clothing and wear it to work.
46. Clean out and organize sewing room.
47. Make mirror for living room using broken Fiesta pieces.
48. Learn how to crochet a granny square.
49. Finish MR's Christmas stocking.
50. Visit 2 states I've never been to before. (0/2)
51. Hike 2 more sections of the Appalachian trail. Overnite. (0/2)
52. Take a "real" family vacation. (0/1)
53. Play "tourist" in NY once a month. (0/33)
54. Try five new restaurants. (0/5)
55. Go to new Citi Field and new Yankee Stadium. (0/2)
Just for Me
56. Get my Pistol Permit
57. Upload all our CD's into our hard drive
58. Scrapbook 2008 photos in 2011.
59. Scrapbook 2007 photos in 2010.
60. Scrapbook 2006 photos in 2009.
61. Finish Beena's school scrapbook.
62. Help dad get the Mustang on the road.
63. Get passports for the whole family.
64. Cross 3 things off my bucket list. (0/3)
65. Learn the basics of Photoshop.
66. Learn how to make a blog template using html and Photoshop.
67. Get my 2 tattoos. (0/2)
68. Organize my computer files. Including flash drives.
69. Find a therapist.
70. Read the newspaper everyday.
71. Watch Gone With the Wind, Doctor Zhivago, Great Expectations, The Maltese Falcon, La Dolce Vita, Casablanca , North by Northwest, Rear Window, 39 Steps, The Man Who Knew Too Much, Psycho, Notorious, Dial M for Murder and Spellbound. With popcorn. (0/14)
72. Re-read Sherlock Holmes.
73. Blog about each completed item.
Greening my life
74. Make net produce bags.
76. Collect rainwater- ask for barrel for Christmas!
77. Grow herbs every year.
78. Balustrades and newel posts for the upstairs stairwell.
79. Replace the ceiling and tile in the upstairs bathroom.
80. Change the theme of the upstairs bathroom.
81. New baseboard molding in the kitchen.
82. Start cleaning out the basement for TV room.
83. Start demolition on the downstairs bathroom.
84. Make the fountain for the backyard.
85. Finish walkways in backyard.
86. Follow Flylady everyday.
87. Renew relationship with St. Andrew's.
88. Engage in 25 random acts of kindness. (0/25)
89. Read the Bible.
90. List 100 things that make me happy in a blog.
91. Participate in 5 community service activities. (0/5)
92. Maintain St. A's website.
93. Sketch and doodle in new sketchbook.
94. See beauty everyday. Blog or put it down in sketchbook.
95. New digital SLR camera
96. A pistol
97. A drawer dishwasher
98. A dual flush toilet for the downstairs bathroom
99. A sink for the downstairs bathroom
100. A new refrigerator for the basement
101. A new hybrid car
Tip#1: Walk like you're driving. Walk on the right side of the sidewalk. When entering or exiting the subway, keep to the right. Don't "double park" on the sidewalk- pull it over to the side so that people can pass. Don't hog the highway. If you're with a group, don't walk side-by-side, four abreast and slow so no one can get by. And mostly- don't talk or text on the cell in the middle of the sidewalk. Pull over!
Tip#2: Be conscious of people around you. If you're walking down the streets of Manhattan, chances are a thousand other people are walking down the same block as you. If you suddenly stop to look up at the Empire State Building, someone is going to run into your ass. Know this, and do not be pissed off. Again- pull your ass over. And if you stop to take a picture without looking around to see if anyone is going to cross into your picture, do NOT call that person a bitch because she ruined your picture. Take your socks and sandals over to the side of the sidewalk and look around and WAIT if necessary until the coast is clear. We did NOT get the memo to vacate Manhattan so that you can take pictures at your leisure.
Tip#3: Do your research before you come into the city. There are TONS of websites and books devoted to making your stay in Manhattan a memorable experience. Just because the LIRR goes to New York doesn't mean you should just get on it and figure it out when you get there. Plan your trip. Find out what train goes where you need to go. Standing at the subway map blocking the platform is inconsiderate and pisses me off when I can't get by. Take a map with you- it's downloadable from the NYC Transit website.
Tip#4: If you don't know, ask. Native New Yorkers and New York City commuters are not as scary as people have been lead to believe. If you can't figure out where you're going (see Rule #3) ask someone- a security guard, the hot dog vendor, the guy holding the Wall Street Journal, the woman smoking on the sidewalk in front of her building (thanks lady!) I can't vouch for everyone, but I know when I'm asked a question like which way is Madison Avenue, I'm happy to help out.
Tip#5: Orient yourself. In midtown, if you're facing uptown (street numbers going up) then the East side is on your right and the West side is on your left. Reverse facing downtown.
Tip#6: Don't wear matching outfits. This only works if you're in a large group and need to keep track of everyone. Mom, Dad and the kids? You look like morons.
Tip#7: Speaking of groups- If you're all together and waiting to get into the matinee of Mamma Mia, don't all stand around blabbing and blocking the sidewalk. Stand next to the building. You had time enough to blab on the bus.
Those are my tips for a happy healthy symbiotic relationship with New Yorkers. Now if we can get the inconsiderate New Yorkers to work on the SAME TIPS it'll be a happy place for everyone. Especially me. Cuz you know how cranky I get...
We have to find him another home.
But that's another story...
So I really only have time for a quickie post. The neph-cies (nephew and nieces) will be here in a little while, and I still have to get ready for this wedding. While cleaning (and singing my Nom, Nom, Nom, Nom, Nom, Nom, Nom song) I figured I would post on my choice of cleaning supplies. I've been interested in the "green" movement for awhile now, and I'm recycling everything. It's only natural that I would bring my cleaning supplies into the green scene.
Windows- This is an old trick I attribute to my mom. Vinegar and water. She used this the day she went into labor with me- she did all the windows in the apartment to try to stimulate labor. It worked! Vinegar is natural, biodegradable, chemical-free and does a far superior job on leaving windows streak free than Windex or other window cleaners. Use a sheet of newspaper to get a beautiful shine. Lay the newspapers out flat to dry, and you can recycle them! No paper towels in the landfill.
For general cleaning- I've found, at Costco, the Kirkland Environmentally Friendly Multi-Purpose Cleaner. It's a 170oz container with an additional 32oz spray bottle. It's a plant-based cleaner with a nice citrus scent. Finally! Thank you Costco, for offering a few more of these environmentally friendly organic items! It works just as well as Fantastic or any of the other chemical based cleaners.
Rug Deodorizer- With the aforementioned Yellow Lab, and the other Lola-like dog, my rug stinks. I sprinkle a cup of Arm and Hammer Baking Soda on the rug (it's a small area rug- 6' x 8') and let it sit for a few minutes. I vacuum it up with my Dyson and no more smell! Plus it makes the vacuum smell better...
Counter tops and Stove tops- We have tile counter tops, and the grout gets discolored and gross- especially in the wet areas. I do use a diluted bleach once a week to bring back the color of the grout, but for everyday use I put a little of the Baking Soda on a sponge and wipe the counters down. Follow up with a rinse and my counter tops are deodorized and sparkling!
Those are some of my contributions to the planet. There's no reason to bring chemical cleaners into your house, or contribute paper towels to the landfill. If everyone did their part and put a little thought into their consumption the world would be a better place!
Cue upbeat music.
I'm out. Tomorrow I'll do the restaurant review- I'll have more time at work!
I haven't been able to give the house a good cleaning, or the garden a good weeding in weeks. Summer's always tough since we go to the beach house on the weekends. Add to that trying to *finally* finish up the painting in the hallway upstairs.
So while I'm doing all this work, instead of listening to showtunes on one of the upper cable channels (like I always do when I'm either home alone or cleaning) I've been humming these little songs Zombiegirl has turned us on to:
The video is awesome. So of course we have to investigate more of these brilliant videos, and we discover Parry Gripp.
According to the LA Times, "Gripp is a 41-year old Santa Barbara native and lead guitarist and vocalist for his band Nerf Herder" and part owner of an orchid nursery. "Between working shifts at the family-owned nursery, he writes music to acccompany various YouTube clips. Some of his most popular are "Cat Flushing a Toilet", and "Chimpanzee Riding on a Segwey".
"Then there's his biggest hit, "Do You Like Waffles," which has been mashed up by numerous fans on YouTube. The song has been selling between 300 to 400 per week for the last year, Gripp said. That adds up to $20,000 before Apple takes its cut. And that's just one song.
Gripp can't participate in YouTube's revenue sharing model, where the company gives some of the ad money to video producers, because he doesn't own the underlying videos that his music accompanies. He instead uses the videos' popularity to drive sales of the songs on iTunes and ringtones.
He's pleased with the money coming from these outlets. All the attention, he said, has spurred deals to write promotional songs for the Wawa chain of convenience stores and for a cartoon called "Super Hero Squad."
It beats the rock 'n' roll lifestyle, he says. "Most of your time is spent either in a van or a bus," he wrote in an instant message. "You get to whatever place you are going to play at, and then you wait around forever. The actual playing is fun, but the rest of it sucks."
Well, Parry, thanks. Your song "Nom, Nom, Nom, Nom, Nom, Nom, Nom" is going through my head this minute. My kids are tired of me asking them if they like waffles. My husband doesn't understand why I'm telling him "up my butt with a coconut." You're a genius, Parry. And you're my next cell ringtone. Now to decide which song...
Tomorrow? My first restaurant review.