Inner Pieces

Bye, Bye, Blogger

2010-05-27T06:56:00.004-04:00

A coworker and I were lamenting the fact that we can't post our blogs to Blogger at work. Big Brother is watching us constantly, and Blogger and all it's Googly cousins are blocked. She came up with the idea to switch to another blog host. I was thinking about it- most of the bigger blogs I read are on Wordpress, Typepad and/or Tumblr. I always thought they either cost money or were too hard to use.

Well, they don't and they aren't! So this blog is now moving over to Wordpress.

Thank you, Blogger, for making it easy for me to blog these past few years. And nothing against you, Blogger. I have a backlog of posts in my email inbox waiting to be posted and no time when I get home to do so.

You can now find me here! Don't forget to change your bookmarks!

The Kid Is Alright

2010-05-23T21:29:00.010-04:00

"How's Dad doing?" "How's your father holding up?"

I get these questions often. We celebrated my niece Lily's 3rd birthday today. During the party, my in-laws asked me how Dad was. Last Friday at our monthly meeting, I haven't seen my friend Toufek in a while. I was training him to work in one of my buildings while Mom was at the end of her fight with cancer and the doctors had told her they can't do anything for her. I spent the majority of the time on the phone with Dad crying and then apologizing afterwards for not working. He understood and left me a very heartfelt phone message after Mom passed. Friday he considerately asked me how my Dad was doing.

How is my Dad doing? I'm sure he has his moments and times where he gets sad, but honestly? I think Dad is doing freaking great!

Dad reads my blog. (Hi Dad!) He discovered it when I sent him an email- the blog address is in my signature. I was a little chagrined that my DAD was reading all my inner thoughts and crap that I deem important. (GOD- did he read the bloody Diva cup post? I sincerely hoped he skipped that one.) A quick glance at my blog list- nah, there's nothing in there (except the Diva cup post) that would make me a little squirmish when I saw Dad.

So because today is his birthday, I want to dedicate this post to him to tell him how proud I am of him. He's doing all the things Mom did all those years- shopping, banking, paying bills. He buys birthday gifts for the family. He found a new insurance company for the house. He pimped out his truck- ghostly flames and LED lights. He tried Thai food.

Last Saturday, he goes with me and gets this:

Yes, Dad got inked.

So did I. Dad's heart tattoo honors my Mom and my brother, tricked out with blue flames to match his truck. I finally got my poison ivy tattoo- my little talisman against getting poison ivy every year. Mine also honors Mom and my brother, Robbie, as well as our friend J. Can you see the initials in the vines? While mine hurt like hell, Dad didn't flinch, he claims it didn't hurt at all. I wish I had his nerve endings. He's already planning on going back this week to add more to his tat! Someone's addicted!

I've been inked with my daughter, now I got inked with my dad. The guys at Sparrow Tattoo in West Hempstead said they've never had that combination before.

Then today, I get the surprise of my life-an email requesting me as a Facebook friend...from Dad!

My Dad is on Facebook. He wanted to find some long lost friends, so he signed up. At 74, he got a tattoo and signed onto Facebook.

My daddy rocks.

Happy Birthday, Dad! Keep doing what you're doing and you'll be fine!

I love you.
.

All That Pomp and Circumstance

2010-05-18T21:03:00.004-04:00

So much to say, so much to write....but first and most importantly;

My daughter is a college graduate. Yes, Beena- my eldest- graduated today from Adelphi University with a Bachelor of Science degree in Math.

Those were the quickest four years of our lives.

Three thousand undergrads and graduates walked across the stage at Nassau Coliseum. Three thousand brown and gold students switched their tassels from one side to another. Three thousand students cheered when the President of the School congratulated them on being the Class of 2010.

And my Beena was one of them.

Beena, one part of your life has ended, but another, more important part has begun. You have officially become an adult. If you were not going on next year (and this summer) for your Master's, you would be starting to look for a job. A real job.

Such responsibilities to look forward to! And maybe a little scary?

I see only good things for you in the future. Your work ethic is wonderful- who, at the age of fourteen, was running their mother's business for them? You were. You were a full time student and managed to practically run the retail store you've worked in since high school. I have no doubt you'll find a job in a school you love, teaching kids you love. You love putting together lesson plans. Your favorite time of the year was always "back-to-school" because you love school supplies. You were born to teach.

I am so proud of you! Don't be discouraged or afraid to do those adult things you're going to have to do in the future. Daddy and I will always be here to help and guide you when you need us. Please don't think we're crazy. We love you and always want the best for you!

Oh, and thanks for graduating! Since I didn't go to my college graduation, going to yours was extra special to me. And yes, we'll be going to your Master's ceremony same time next year. We wouldn't miss it. We've got this graduation thing down- we know what to expect!

So conGRADulations, graduate! The world is yours- take advantage of it! There is so much out there to experience!

Love you, Beena! Lots and lots and lots. Right? Right! Begub...begub...begub.

A Sleep Trance, A Dream Dance

2010-05-12T21:42:00.005-04:00

Synchronicty. No, not the Police Album (even though it is one of my favorites.) I’m talking about the experience of two events that are apparently unrelated occurring together in a meaningful manner. It’s happening to me more and more, and in more startling ways. Even Zombiegirl is noticing.

Or maybe I’m just in tune with the world these days. Like waving to my neighbor in his red pickup and then seeing four more red pickups -not his- on the way to the train station. I notice things. I’m paying attention.

Example Number 1: I’m web surfing at work and I hit one of my Web Pals. She mentions that she just bought tickets for Roger Waters- The Wall Live. The SECOND I read this an email pops up in my second monitor. It’s an update from Nassau Coliseum. The featured event? Roger Waters- The Wall Live.

Example Number 2: MR drops Zombiegirl and I at the train station. She has inherited her father’s skill in finding dropped items on the ground. She kneels down and picks up a Scrabble Tile piece. Weird enough that there is a game piece at the train station, right? Weirder still that I just ordered Scrabble Tile pieces to make Christmas presents this year. Weirder yet…she turns it over and it’s an “S”. (Insert spooky music here.)

Example Number 3: I just took two books out of the library-"The Little Giant of Aberdeen County" by Tiffany Baker and "Raven Black" by Ann Cleeves. I finished Little Giant (which was really good) and I started on Raven. Somewhere well into the book, they mention one of the characters going to…Aberdeen.

Example Number 4: May 3rd was J’s birthday. Our dear departed friend J. On his Facebook page, one of his friends called him a Rockstar. Walking to the train station that day, I noticed the inscription in the sidewalk that was replaced last year…

Example Number 5: Driving to the gym at 5:30 in the morning, I listen to the Z-morning zoo for the eight minutes it takes me to get there. On the way there, I hear Taio Cruz' Break Break Your Heart. I park, and walk the block to the gym. Halfway into my workout with Mike, I hear Break Break Your Heart. I leave the gym a half hour later, get into my car and guess what song comes on the radio while driving home. Go on, guess!

Example Number 465: This happens all the time to MR and I. That's why the high example number. We'll sit to watch a movie noting who directed it and any actors we know/like. We'll flip through the channels and find another movie by the same director or with one of the actors. WITHOUT FAIL. It's getting to be a little weird...

These are all little things, but noticeable to us. Is anyone else experience coincidences, deja vu or synchronicity lately?

Freaky.

F*CK YOU Friday!

2010-05-07T20:43:00.009-04:00

This was a pretty quiet week. I had a great time with Jodi last Friday- we went to see Promises Promises at the Broadway Theater, courtesy of MR. Thanks, honey- that was an awesome birthday gift! Jodi and I had dinner at Iguana on 54th Street first. After the train to the city, and a full day of work, we were looking forward to a drink. I had my first martini (Sexy Cactus Martini) since the Great Martini Debacle. But that's another post...

If you go to Iguana for dinner, I totally recommend the fresh guacamole appetizer. A dude comes over to your table and makes it for you. Holy Guacamole, is it good! Tofu fajitas for me, shrimp tacos for Jodi. This place has never failed me!

The play was really good, too. I always regretted not seeing Kristen Chenowith when she played in Wicked, so I was looking forward to seeing her in this. Due to her recent appearance on Glee, there were a bunch of "Gleeks" there just to see her. Okay, there were also a LOT of GUYS there to see Sean Hayes, who plays Jack on Will and Grace. Jodi dubbed them "Just Jacks." He's a very visual comic, and although he isn't foremost a singer, he did a pretty decent job.

It was a good night.

The week had it's moments, though. Thus the next installment of F*CK YOU Friday!

More bus drama. F*CK YOU to the Asian lady with the stinky fish riding the bus last Monday. How on earth could one eat something that smelled so disgusting? We all breathed DEEPLY when you got off the bus.

F*CK YOU to the dude who hit me in the face with his bag on Wednesday. Thank goodness you only had a newspaper in the bag. Look, I totally understand the "bus-stops-short-so-you-grab-the-pole-and-it-swings-you-around." I've been there. Put your bag in the other hand then, man! This way when you grab the pole, the bag swinging from your wrist doesn't smack anyone (me) in the face. My lip still hurts...

F*CK YOU Faisal Shahzad for leaving a bomb in Times Square Saturday. It was the day after Jodi and I enjoyed a nice stroll after the play through the madness of Times Square. That was a little too close for comfort, you terrorist prick.

F*CK YOU to oak trees. Mine in particular. There are four LARGE oak trees hanging over my property from the county in the back and my neighbor on the side. I've accepted and have even come to enjoy planting for shade, since that's all I got. But every other year or so, the trees spit out these wormy nurdles and they get all over the place. Walking on my sidewalk is like walking on carpet- your feet don't make a sound. Poor MR has swept up almost every day and we still get piles like this... Apparently these things are called catkins and it's the male stamen that first releases pollen, then falls on the ground. Leave it to a male to make a mess...

F*CK YOU to all the little mice living in my garage. They've nested just about everywhere- in every box, every bin and bag we have. We've had to clean out box after box of garage sale items, party place stuff and memorabilia. Sadly, we had to toss a lot of things because they were completely ruined. Including all the colored sand I had promised to Little Saints Preschool. Not only was there a nest in the box and all the sand stunk like piss, there were dead mice in the bin as well. Good thing we checked before bringing it to the school! How long have they been in there? Time for more of these.

F*CK YOU to the visiting team the Panthers played last week. Not only were the parents obnoxious and loud (and on a Player's Weekend- it's a game where the players can play with no distractions from the parents or the coaches) but I counted five, FIVE, white Yukons in the parking lot. Do you know how big a Yukon is? I'd have to drive 100 Prius' to offset the footprint of a Yukon. And really people, did you all PLAN to drive the same car? I'm friends with all Zombiegirl's teammates parents. I would NEVER purchase the same car if one of them bought a new car. T-A-C-K-Y.

F*CK YOU to everyone who didn't wish me a Happy Birthday (hellooo CAFM TEAM) or remembered the next day. Just because I'm old doesn't mean I'm not young at heart and don't still enjoy celebrating my day. Where's the love, guys?

New post tomorrow! And that picture is taken with my Android. Not too bad!

Cross My Heart

2010-05-05T22:45:00.001-04:00

Another post coming soon. Damn work keeps interfering with my blog!

We Love MoMA and Justina*

2010-05-02T08:41:00.012-04:00

I crossed my fingers as we went through the revolving doors. This was the fourth time we were trying to see the Exhibit. As we crossed the lobby, Zombiegirl spotted members of her own species- striped, goth-like people wearing articles of clothing featuring that broad, smiling skull face, colored hair and high-topped Converse. Splashes of bright color against dark brooding clothing.

She pointed out to me everyone going to the Tim Burton exhibit.*. She fits right in.

I kept my fingers crossed as we waited on line at the Guest Services desk. Waiting for tickets through my company's corporate sponsorship. This was our only hope since the exhibit has been sold out for weeks and it was closing in five days. This was our only hope since Zombiegirl wouldn't be coming to work with me until the summertime. She was here today because it was Take Our Kids To Work Day and it was her last chance. I crossed my toes just to be on the safe side.

The bored girl at the desk told us there were no more tickets left. They give out the Corporate tickets first thing in the morning and they were all gone for the day.

I wanted to cry. We struck out again.

Zombiegirl looked so upset. She couldn't believe she wouldn't be able to see her hero's work. Burton is the Director of all her favorite movies, the man who has directed her favorite actor. We've tried four times- why couldn't we get in,? she asks.

We have bad luck, I tell her. I offer to buy her something from the MoMA bookstore, knowing they have the Exhibit book.

As we walk back across the lobby, she spies a girl a little older than her sporting Jack Skellington shirt, bag, hat and socks. They make eye contact- Z-girl staring at the outfit, the girl staring at her red-streaked hair. The girl's mother notices them staring at each other and quick turns to me and asks me if I need a ticket. Her other daughter wasn't able to make it that day and she has an extra child's ticket for a half hour from now. I told her I couldn't get another ticket for myself and she tells me to buy an individual membership and they give a free ticket.

A total stranger helps us out.

After thanking her profusely, we go over to the Member Services desk so I can buy an Indivdual Membership. What? It costs $75? No, that must be for a Family Membership. No, it's per person. I turn to Z-girl and tell her I can't afford $75.

That dejected look is starting to kill me.

Do you want to go by yourself? I'll wait outside for you. No, maybe that's not a good idea, I think. Do you want to go with the lady that gave us the ticket? No, she's gone already and I really want to go with you, she says. The walk to the bookstore is quiet and heavy.

Inside, we see the display of Tim Burton books. Zombiegirl picks up an enormous art tome and starts reading. She wants this one- full color photos, harcover, two inches thick. It's $69. This day is killing me! I steer her to the $20 book- she looks through it and agrees. After walking around a little we find TB playing cards. She's a little happier as we wait on line.

When we're called next, we put our purchases on the counter, but the salesperson turns to another customer who had asked her a question. She tells them they're all sold out. Another Burtonesque-type couple asks her something and again, she tells them they're sold out. She turns to us and apologizes as she rings up our things.

What are you sold out of, I ask?

Tim Burton Stain Boy t-shirts. I tell her that's not the only thing they're sold out of- and proceed to lament how we've tried four times to see the exhibit, how much Zombiegirl loves Tim Burton and how we won't be able to come back to try again. How I tried to get tickets through Corporate Sponsorship. She looked at the kid and was quiet for a moment. First, she says, I can give you 20% off your purchases for being a Corporate Sponsor. She asks me if I can wait around for a few minutes, she wants to check something out.

We're not going anywhere.

She tells me, very quietly, that she has to get an employee guest pass for her husband who's coming in later that day. She said she'll check to see if she can get two more for us. She said SHE feels bad that we've tried four times to see the Exhibit. She said Zombiegirl's face makes her sad.
We wait on the side of the line while she runs off, dodging tourists and Burton fans.

Ten minutes later she comes back with two employee passes and a big grin on her face. As she hands them to Z-girl, she smiles even wider, saying the look on the kid's face is totally worth it. As I burst into tears (ignoring Zombiegirl's admonishments about my crying) I ask her for her name. She hands me her card- she's the store manager- and I give her a hug. Thanking her and telling her people just don't DO nice things in New York, we laugh and make our way back upstairs to the Exhibit.

Which was awesome and SO worth the agony of dejection and waiting.

Walking back and forth in the crowd of people recognizing early sketches and artwork of Tim's characters. Seeing the suit Johnny Depp wore in Edward Scissorhands and having Zombiegirl almost faint. Picking out your favorite Jack Skellington head of the 30 on display. Watching the gross but funny Stain Boy cartoons.

It was all worth it.

And it wouldn't be possible without the kindness of strangers.

Thanks, Justina!* You've restored my faith in the human race.

UPDATED: *Names and links have been changed and deleted to protect the innocent and good.

That Started From This Tropic Port Aboard This TIny Ship

2010-04-28T22:13:00.003-04:00

One of my favorite gifts I received this birthday was one from Rob.

Rob Schiff. Best Man, musician, personal IT support, printer, Showerhead and all-around great guy.

He's a friend of ours that's closer to our family than some of our family members.

Guys usually don't put a lot of thought into their gifts. MR does, but he's my husband. It meant so much that Rob thought about this gift months before my birthday. He got me this:

I remember going to my great-Grandmother's house and using this little guy to pour milk over my cereal. MR remembers having one too as a kid. I don't know how Rob knew we would remember this from our childhood. He must have known it would fit so well with these.

Thanks, Rob. I think everyone needs a Moo Cow Creamer!

Just Sit Right Back and You'll Hear a Tale, A Tale of a Fateful Trip

2010-04-23T21:46:00.006-04:00

No F*CK YOU Friday today, I'm too full of love...

The love started on Wednesday, celebrating my birthday. The girls took me out for lunch to the Brick Lane Curry House Too- the home of the hottest curry dish in North America. No, I didn't try it. I was too chicken. The place was tiny-it seats 14- but the food was delicious. This satisfies one of my 101 in 1001- trying a new restaurant!

After a pretty unproductive day at work, where almost no one (including the team I work with)wished me a Happy Birthday, I left a little early to go home to my family who was waiting to take me to Thai food. Indian and Thai in the same day? This must be Heaven! What made it extra special was that Dad joined us!

Now this wouldn't be such a big deal to most. It was to me since my parents always refused to try anything outside their comfort zone. They knew what they liked. If they didn't think they would like it, they wouldn't try it. This included eating most ethnic food, traveling outside the country and watching popular tv shows. That was okay, though. They stood by their convictions and didn't feel like they were missing anything.

Except dinner with their family on my birthdays.

We would go out for Indian, or Mexican, or Thai and they would meet us back at our house for cake. This time, though, Dad went with us to Frankly Thai (otherwise known as Onzon). AND he tried the spicy, crispy noodles! And lived! I am so proud of him, and honored that he was willing to go out with us. He said it was good, and I'll choose to believe him.

After dinner we had cake back at the house and I opened my presents. A bread maker from Dad (along with three bread mixes,) sock monkey slippers from Zombiegirl, from MR-tickets to Promises, Promises on Broadway, a rain barrel, topsy turvy tomatoes and an Amex Gift Certificate. From Beena- a HUGE bread recipe book. Wonderful gifts from my wonderful family. Thanks you guys!

The best part of this day, though, had to be the fact that I wasn't turning a year older than I thought. Since MR is three months older than me, I automatically start saying I'm the same age he is whenever anyone asks. I must have convinced myself I was already 47 and started saying I was turning 48. It took Soulspeak23 to remind me I'm a moron and I'm a year younger. Hooray! I'm NOT 48!

Avada Kedavra! Just Kidding.

2010-04-19T22:16:00.005-04:00

Continuing on with the Zombiegirl's Harry Potter Party…

Since I wasn't going to be holding a Defense against the Dark Arts class, the kids would have no way of knowing what spells to use with their wands. So I figured I would give each kid a spell, charm and potions handbook to take home. During my lunch hours a few months before the party (um, yeah, lunch hour….), I compiled a list of Spells from The Harry Potter Lexicon using their Encyclopedia of Spells. I added Potions and Potion Ingredients from their Encyclopedia of Potions and from Harry Potter Wiki. In fact, these two websites were invaluable to me- this is where I got most of the details for the party. To the book I added a brief History of Hogwarts and a few pages for notes, a title page and a cover. The cover was printed on the same parchment cardstock I used for the invitations- thanks, Rob! The only problem I had printing the book was the layout. I'm not good with pages and printing on two sides so it took me a few sample printings to get the order right in MS Word and at the printer. Finally, the pages worked and I was ready to assemble. Another lunch hour (snort) to assemble the books and staple. My work graciously let me use their deep throated stapler (bwahahahahaaa!)

Now the kids will have the books (no cost to me, yay!) and a place to take notes. The ONLY thing a Hogwarts student would be using to take notes is a quill pen, right? I need feathers. Michaels had packages of turkey feathers in white and different colors (black for Z-girl) so I picked up enough for everyone. When I got them home, however, I realized the shaft wasn't hollow. Well, it would be hollow if it didn't look like it was vacuum-sucked in. I got a Bic pen insert about an inch up the shaft (OMG this is sounding so dirty….) before it couldn't go any further. CRAP! I remember making quill pens when I was a kid using seagull feathers I found on the beach. I definitely couldn't use these Michaels feathers so I started researching were to by genuine feathers online. I found a feather place on West 38th street in the garment district. I called and they confirmed they had feathers I could use for pens.

I promptly forgot about the quills until the Wednesday before the party. I HAD to get these feathers the next day since I wasn't going in to work on Friday (stove repair man coming). I figured I would stop in the morning when I get in to Penn Station. After a late start at home on Thursday, I got into the city and walked up to 38th Street. I turned THE WRONG WAY (WEST) on 38th Street and didn't realize it until I ran out of buildings, somewhere around 9th. I called the place and they said they were between 6th and 5th. Wonderful! It's the first hot day of the year, I'm totally overdressed, and now I'm four VERY long blocks out of my way. And late. I get to Dersch Feather and am blown away by the amount and beauty of all the feathers they have displayed. My mind does a creative flip trying to think of what I could possible do with all this! John snuck up from behind some boxes and when I told him what I needed, he was thrilled! Seems like he's a Potter Head, too. Had the Hogwart's denim jacket to prove it! But…he couldn't tell me what type of feather was used for the quills. He showed me a few and we settled on the turkey feathers. The shaft was indented in like my other feathers, but a little higher- I would be able to get more pen up the shaft. Twelve dollars later (cash- no debit, no credit- I had to leave to find a cash machine) and I had a handfull of long white quills. Since I'm not versed in the Manhattan bus system, I couldn't figure out how to get uptown on the east side, so since I was late anyway, I walked. From 38th Street to 48th Street. Sweating, carting a bagful of Girl Scout Cookies and feathers. Mama's not a happy one, this morning. I get to work, down a full bottle of water, race like a pee horse and log into my workstation. I scout out the supply cabinet for pens, and come up empty. Crap again! I'm going to have to buy Bics. Thank goodness they're cheap, around $2 for a pack of 10.

When I get home I start trimming the ends of the feathers and pulling out the inserts of the pens. I try to stick the pen in the shaft, but again, it doesn't go all the way in. Now I'm desperate, and start cutting the pens to fit. And getting ink all over my hands, the table, the feathers and the scissors. I try to do the rest in a neat and clean manner, but my hands turn slowly blue-black over the course of this craft. It's okay- I managed to get all the pens in, glued where they're a little loose and standing on end so the ink doesn't run back into the feather.

Now our little Hogwart students are ready to take notes!

F*CK YOU Friday!

2010-04-15T20:40:00.008-04:00

I'm back to taking the bus to the subway. Oh, I have SO much fodder for F*CK YOU Friday! That and this week at work ...

-F*CK YOU to the bus drivers on the N6 route who don't notify the passengers that the bus is a LIMITED. I got on two buses this week that I swear did NOT have the LIMITED sign on the front, but went Limited anyway. One time I was able to get off at the Limited stop before my stop to transfer. One time I ended up at Shopper's Village and MR had to come get me. Thanks, bus drivers. Now I ask before I get on the bus. Even though I shouldn't.

-F*CK YOU to the guy on the bus the other day. You were talking to the soft-spoken rasta guy. Loudly. And every other word out of your mouth was "F…". Now I can somewhat deal with that- I have friends who use the f-bomb like it's an adjective. The kicker with you, guy on the bus, is that you said you "want to be a F*cking English teacher." Really? Did you realize how stupid you sound? Did you realize that everyone around you was uncomfortable and giving you dirty looks? (I was standing right over you guys and saw EVERYONE'S faces.) And no, thanks- I didn't want to sit. Not that you asked. I pray that an opinionated (hated golf, the ballet and opera) boorish miscreant like you never becomes a teacher.

-F*CK YOU to Kate Gosselin. Every day of the year, you deserve a F*CK YOU. Yes, your ex-husband is a slob and a womanizer, but I don't blame him in the least. You are a harpy. If I were married to you, and took the abuse you gave (it was evident on camera- which means it was probably worse off camera) I would skip out of that relationship with the first person that saw me as a human being instead of the doormat you thought I was. You need to step out of the spotlight and be with your kids. As a mom. I'm sure you have enough money now to live comfortably (maybe give up the big house and the hair extensions) so go home. I'm tired of seeing your face.

F*CK YOU to Dancing With The Stars for even CONSIDERING Kate Gosselin to appear on their show. This woman is a manipulator, an attention whore and an absentee mother. She is NOT a star, she's NOT a celebrity. She's painful to watch. A double F*CK YOU to all the sheeple who are still voting for her. Or is it DWTS subterfuge keeping her on the show for the ratings? In my Google search for "I hate Kate Gosselin" I found this website. Awesome job, Snark.

-F*CK YOU to my job. I've had just about enough of your shenanigans.

-F*CK YOU to State Farm for dropping my Dad's homeowners insurance because he lives too close to the water. The company is reducing their coastal business and eliminating all the homes in a flood plain. That's leaving him struggling to find alternative affordable insurance. And the kicker? Because he no longer has homeowners insurance, his car insurance is going up because there's no more discount for multiple policies. Seriously. Well, State Farm? I'm dropping you as my homeowners insurance. You gave me such a hard time when we were robbed, and my mortgage expert, when reviewing for refinance, said my insurance was on the high side anyway. It'll be tough because basically all of the insurance companies I've already spoke to will not cover me because I am within 11 miles of the water. But I will find other insurance then I can cancel with State Farm with a big F*CK YOU!

-F*CK YOU to the people who drag rolling luggage behind them on the subway or through Penn Station. My feet were run over twice this week. Reel them in, people. No need to roll them so far behind you. And be conscious of other people, please. Those suckers are heavy.

-F*CK YOU to our dog, Spencer. Your habits lately are disgusting. Stop eating your poop. We won't kiss you if you do. And stop throwing up on the rug every morning. Now I have to take you to the vet. And who knows...it. may. be. fatal. Bwah ha ha ha!

Now, I was going to give F*CK YOU's to all the factory farms in the US, but becoming a vegetarian is my way of protesting the use of drugs, genetic testing and abuse on these farms. I DO want to give huge SMOOCHES to Chipotle (I am NOT obsessed with Chipotle, really!) Chipotle uses naturally raised pork, chicken and beef. I don't eat their meat burritos, I adore the Vegetarian Burrito Bowl, but I admire their "Food With Integrity" program. I'm not sure if 100% of their meat is naturally raised, but they're on the right track!

It was a tough week, and there was no resolution today, either. That means Monday we start all over again.

At least the weekend is here!

It's My Deadline and I'll Cry if I Want To

2010-04-13T20:28:00.006-04:00

I cried at work today. These tears had nothing to do with a death, or an accident, or a fight with a loved one. These tears were shed out of frustration.

Usually I get angry- spitting mad- when the stupidity of the job gets to me. Today they broke me. I went through a stack of Chipotle napkins (note to self…must get more Chipotle) while hiding behind my cubicle wall so no one could witness my demise. I MUST have been utterly frustrated to actually call someone and cry on their shoulder. I think I scared them. Mamasoo is known as a bitch, not a crybaby.

So, not only was management being reluctant about giving me answers I needed to complete a report I'm working on, I was forced to delay a deadline- twice- because of it. And of course, when I get frazzled, I get sloppy. I get so angry and upset that I don't think things through. The report I had to prepare for this certain manager in order for her to get answers from her manager had to be redone three times. Information passed to me months ago was recanted when brought up, and it skewed the results of the report. At least the CRETIN that scurried over to the manager to inform them I was running the routine wrong (using their information) called and apologized for "getting me in trouble". Then, after correcting the report (not my fault), I neglected to correct a comparison (my fault). A nasty email from the manager informed me of that error. I was already into my fifth napkin by then (they're made without bleach and from 90% post-consumer recycled paper! At least I'm earth-friendly while I cry…) and this just made it worse.

I think I snapped today because lately I've been at everyone's beck and call to produce reports, drawings and proposals for upper management. And we all know upper management needs these reports IMMEDIATELY and extremely dumbed-down because they don't want to have to "think about it", IT being the results of the report.

But when I need something on a deadline- which happens EXACTLY FOUR TIMES A YEAR- no one takes me seriously. I was actually questioned in a meeting with the above-mentioned manager about my deadline date. Management has no idea what my process is, so why am I being questioned? I guess the point of this part of my rant is that I don't question management's deadlines, why should they be questioning mine? As it turns out…it doesn't look like I'll get any answers until the MIDDLE OF THE MONTH anyway!

Okay, I just realized that the middle of the month for me means PMS. That...might explain my reaction to this situation, but seriously, it's still a situation. Do I like being everyone's whore? Do I like being everyone's circus bear- jumping through hoops and juggling balls? My business contacts love me- they've told me so many, many times. My boss has doled out the rare nuggets of praise over the years. But Upper Management? One member of Upper management…has referred to me as "Autocad Lady" and won't speak to me in elevators. Another member has ignored me at the mall. And never respects my deadlines. Am I destined to be a peon the rest of my working career?

I left the answer to that question hanging until I got home. I had two hours of commute to think it over. And the answer is yes…I am destined to be a peon for the rest of my working career. And I'll tell you why.

Even though I've supervised many people, have made crucial decisions and worked on multi-million dollar projects in past jobs and am perfectly capable of being Upper Management it will never happen. Requirement number one to move up the corporate ladder is that you must kiss ass. And the LAST thing I do is kiss ass. I usually tell it like it is, and if I don't like you, you know it.

Requirement number two is you have to attend meetings. I think meetings, especially weekly meetings, are a waste of time. They're usually run by the wrong (read "stupid") people and end up not accomplishing what they've set out to do. Plus being late is a pet-peeve of mine, and it's a requirement that you MUST wait for Upper Management to show up, since they're so busy doing other things they can't possible get to a meeting on time.

Requirement number three is you will probably have to work late. No, let me rephrase that. You'll probably have to stay at work late. Doesn't mean you're necessarily working. You might have taken a LONG lunch hour with the contractor-du-jour and need to catch up. You may be trying to get Lady Gaga tickets for your kids. You may be surfing p0rn sites (even though our company doesn't let you on anything remotely suspicious…) But whatever the reason, you'll be working late. Me? Sorry- I have a family to go home to.

Requirement number four- you have to torture the people under you. After all, they are the people who make you look good. You have to harass them to get you reports that are all ready available if you would have just listened to your underlings when they told you where to look. You have to harass them to print things out for you because it really is too much trouble to find the print button in the document you have open. You have to harass them to make even minor corrections on reports that you've created because you're too busy to make them yourself. Seems the higher you go up the corporate staircase, the less work you actually have to do?

Notice the money didn't even come into consideration. I wouldn't trade my freedom at the job and the freedom at home to make the salary these managers make. I'll stay where I am, thank you. Frustrations and all. As long as I have recycled napkins and a shoulder to cry on.

Happy Borned Day, Zombiegirl!

2010-03-29T21:55:00.006-04:00

I wanted to post this on Zombiegirl's actual birthday, but as soon as we got home, the festivities began...and then life quietly spiraled out of control with the holidays and everything else we had to do. So I'm pretending, two weeks later, that the kid turned 11! Yes, 11. My baby is 11! What the hell? When did my little girl get big? In the blink of an eye, she went from this… to this.

She was the easiest and quickest labor of all the kids. We went into the doctor's office in the morning so he could break my water- I was already nine days overdue. (She was supposed to be born on St. Patrick's day. Good thing she wasn't seeing how much I now dislike St. Patty's day…) Dr. Sherman inserted the "crochet hook" and snagged the amniotic sac. After my water seeped out, he told me to go home and rest up before the contractions started. We went home and right after that the contractions started coming fast! We headed out to Winthrop (and didn't get caught at the railroad crossing like we had been kidding about every time we went to the doctor) and they put me in a labor room right away. All hooked up to the fetal monitor and ready to go!

Labor, like I said, was quick. During one of the last pushes, however, I closed my eyes and felt my nose running. A lot. I thought maybe I had ruptured a vessel or something and my nose was bleeding. The doctor looked up at me and said "Oh my God"- not something you want to hear from your doctor during labor. Seems I had a sinus infection and pushed so hard all this snot came streaming out my nose. Dr. Sherman said he'd never seen that color green before! Lovely. Ignore the snot and push...one last push and Z-girl was born!

MR was allowed to cut the umbilical cord, and the most perfect little girl was handed over to me after her evaluation (which she scored so high on!) I remember thinking that she was so beautiful- except for her nostrils- they were a little squished. It wasn't until we got her home that I realized MR's nostrils are the exact same shape.

Kelsey Cecelia was born at 3:13 p.m. on March 26, 1999. She shares a birthday with my beloved Nana Ethel, who was too sick to realize her great-granddaughter was born on her 91st birthday. The time of her birth was the date MR's little brother passed away- March 13, 40 years ago. She was 8 lbs., 13 oz, the second biggest baby of all the girls, right behind Beena, who weighed in at 9 lbs. She was, and continues to be, a wonderful child.

So, Zombiegirl, I want to say, even though I'm a little late, a little scatterbrained...

Your dad and I think you're awesome. That's why we'd do pretty much anything for you. You have a great personality, a wacky sense of humor, and you're really smart! Your flips and jumps while you were in my belly just proved to us how great an athlete you're turning out to be. Daddy already said you're a better soccer player now than he was at this age. Keep kicking, kid. You'll go so far with this sport!

I love the fact that you have your own style. The colored hair proves that. You don't go in for what all the other girls are into- all the Disney chicks and the princess crap. Sometimes you scare us with your love of blood and gore and Johnny Depp, but that's okay- you don't take it too far or too serious. You never seem to realize that people do a double take when they see you pass by with the latest hair color (red and yellow this month). You don't do it for the shock value. You do it because YOU like it. I have a feeling that your creativity is going to come out more and more and I personally can't wait.

Z-girl- I want you to know that I'll always have a lap that you can snuggle on, even if you think you're too big.

I want you to know that you can always have tickle-time and wrestle-time with me, even if you think I'm lame.

I want you to know that you can always talk to me, even if you think I won't understand.

I want you to know that I'll always be there for you, even if you think I won't.

I'm so very proud of you!

I love you, Piglet!

Wingardium Leviosa!

2010-03-22T19:00:00.012-04:00

We had the Zombiegirl's Harry Potter birthday party this Saturday, but before I go into that, I have to blog about everything leading up to this momentous occasion!

The Wands

You absolutely can not have a Harry Potter Party without wands! That's where all the magic comes from! I gave MR the task of turning the wands on his lathe. He'll carve them and I'll stain and finish them. After turning one wand that took a half an hour and finding out we needed over 30 of them, he threw his hands up in the air and quit on me. I told him I'd do it, then- a few wands a night- and cheerfully took chisel in hand, donned my safety goggles and turned on the lathe. I put chisel to wood in an intricate pattern, sanded it down and shut off the machine. Big deal, I thought to myself. What's he crying over- this was easy!

When the wand stopped spinning I saw that only one side was carved. WTF?

If the lathe is not placed EXACTLY in the center of this 3/8" dowel, it wobbles and you can only catch one side with the chisel. Okay, let's be more careful about placement, then. We went through the whole rigmarole piercing the end, crosscutting it and placing it in the lathe, only to find out I chiseled one side again! Two more sticks went the garbage route. At this rate, I'll have one stick in 30 days.

Or buy MR a smaller lathe. I would have bought another one if I didn't mind spending the extra $200. But I really wanted to keep the price down on this party, so I tearfully clomped up the stairs (hoping MR would feel sorry for me) to research how to make 30 plus wands in one month with little money.

Hallelujah, I found this on Instructables.com!

Okay, I was a little leery. Paper and glue? We're having 30 10 and 11-year olds who will want to practice their spells on each other. MR was worried about giving them ANYTHING pointy less we find an eye on the end of someone's wand. How in the world is paper and glue going to hold up to rigorous wand flicking?

I started rolling the paper as directed and after about 45 minutes, I had 35 wands rolled up tighter than a Cheech and Chong joint. Than a Geisha sushi roll. They were a little sticky from the glue you have to slather on the end to keep them tight, so I put them on a cooling rack to dry and went to bed.

The next night I checked and they were still tight! I had rolled some at different angles so they were wider on the ends, or tapered on both sides. I started each roll with the last of my pack wooden skewers so the roll started tightly. By the way? Buy a package of wooden skewers at the 99 cent store. They have a MULTITUDE of uses- in fact I went through 100 of them without skewering ANYTHING- which is what they are really for! For stability, I left the skewers in the wands, and clipped off the ends where they poked out. In the wider end wands I stuck more skewers, or paper scraps- any thing to fill it in and make it stiffer.

Then I brought out the hot glue gun. I love my hot glue gun. Remember these?

After filling in the ends of all the wands and squeezing glue down into them to make them more solid (solidier?) I started decorating. Spirals, snakes, swirls, drips (that look like blood) and circles. I finished 10 that night.

A few nights later, I finished all decorating all the wands. I was proud to say no two were alike! I took them all outside late that night and placed them all int eh spray booth MR made me. I gave them all a coat of black paint made for plastics because I didn't want acrylic paint to start flaking off the hot glue. About 15 minutes later I turned them and gave the other side a coat. I gathered them up 15 minutes later when they were dry- they looked awesome even all black! The following day was Saturday-Zombiegirl had Kedals over so I put them to work giving them a coat of acrylic paint. We stuck mostly to browns, but we had some blues, greens, reds and yellows. We made a couple pink (for the girlie-girls) and let them dry.

Later that afternoon, Z-girl and I went over the ones that didn't get a full coating, and started antiquing the ones that were okay. We painted on a watered-down black acrylic and really quickly wiped it off. Some of the color paint came off with it, because that paint was water-based too, but it was okay because there was a base coat of black underneath. They started looking really old and chipped where the paint came off. We managed to antique all of them that night the next day we touched up where necessary. I brushed on off-white highlights on some and gold on others. After awhile working with these things I just got giddy because I was so pleased with the outcome! I think they looked amazing- each one was unique- different color, different size, different design!

(I totally didn't shower that day)
The finishing touches were a light spray of clear semigloss to seal the paint and an Ollivander's tag stating what wood the wand was made of, how long it was and which magical ingredient was in the center- phoenix feather, Veela hair, dragon scale…you get the idea.

So for approximately 40 cents for the hot glue, nothing for the paper and paints and $6.78 for the clear spray, I made 32 wands! It took a little while and my dining room table hosted the wands for about a week, but that's okay. Ollivander would have been proud.

Erin Go Blech

2010-03-17T06:50:00.003-04:00

Today is St. Patrick's Day. Woo. Hoo. Note the lack of enthusiasm.

St. Patrick's Day is probably my least favorite "holiday" of the year. Not because I don't like the Irish. I like them just fine. Heck, in my varied pedigree, I've got some Irish in me somewhere. It's just...working in the city on St. Patrick's Day is no fun.

Sure, there's the parade. Lots of people like parades. I am not one of them. Another thing I can safely blame on my parents- my dislike of parades. Being dragged to the Macy's Thanksgiving parade every year as a kid, freezing on a street corner until I couldn't feel my toes and then having my vision blocked by larger people sneaking in front of us. Why did we come early, then? And then the squeeze of the people behind us, pushing and shoving to get a better line of sight. Sorry, not my idea of fun.

Then there's the drinking. Not me, mind you. I have to WORK. I'm talking about the faux Irish people who take off today and tomorrow to literally drink all day. Starting on the commute IN to the city this morning. By the time I go home, the train smells like vomit and those people who had shamrocks prettily painted on their cheeks are bleary-eyed and their faces are smeared with streaks of green goop. They'll be loud and smelly and will pick a fight with you if you shoot them dirty looks for singing "Danny Boy" at the top of their lungs. AND getting the lyrics wrong.

But the real reason I dislike St. Patty's Day?

I hate kelly green. I love hunter green and chartreuse and even mint green. But kelly green turns my stomach and makes me see red.

I have no idea why. I wonder if one of those parade goers when I was a kid wore kelly green and stepped on my frozen toes.

Monday Tidbits

2010-03-15T22:38:00.003-04:00

I swear I saw Almira Gulch pedaling furiously through the air on Saturday. Laughing and pointing and scowling at me as she flew by the window. What kind of weather was that? Seventy-five mile per hour winds, slashing rain, thunder, lighting...we're not in Kansas anymore!
After an already full day of wet haircuts and wet Bridal Shower (Congratulations Jessica and Mervin!) we were tired. I started painting the brick wall for Platform 9-3/4 and Z-girl was on Facebook. We were zoning out fast. I finally dozed for a bit. That's when the tree limbs started raining down from the sky.

Since MR was seafooding it at the Boston Convention Center for the last few days, Zombiegirl and I were left home by ourselves in the middle of the storm. Z-girl was a little nervous about the lights going out so we got dressed and went out around 5:30. Maybe not the smartest idea.

We went to Panera Bread on Jericho Turnpike for dinner. Just the walk (run) from the car to the restaurant soaked us. Hot soup was looking mighty good 'bout now. Zombie-g waited a long time to finally get the potato soup in the bread bowl and it was worth the wait. She finished it in record time, which for her is odd since she's the slowest eater on the planet.

After another quick, wet dash to the car, we drove up Jericho for about a half mile before we were detoured by a LOT of police cars. This was not boding well. I couldn't see a half a block in front of me, and people took this kind of weather as an okay to drive like assholes. We finally made it, after about 45 minutes, to the BJ's on Broad Hollow Road.

Hey- I needed stuff for the party! Yes, I knew it was hurricane-like out. But we would be the only ones in BJ's! It'll be great- no crowds!

Yeah, no.

We weren't the only nuts out in this weather. There were plenty of people there, buying 2-3 items- not even huge orders! It was like BJ's was a sanctuary in the maelstrom of a storm.

Until they announced their system was down, and could only take cash.

I moved up to the front of the line and bought my Cow Tails and Pixie Sticks. Zombiegirl, being the smarty that she is, grabbed one of those boxes in the front of the store to put over her head. I was complimenting her ingenuity when the box of giant Pixie Sticks broke (due to leaning against my wet coat) and went flying all over the exit. Where people were all standing and debating whether or not to go out in the rain to their cars. And, of course, not helping me.

So we once again ran to the car, and drove approximately 100 feet to the movie theater. This mad dash to the theater was totally worth it because WE FINALLY GOT TO SEE ALICE IN WONDERLAND!

Yes, instead of staying home under the covers, we risked power outages went to the movies.

IT.

WAS.

AWESOME.

We're going back to see it again since it was such a colorful, beautiful movie I'm sure we missed alot of stuff.

And because Johnny Depp is in it.

Driving back home was super creepy/ The kid fell asleep and I was listening to Bad Romance (again) and I realized that the whole area of our neighborhood north of Hempstead Turnpike was dark. No streetlights, no house lights-it was like someone painted a dark gray veil over the neighborhood. I tried to wake Z-girl up, but she was zonked. Then I came to the turnpike and the brightness of the lights actually hurt my eyes! Thankfully, we had power when we got home.

Not for long...

F*CK YOU Friday!

2010-03-12T22:29:00.006-05:00

Two weeks since the debut of my F*CK You Friday post! Last week, all went pretty smoothly- I didn't get pissed off enough at anything that would warrant a F*CK YOU rant on my blog. This past week, however…

F*CK YOU to the little girls in my neighborhood who are well on their way to becoming bitches. The one that said the public Middle School my daughter is going to go to is the "poor person's school." (This little twit goes to the local dysfunctional Catholic school.) And the ones that take advantage of the sweet, quiet kid- bossing her around and making her pay for their lunch cookies. And the little girl that looks at you like you have a horrid disease just because you said "Good Morning" to her at the bus stop or at school. So sorry that I'm so beneath your social status that you can't respond back.

Parents, are you honestly aware of how your child acts towards others? Wait. What am I saying? These kids have been raised by dysfunctional, self-absorbed parents. Of course they have no clue their children are on a downward spiral to bullying and socially unacceptable behavior. Much like their parents! Silly me. Social ineptitude begets social ineptitude. I just hope Zombiegirl has a thick skin (unlike her mother) and doesn't let these cretins bother her.

Speaking of Zombiegirl, a big F*CK YOU to hormones! You've taken my lovable, caring little kid and turned her into a pre-teen with a 'tude. I was troubled last week and had it out with her about her lack of respect, but after I've read this article, I plan on dealing with this issue in the future more calmly. She's going through emotions she's never felt before either, so no use both of use losing sleep and tears over it.

F*CK YOU to the horde of small people that took in the matinee last Wednesday. There was one adult to every two kids, yet you still managed to TOTALLY block the entrance to the 1 train and still gave us grief when we (the older lady, the businessman and I) tried to get through, saying "Excuse me" over and over again. Sorry if WE inconvenienced YOU. Next time, send a scout down to purchase your tickets, or pull it over to the side. I'm not going to be so nice next time. Sixty of you milling around holding hands DURING RUSH HOUR does not make for happy commuters.

F*CK YOU to air pressure, my brain, New York, Mother Nature and Excedrin for Migraine. None of you made me very happy Thursday.

F*CK YOU to the assholes that robbed my friend and her family. The stuff you took meant more to my friend Jodi than it would bring in for your drug problem. Karma's a bitch. Look what happened to the asshole that robbed my family. For invading other person's space, you deserve to die.

F*CK YOU to my local ASSociation of Girl Scouts. That debacle you called entertainment last Friday made MR and I wish we never had kids. I understand you're dealing with many, many different troops, and you probably don't know what each troop is going to do until they get up there. But overall? It was disorganized and chaotic. Put someone in as an Emcee to introduce the concept and each troop by number and what they're planning on doing. The Oompa Loompas were cute, but you couldn't understand them when they were announcing the acts (when they finally showed up…) Try putting some microphones on stands in the front so the audience doesn't have to sit and watch a pantomime of a fairy tale. Set some guidelines for the troops- time limits, behavior expectations, prop usage- or better yet- HAVE A FREAKING DRESS REHEARSAL so you can see where your problems lie! I know we're dealing with kids and all the leaders are volunteers, but I shouldn't, as a parent, have to wish those hours of my life back. And fellow parents- your child is NOT cute when they act up and show off onstage. It's obnoxious. And the parents of Zombiegirl's troop? It was obnoxious of you to leave right after our kids were done.

F*CK YOU to soccer coaches if they don't acknowledge their players off the field. You do realize the kids you coach look up to you, right? You and your team are a family away from family. If you met a family member in Stop N Shop, would you say hello? Probably, if you're not SOCIALLY INEPT. So if you meet a member of your team in a social situation- say hello. Ask how they're doing. Be human. The rewards of children loving their coach are FAR better than having them fear and loathe you. You get more with honey than you do with vinegar, honey.

F*CK YOU to America for voting Lilly Scott off American Idol. She has a unique, 1920's style voice. So she doesn't sound or look like Brittney Spears. She has more talent in her left big toe than any of the other girl contestants, with the exception of Crystal Bowersox. And Crystal? Stop looking so smug. You know you're good, granted, but be a little grateful they're still voting for you, 'k?

(Whoa. Did I actually just write that? Me, who hates all network television and reality shows in general? Who have I become??? Darn you, Simon Cowell!)

F*CK YOU to my company's benefits department. You overcharged my 1099 form around $8,000 more than what my 401K was actually. You sent me to SEVEN different departments this week claiming it wasn't you- that tax forms are not your issue. But YOU sent the amount out! Where's that extra eight grand? And who's going to fix my form so I can give it to my sweet accountant so he can finish my taxes?

Wow. I'm not bitter, I swear! I just can't stand the stupidity and injustice and ignorance around me. As I typed these out, the funny thing is, there are specific links to all the different FU's I've posted. Common threads that run through these posts. Maybe it's a handful of people that set me off? Maybe. All the more reason to bring the people that I love and respect tighter around me.

Tell me what set you off this week. Tell me I'm not overly sensitive. Tell me who you want to send a F*CK YOU to! You'll feel so much better, so much lighter when you get that all off your chest!

On a happy note, HIGH FIVE to the conductor on the LIRR that let me slide on the fare going home yesterday. You said I looked horrible (I did- I had a migraine) so I didn't have to worry about getting home. Thanks! You're a peach.

HIGH FIVE to the neighborhood High School on their production of Les Miserables. You're all very talented. It was just a tad too long. Sorry I kept yawning. It wasn't you. Really.

Squirrelvision- Now in IMAX

2010-03-12T06:31:00.006-05:00

I think bed is the best thing in the world. I love sliding into bed at night, curling up in my blankets and quilt. I love going back to bed after my shower, my spot still slightly warm from when i left. After snuggling back to bed in the morning (must be why I'm always late to work) I'd either doze off or gaze out my bedroom window, thinking of the gazillion things I have to do.

A few winters ago, I spotted this in the tree growing in the creek behind our house:

Can you see the "5"?

Then, at the beginning of this winter, I spotted this:

It's an upside-down (and maybe backwards) "4". Okay, it's a stretch. But it's clear to me...

Then a few months ago, I saw this:

It's an "8". Put together, I see this in the tree every morning. The day I found the "8", I played "584" in Lotto that day.

I didn't win. Of course not.

The best thing about gazing out the window at this tree is the entertainment. Three out of the four seasons I can watch the squirrels jumping from limb to limb. If they're mating, it's twice the fun (not what you're thinking...get your minds out of the gutters!) When it's mating season, they chase each other and wrestle and fall through the air only to catch the branches on the way down, landing on their little paws.

I have blinds on my window that go up from the bottom or down from the top. We keep the back blind on the bottom and pull it up so the people in the parking lot of the pool can't see me in my naked glory when I get dressed. The other day while I was lounging in bed putting off getting up, MR dropped the blinds all the way down and I was able to watch the squirrel show in IMAX. Awesome!

What's outside your window? Send a picture, I'll post it.

Hermione, Can I Borrow Your Time-Turner, Please?

2010-03-10T21:27:00.002-05:00

Holy Hedwig! I apologize, Blogosphere. I've been so busy eating, sleeping, shopping and planning Harry Potter shit I haven't had time to do much else. My house is furry around the edges (where's my Vacuum Bitch, aka MR?) and the laundry is piling up. If Zombiegirl hadn't given up fast food for Lent (my good little Lutheran…) we'd be eating out every day this past week. I'm starting to cast spells on the people around me, and alas, they're not working.
So to take you all down the road to the Harry Potter hell I've been in, let me tell you what I've been doing.

Zombiegirl's birthday is coming up. She's going to be 11. And I've told her this is the last big party I'm throwing her. From here on in, we'll do the movie thing with a couple of friends, or a light sleepover, or a trip to the city with a BFF or two. Middle school is going to be hard enough with all the cattiness and the backstabbing. I'm not going to add to that mess with "who-invites-who-to-whose-birthday-party" crap. From here on in, birthday's are on the down-low. We're going to pick and choose whose parties she goes to based on who's throwing it and where they're held. If I deem them a waste of time due to the location or the child, she's not attending. We'll plan something else to do instead. I want her to be friendly with everyone, but some of the parties she's invited to, well, the friendship seems superficial. I want her to have meaningful friendships, not ones based on presents. Or how many kids are invited to the "popular" girl's party.

When I asked Z-girl what kind of party she wanted, she thought for 10 seconds and said "Harry Potter". Yes, she was reading the book at the time.

Now, I thought last year's party was the bomb. I didn't think anything could top that. A photo scavenger hunt in the mall, then cookie decorating and candy selection at Dylan's Candy Bar! That was probably the best party a kid could want. They all had a blast and went home with tons of sweets and a huge sugar high that day. What could I do to top that? If you know me, you know that I'm a crazed party planner. It's what I used to do as a side job. Planning kids parties, then later planning adult parties. I hate going to an actual party- for me, it's all about the details and the planning stage. Ask my older kids about their childhood parties. I threw them craft parties, Pocohantas parties, a Fashion Show, a zoo scavenger hunt, a star-filled Sweet Sixteen and a Disney Graduation Party. Different and unique. Without any help from the Web, either. I planned everything by myself and each and every one of them (except maybe the craft party…only one kid showed up…) was a huge success. I live for a party, at least to plan it. And dammit, I was determined this was going to be a good one.

I started researching Harry Potter parties on the Interwebs. And I was totally surprised at how much info there is out there. And how many geeks love Harry Potter enough to throw huge, intricate parties!

So I agreed (being a Harry Potter geek myself) and started planning.

Zombiegirl has 95% control over this party. Almost every idea has to be run past her first. I'm saving 5% of the control to surprise the kid- I want her to feel the Harry Potter magic as well.

I'm posting each piece of the party as a separate blog post labelled HPP. I'm also going to link my sources of inspiration because I couldn't have even STARTED thinking about this without these talented people's posts and websites.

THE INVITATIONS

Now that all the invites have been delivered, I can post how I created them.

I'm blessed with a person like Rob who can get me any type of paper I need. I'm also blessed with the freedom to do stuff at work without too many prying eyes. I took the parchment that Rob got me and typed up the invite in Word almost verbatim from "The Sorcerer's Stone". Since we're having the party at St. Andrew's, I included directions to the social hall, aka King's Cross Station.

Since I only had 8.5" x 11" parchment to make the envelopes, I had to fold the invites to fit. A little manuevering in Word let me print the addresses before I cut and folded the sheets to fit around the invites.

Since these invites have to been delivered by "owl post" I wanted to put something in the post mark spot besides at stamp. And since I'm trying to make this as low-budget as possible, I didn't want to go out and buy an owl stamp. So I researched rubber owl stamps on the Web and found a suitable picture. I looked around my office for a rubber eraser, which is pretty hard since I don't actually draft plans anymore (I did finally find one in the back of my drafting table) and copied the owl onto the eraser. I spent the next hour cutting the eraser out to make the owl in relief. I rubbed a red sharpie marker over it and stamped the invite. I was so excited about the result I giggled all the way into Soulspeak and Ruddyna's office to show them. They must think I'm a freak...

More carving of the eraser produced a backwards "Owl Post" so I had to redo it and then stamped it under the owl. "Owl Post" indeed!

These invites needed one more touch- the wax seal on the back. Again, I didn't want to spend $8 on wax and an "H" seal at Michael's, so back to Google. I found this very inventive website. Using my hot glue gun, a block of frozen mozzarella cheese, three buttons from Mom's collection and some black spray paint I created the "wax" seal for the back.

We drove Zombiegirl around a few nights to deliver them. She was stealthy and quiet when sneaking up on the houses, dropping the invitations off and running away. She hand delivered them to her whole soccer team. Thirty-four invitations in total.

We are on our way. I need a Butterbear...

Monday Tidbits on Tuesday

2010-03-02T22:00:00.002-05:00

I can't believe how fast time flies. This weekend marked the year anniversary of Mom's passing. She technically passed away on February 27, 2009, at 11:45 pm, but she wasn't declared gone until the Hospice nurse got there at around three o'clock in the morning of the 28th. I'm amazed that the year went by so fast. Dad has been awesome this past year- he's had his sad moments, but he's coping. Very well. I'm so relieved.

After Friday's "Snurricaine" turned into a "Snore-iccaine", we were pretty sure we would be able to follow through with our plans to remember Mom. I took off work on Friday due to the weather, so I was able to get done everything I needed to get done (sewing little man clothes- more on that later) and be able to devote all day Saturday to our trip. We honored Mom by going down to Atlantic City.

What better place to remember Mom? What better place to cheer Dad up…especially after he won over $600 at Caesar's! Yeah, he's cheery now. Mom definitely smiled on him. We played the two slot machines they always played and he was describing how they would nudge each other when they hit. He turned around from elbowing me and he had hit the jackpot- 2,500 quarters! After he did his happy dance, and threw me a few $20's to keep going, we left and switched off with MR and Zombiegirl.

Thanks, Mom. You dissed me and your son-in-law. But you made Dad happy.

I wanted to post this on Monday, but the pain I was in prevented me from doing much more than moaning on the couch begging MR to rub my back with Bengay. I'm not sure what I did to my back, but I'm pretty sure it's not muscular. I need to see the chiropractor, stat.

Oh, btw. If you give up candy for Lent, do NOT bring your child to It'Sugar. It's a playground for kids, a Willy Wonka type of heaven. I was in HELL.

Freaky Friday (and a New Friday Theme)

2010-02-26T19:53:00.005-05:00

I've been pretty busy at work lately, so I haven't had much time to do more than quickly visit my blogroll everyday. I found some great games a few weeks ago and sent them to myself to post for Freaky Friday.

Gluey is a cute blobby kind of game where you have to eliminate the blobs with eyes. Pick the biggest blobs for the most points.

Factory Balls is a great sequence game. Figure out the steps to create the sample ball in your factory.

WereBox is another one of those physics games involving boxes and balls. Change the boxes into balls and vice versa to remove the red balls from the screen.

Now-during this past week I've run across some people and situations that were screaming for a big F*CK YOU! Not that I would ever scream that in public...but to get it off my chest and move on, I've decided to share my Freaky Fridays. Introducing:

F*CK YOU FRIDAYS!

Here goes:

A big F*CK YOU to the Trailways bus that zoomed up 50th street yesterday and splashed me and that cute touristy couple with icy slush. I was sloshed all down my right side and had to ride all the way home wet.
F*CK YOU to the traffic cop that gave my Dad a $115 ticket as he was pulling away in MY car after we dropped off the Girl Scout cookies at my office loading dock. He was in GEAR for crying out loud! Planning on moving! What ever happened to "a warning?"
F*CK YOU to the people who man the phones at EZ Pass. Do you people have any education whatsoever? You all sound like drug addicts. Speak clearly. You're customer service- try to make a good impression. After three phone calls, I've given up trying to get help. I'll have to make time to go into the service center, since you people clearly haven't got a clue and no desire to help.
F*CK YOU to my cookie helper. I know you sell alot of cookies for Zombiegirl and I do let you slide on your cookie order. BUT you take advantage of my good will and I KNOW you gypped me out of money. Offer a little harder to pay for your cookies, huh? And next year- I'm handling all the money. I know you like to take all the credit for the sales, but I'm going broke covering for you all these years. This is the last straw.
F*CK YOU to Bank of America for calling for Obdurate Daughter at all hours of the day. It's not because there's anything wrong with her account- you just want to sign her up for other services. Five-thirty in the morning and nine o'clock at night is not acceptable.
F*CK YOU to Facebook, who won't let me change my email address because I already have an account linked to that address. I cancelled that account but it seems that you never really leave Facebook- it will be in the system until I "change my mind." So now I have three accounts all linked to different emails. If you're my friend on anything other than "SUE R..." I don't check those accounts anymore. Come find me.

Okay, I feel better! Knowing my temperment, I'll be posting more F*CK YOU FRIDAYS than Freaky Fridays!

Riding the Roller Coaster with Marlboro Man

2010-02-23T21:04:00.003-05:00

Oh, it’s been so long since I’ve blogged. My emotions have been riding this roller coaster, which is mostly engineered of twisting downhill turns and long plunging dives. These past few weeks have been a rackety ride with double dips and zero-g rolls. I didn’t want anyone buy a ticket to my mental ride. Refunds would have been requested.

I admit, a lot of my emotional turmoil could be attributed to PMS. Hating on my friends, exasperation with my family, no patience with work or the commute or the stupidity of life. Well, I’ve bled and I’m feeling better. Better, but still sad.

We lost J.

John Garino- musician, researcher, Big Bottom, grizzly bear, Indian Food lover, Groomsman, Guinness drinker, bucket-game player, doctoral student and good friend- passed away February 13th. It was already a sad day because it was my Mom’s first birthday in Heaven. J went to sleep on Thursday and never woke up.

No one got to say good-bye.

Being friends with J was like being in an exclusive club that everyone belonged to. He always made you feel like you were the funniest, smartest, most talented person he knew. Yet he travelled in such wide circles of life making friends wherever he went. You could go a long time not talking to J but the next time you saw him was like coming home. You fell into such an easy patter with him because he was so easy to talk to.

He was the smartest person you never realized you knew.

The guy playing bass in a punk band. The guy at the bar having a little too much to drink. The guy smoking a butt covered with tattoos. The guy at the Yankee game yelling at the umpire. You wouldn’t think this guy would be as brilliant as J was. Getting first his BS in History, then his Master’s in Library Science while working IT at St. John's University. Deciding to pursue his PhD so he could teach. He was at home in the classroom as well as the stage. But did he show off his smarts? Was he obnoxious about how much he knew? Nope. Most people upon meeting J never realized how intelligent he was. Sure, he would debate baseball, religion, music and politics with you. But you never came out of an argument mad or exasperated at him. He would show up at your door with home-brewed beer or his mom's Irish Soda Bread and never looked for praise. He was unassuming to a fault.

There’s a special place in my heart for J. He was practically the only one of MR’s friends I met when I first started going with MR that didn’t make me feel uncomfortable because I had two kids. He made me feel at home with the guys (we were on the dart team) and when he came out to the beach house, he played endlessly with the kids- humoring them in their made up games. He coined the persona I use to this day- Mamasoo, bad spelling and all, because I was the one with the kids. And it never bothered him like it bothered so many of MR’s other friends and family members. I will always be grateful to him for that.

It’s hard to accept that he’s gone from our lives. What will happen to Norman Bates and the Showerheads? I listen to his “Rock of J Bralter” CD over and over, appreciating more and more what a great musician he was.

Yes, my life is dimmer now that he’s not here. But living “The J-way”by accepting everyone (faults and all), living life to it’s fullest and learning new things will definitely make my life brighter. It’ll be hard, but I’m really going to try. I wonder if Guinness helps?

Rest in Heavenly Peace, J. You'll be missed.

If At FIrst You Don't Succeed...Call It Something Else.

2010-02-01T06:19:00.014-05:00

Finally. A blog post. Sorry, but it was a long, busy week. And too much to think about. And too many demons to wrestle...so...

Before I worked for The Bank, I worked for the City of New York for eight years as a Project Architect. The learning opportunities at the Housing Preservation and Development were great- not only did I get to design and build housing for lower income families, I learned the fine art of running a business out of a cubicle.

ALL the city workers do it...

I learned the tools of my trade at this job- Autocad. I also learned that not all architects are created equal. Especially if you're male. If you're male, you are naturally a much higher caliber individual. And smarter.

Of COURSEyou are...

But the most important lesson I learned while working for HPD was one my future husband taught me. He taught me to love different ethnic foods. Lunches at Indian restaurants. Dinners in Chinatown for Thai. Snacks at out-of-the-way Pakistani stands. He introduced me to spicy foods and now it's one more thing I'm indebted to him for.

Working for the City was like working in the United Nations. I worked elbow to elbow with every nationality. And with those nationalities came the food.

Oh, yes. Bharti's vegetarian lunches. Mike's hummus.. Lily's scallion pancakes. Ann's spicy curdled milk.

Different folks, different foods. I tried all of them and loved it all.

One day, we had a brainstorm. Instead of going out one day, let's all bring in something from home for a potluck. I always dreaded being on the supply side of a potluck- especially an ethnic one. This American white girl has no ethnic history. White girl usually brought cornbread. Or salad. I think on the day of the HPD potluck I brought in a huge bowl of lettuce. Oh so boring.

But on the receiving end? I was in heaven. All the homemade Russian, Greek, Polish, Indian, Middle Eastern, Jamaican, Italian, Chinese, Guyanese food...and salad...was wonderful. We ate and picked all afternoon. It was the first time I tried dishes like hummus, babaganoush, tabouli, saag paneer and kielbasa. My favorite? Our Egyptian engineer's wife's babaganoush. I remember taking the whole bowl back to my desk after lunch to nosh on with the toasted pita points. Heaven!

So I was craving this eggplant dish the other day and decided to document making it. Hey-all the big name bloggers are all doing it...so I figured I'd try my first photo recipe. Since I cleaned the fridge and threw out the tahini, I needed a recipe that didn't include it. I remember Mike's babaganoush to be tahini free, too, so I found the recipe here:

Babaganoush

2 eggplants
2 tbsp lemon juice
5 cloves minced garlic, preferably roasted
1 tsp onion powder
1/4 tsp cumin (the stuff in the blue bowl)
1/2 tsp parsley

Pre-heat oven to 400 degrees.
Slice eggplants in half and pierce with a fork in several places.

Roast for about 45 minutes, or until soft. Allow to cool slightly, then scoop out inside of eggplant, leaving skin behind. In a blender or food processor, process eggplant with remaining ingredients until smooth.

Easy, huh? One would think. I split the recipe in half and used the other eggplant to make this:

Chili Lime Babaganoush

2 medium eggplants
3 cloves garlic
2 tbsp tahini
2 tbsp olive oil
2 tbsp lime juice
1 tsp chili powder
1/4 tsp salt
1/2 tsp cumin

Slice eggplant in half, and roast in 400 degree oven for approximately 45 minutes, or until soft.
Allow to cool slightly, then scoop out inside of eggplant, leaving skin behind.
In a blender or food processor, combine eggplant and remaining ingredients until smooth.

I don't know if I processed the eggplant mess too much, but it didn't have the consistency I've come to know as babaganoush. It came out more like a tapanade. Spreadable. Creamy. Not "ganoushy" at all. Or maybe too "ganoushy?"

So I call it eggplant tapanade. I've been spreading it on wraps and stuffing the wraps with baby spinach and sprinkling dried cranberries on top. Oooh, what a great tapanade. So spreadable! Delicious! Perfect for my new low-carb diet.

Yeah, that's not raspberry jam and caramel sauce. It's my wonderful new tapanade/babaganoush fail.
I'll keep trying to perfect not only the babaganoush, but also my picture taking.

Because I like typing the word BABAGANOUSH!

It's Too Bad That Stupidity Isn't Painful*

2010-01-24T22:55:00.002-05:00

Ah, if only stupid was painful. Not too painful, mind you. Just a little jolt- one milliampere- to let the stupid person know what they did was pretty damn dumb. We would learn pretty quick not to act like asses. Or would we?

There's been a lot of stupid going around these last few weeks. The back of my hand itched to smack someone. If only I had a cattle prod...

I had every intention of pointing out on this blog the dumb-ass crap I've witnessed lately. I've written this post over and over, then finally saved it under another title.

I decided not to post it.

Feelings would have been hurt. Blogs I don't like would have been given more traffic, and I'll be damned if I give these stupid mommybloggers my four reader's clicks. People would have dropped me as friends on Facebook.

So I'm keeping these feelings to myself. UNLIKE those stupid mommybloggers, I won't share some very personal feelings with the Interwebs. I wrote it down- I can read it in my posting list- and I'm feeling much better that I got it off my chest.

So I cancelled that order for the cattle prod with Tractor Supply. Good thing, too. Shipping was way too much!

Speaking of feeling better, this cold/flu/sore throat knocked me on my ass the past four days. I feel foolish getting sick. I haven't been sick like this in a few years, and I've been bragging about that. It's hard to stay healthy- even with all the precautions I take- when a sick Zombiegirl sneezes right in your face while you're tickling her.

I'm better now. Physically and emotionally.

We could always blame those emotions on....MENOPAUSE!

[snort]

*The title of this post is actually a quote by Anton LaVey. He's the founder of the Church of Satan. I don't agree with his religious views, but I definitely agree with his view on stupidity.

Trouble on the 5:04

2010-01-17T19:30:00.009-05:00

I know, I know. It's been a few days since I posted. I can't get my thoughts together to write a cohesive post. I'm mad and now I'm sick. I've re-written this post twice already.

When I take the LIRR home (which has been pretty much every day the last few days) I usually take the 5:01 to Ronkonkoma. I don't live on the Ronkonkoma line, but that train is pretty much empty every day, plus it leaves three minutes before the 5:04 so I can get out of Dodge faster. My connecting train is usually at Jamaica when I get there so I don't have to wait outside or battle the hordes on the 5:04 to get in to get a seat.

The only thing I don't like about the 5:01 is when I get to Jamaica and the doors open the people waiting don't let you off. I've shouldered plenty of people out of the way so I can get off the train. I've exchanged words with a few people crowding to get on this virtually empty train. Whatever. I get my knocks in- do you know how heavy Stephen King's new book is? Hidden in my bag, it's a formidable weapon.

Once I get on the 5:04, it's about 25 minutes to my stop. Sometimes, it's the longest 25 minutes of my life. Especially if one of my favorite characters is on board that day.

Character #1- Smelly Lady. This heavy lady is very nice- I've heard her speaking to other people on the train, but one has to hold one's breath when passing her. She doesn't smell like unwashed flesh, or body odor but like sweetly rotting organic matter. Like a compost heap. She looks clean but she smells dirty. Earthy dirty. I can't describe it- I just know I feel like gagging when I walk past her. So I try not to.

Character #2- The Stalker. I'm not alone when I say Dan is disgusting. I met him previously when I had the party place- he came to a kosher party with his daughters. We talked, realizing we both took the same train home. I would like to say that he stares at me because I made such an impression on him when we met that day, but no. I've caught him staring at other women on the train. With his hand down his pants. One time vigorously rubbing. Yeah, I know. Gross.

He's slick about it, too. Once he finishes his card game with the other commuters, he'll stand in the doorways or in seats facing the me and use the reflections in the windows to check me out. I've woken up with him standing in the doorway peeking out behind the advertising signs. Staring at me. One time Diane, a fellow commuter and friend of mine, confronted him and told him he had to stop gawking at the pretty girls* riding the train. He feigned ignorance and went on his merry way. To stalk me and stare at me. Diane and I compared notes the next morning.

MR sees him walking to home when the train leaves and swears he's going to follow him home or run him over. I haven't seen him in a week or so (thank goodness) so I guess he's safe. For now. Bwahahaha!

Character #3- The Bombay Nightingale. Lordy. When I see this Indian lady on the train, I know now not to sit in front of her. She rides the train from Brooklyn and she's totally plugged into her MP3. And she sings. Indian music. Not the whole song, but the most annoying parts. And she's LOUD! The other day she kept bursting into song and startling the whole car. I made eye-contact with several of the other riders and they were as pissed off as I was. Granted, I did have a splitting headache so that didn't help.

As the train neared my stop, I got up and went to stand in the door area. Another woman joined me and we rolled our eyes together whenever the Nightingale screeched another song. We exchanged "pleasantries" about her singing and rolled our eyes again when she joined us in the door area. I shot her a really dirty look and she had the NERVE to ask what's my problem?

Oh, no. You didn't.

I told her that her singing was disruptive to EVERYONE in the car and that she was singing for the whole ride. "Am I disturbing you?", she asked really snottily.

D'uh.

"Yes, you were. You were disturbing everyone." At this point the other woman agrees with me.

"Oh, now you're disturbing me. Why are you disturbing me. I don't disturb anyone."

W. T. F. Okay, lady. you're nuts.

She followed the other woman off the train complaining the whole time that she's not disturbing anyone and that we're the ones disturbing everyone. When we (the nice lady and I) crossed paths at the bottom of the station platform, I told her some people just don't get it.

So now I have to contend with crazy singing lady when I ride the 5:04.

I think I'll start taking the bus home. I may be the only one that speaks English on that ride, but at least no one breaks into song.

*Clarification...I am certainly not pretty, and certainly not the only woman this guy stalks.

Faith is Restored

2010-01-16T13:16:00.006-05:00

I told MR yesterday that I ran out of things to post about on this blog. I thought at that time that I was fresh out of ideas, my brain spent. I had no new ideas, and nothing interesting has happened to me. My life, she's boring.

Then I remembered where we were. We all took the day off to go see the latest addition to our family- little Hannah Kate, born to Paula and Ray, MR's sister and her husband. We were all in the car driving up to Putnam with a three-foot hero and baby gifts in the back.

The cuteness! All six pounds of her! She looks a little like her big brother Ray, and a little like her older sister Lily. But on a much smaller scale. She was so small her sleeper was swimming on her. Her little arm got swallowed up in all the soft, pink folds of her clothes and her blanket. We dug around for awhile but still didn't find her hands and feet. We didn't want to wake her just to see her toes.

Paula and Ray- they know how to make gorgeous kids.

So I'm Aunt Soo to the 4th.

So writing about my gorgeous little niece, the dam burst and now I have a bunch of things to blog about! Stay tuned for:

The stupidity of humans
Why I'm giving up Facebook
My first recipe- with pictures!
Synchronicity
Croque-en-bouche
Trouble on the 5:04
My take on Avatar
My new Droid
Squirrel Vision- now in IMAX

There. I'm committed. Same bat time, same bat channel.

Brrrrrr

2010-01-13T21:23:00.001-05:00

Sorry for the vulgarity, people but-

I hate fucking winter.

Probably because it hates me.

I work in midtown Manhattan. I walk six blocks from the train station to my buildings. By the time I get to my office, my already ruddy cheeks are stinging, my sensitive eyes are streaming tears and the poor circulation in my toes are making them even colder.

This morning this skinny bitch in high heels, short skirt and coat open traipses past me crossing Madison Avenue. We walk a full block and a half together- her in front, me observing behind. She has on no hat, no gloves, no scarf and…NO PANTYHOSE. She looks like she stepped out of a Vogue ad.

WTF?

My nose is red and I can't see straight because my eyes are watery. I'm bundled up in my kitty hat, gloves, scarf and coat. I have tights on under my pants. I'm wearing two pairs of socks. It's 2:17 pm and I'm still cold.

Am I not wearing the right winter gear? With all my natural padding, I should be as warm as a polar bear. But no, I'm shivering all day long.

How do people in Fargo, North Dakota deal with this? Why on earth would one live in Minnesota? I heard two people on the elevator this morning saying Boston was 10 times worse with the wind coming in from the ocean. Why would you live there? Why am I still living in frosty New York?

I didn't always hate winter. I loved to ski when I was younger and I was always out making snowmen and having snowball fights with my friends. And back then we didn't have ski gloves or Thinsulate. We had hand knit mittens that stretched out when they got wet and the snow formed a crust between your fingers because of the wool. I wore jeans with thermal long johns and socks and sneakers. Or rubber boots that had to be put over your shoes with bread bags so they would slip on easier. Fleece and Under Armour were a thing of the future. Did I complain about the cold back then? Probably, but it certainly didn't affect me like it does now.

Maybe it's MENOPAUSE!

Maybe it's seriously time to look into moving. Z-girl would adapt, especially if we threw in a pool. Or a pony. Even a bigger room.

Either that or I invest in some Under Armour.

It's too freaking cold.

Monday Tidbits

2010-01-11T10:26:00.005-05:00

Sorry for the filler post of videos. I was due anyway. They were clogging up My Favorites. Last week was such a busy week. Zombiegirl had three rehearsals for Her All-County Concert, Dad came over for dinner, we got two tickets, MR came in to the city to pick up chairs, Paula had a baby, I de-Christmased the house, I started painting the molding upstairs, I got sick twice and….

Wait- back up. What did I just say?

Dad came over for dinner? Yes, yes he did. We went out for Burger Bite. I really like that place. A lot of thought went into this tiny little restaurant that replaced our beloved Rita's Italian Ices. From the "build your own burger" to the funny "Screw You" sign to the little sticker on the umbrella stand that says "Umbrella ella ella." Unfortunately I did get a little sick from the veggie burger. Yes, you CAN under cook a veggie burger. It was really mushy. One strike, Burger Bite!

Oh. You didn't want to hear about dinner. Okay. So yes, I did de-Christmas the house. And just in time, too. The side of the tree facing the radiator was brown and gross. I organized the Christmas trunk, too (the trunk I keep in the basement with all the decorations in it) and got rid of a lot of the decorations we didn't like or never put out. I was able to put all my Christmas Fiestaware in the trunk, freeing up more room in the liquor cabinet for more booze! Yay! Now if we could just get the mirror marker decorations Z-girl drew off the mirror.

Um, you didn't want to hear about Christmas either? What? The molding? No? Must be the All-County Concert then.

When Zombie-g got picked for All-County for playing the flute, we were ecstatic! She was the only person selected from her whole band! Mohammed was selected from orchestra, and Hailey D., Lauren, Ciara, Dana and Nicole were selected for Chorus. There were three 3-hour rehearsals last week and unfortunately, she had to miss the soccer tourney for the last practice. The concert was yesterday. MR, Beena and myself went- with trepidation, because you know how these sound. They are in Fifth Grade, after all.

The Nassau Music Educator's Association puts together this concert every year with the top students in the school districts throughout Nassau County. The students have to be recommended by their school's music teacher. There are five divisions broken down by age group, with Fifth Grade being the first. And that Division was so big they had to further break it down into two divisions- East and West. It's held at the Tilles Center at CW Post every year for two weekends- it's all very professionally run.

Well, shoot me in the foot, were we surprised! They were AWESOME! You'd never guess they've only been playing for really only one year! We totally enjoyed the concert, and I told Z-girl I want to go to this concert every year for the next seven years. I want her picked every year…wherever she goes to High School!

Okay, okay. We got new chairs for the living room. We're getting rid of the Nana Frances couch- the one Spencer sleeps on. He'll either have to act like a dog and sleep on the "sleepy" (dog bed) or he can use one of the chairs. They've already been tested by both dogs, and meet their high standard of approval. Thank you, UBS. I don't know why Ms. Faye got so paranoid about us picking them up- they were going to be thrown away anyways. Geez.

No? Not what you're waiting to hear about? You want to hear about the tickets, don't you.
Yes, both MR and I got tickets. Me for running a red light (damn cameras) and MR for "blocking the box." And both were pretty bogus, if you ask me.

My red light running occurred on Old Country Road going into the Roosevelt Field Mall the night we saw Santa. I made a right on red (legal everywhere except NYC) and we saw a flash. According to Beena, I panicked. I asked her if I ran a red light and she concurred that I didn't. According to Nassau County Police, I did. The notice and the fine for $50 came three weeks later. I paid it, then realized I should have fought it. We drove by the scene of the crime and there was a turning lane (I was in it) and NO sign prohibiting a right on red. Stupid me. I should fight authority more often.

MR got a ticket for blocking the box in NYC the day he came to pick up the chairs. He stood there for two light changes and nothing in front of him moved. He moved up on the third green light to let the people behind him make their turns and he got caught by the cop standing on the corner. Doing nothing. Not directing traffic- nothing. She waved him over and slapped him with a $115 ticket. He argued and asked what he was supposed to do? Make a right turn, she said. He didn't WANT to turn- why wasn't she handing out tickets on the next block for blocking traffic? Because he was an easy catch, and easy mark. She didn't want to lug her fat ass up the block to investigate what was wrong. MR was furious! I won't post his rants because he might on his blog. Needless to say, we're not very happy with police these days. Case in point- we saw a cop driving while on a cell phone this very morning. Are they there for our protection? Probably not. I think they're around just to drum up revenue.

And….[drumroll] I became an aunt again! My sister-in-law Paula and Ray had their fourth child, baby Hanna Kate! She weighed in at 6lbs., 1/2 oz. Mom and baby are doing great. Big brother Raymond and big sisters Sammy and Lily have to wait until she comes home to see her. We're going up this week to visit, since Zombiegirl won't be able to get into the hospital either. I can't wait to hold this little peanut in my arms! If I get sick between now and then I'll scream!

Popping the vitamins and sucking down the Neti pot!

So that was my week.. Mostly good things, which we need right now!

The Yellow Goat I Ate

2010-01-07T12:00:00.002-05:00

My Favorites are getting full again, so I'm cleaning out. Here are some of our favorite videos:

Of course, anything animated by MR and Jim is a fave...

Another one by MR and Jim...

Queen and little water guys rock!

Another one from Evian...

Our house LOVES Parry Grip...

An oldie but annoying video...

(Love those badgers....0

I love the video itself, too, not just the "translation!"

Another "translation" - Zombiegirl will be sitting on the couch and suddenly blurt out some of the lyrics to this video. Totally random.

Dumbledoe!

And we quote from this one ALOT.

Out With The Old, In With The New

2010-01-05T22:02:00.008-05:00

Wow. I am not alone. It's comforting in a way, that tons of peeps share my feelings that 2009 sucked ass. Big time.

The blogging world concurs.

While waiting for my routines to run at work, I visited a few of my favorite blogs, as well as a few of my least favorite. I scouted around the Interwebs looking for new voices, new laughs, new snark. I found a few keepers, some I want to explore more. I found a few space wasters, and no, I won't link and drive traffic to them- they really don't deserve it.

But a common theme running through most of them the last few days? That many of them were ready to move on to bright, shiny new 2010.

And I'm joining that throng that wanted to throw 2009 to the curb. And kick it while it's down.

So I already did my whiny, crybaby post about how melancholy I was going into the new year. I sulked on Sunday (maybe it was the bourbon, maybe it was MENOPAUSE!)

But after awhile I realized that a lot of good came out of the sadness and insanity of 2009. Such as...

I've forged a closer bond to Dad. Since it was him and Mom for so long, it was hard to get close to one or the other. Dad relies on certain stuff for me (computer crap and recipes) and we've made a point to get together often- not just for holidays.

My layoff from the bank resulted in getting my debts paid off.

The $13,000 screw up resulted in getting household projects started as well providing us a very nice Christmas.

I got a tattoo.

My current consulting job with the bank resulted in a very nice bonus and a raise. Working directly for the bank got me diddly at bonus time the past few years, so this year was a nice surprise.

I started going to the gym and haven't gained any weight since August. Plus my bingo wings are firming up.

The family crisis back in April has brought the rest of us a little closer to each other. We appreciate each other more.

I've found some true blue friends who stuck with me through crisis. I've made a bunch of new friends this past year. I'm no longer wasting time on one- sided relationships.

Most importantly, I've explored my Inner Pieces inside and out and have come to the conclusion that although I have things in my life I'd like to change, I'm basically happy. That suckish year is behind me, and I only have good things (and night sweats) to look forward to.

And to finish what I've started, here's the rest of the cookie recipes from the cookie party!

Irene's Lemony Crisps

1 (18.25 oz.) pkg. Lemon Cake Mix (Pillsbury Moist Supreme)
1/3 cup Oil
2 Eggs
1/4 cup Sugar
1 cup Powdered Sugar
2-3 tablespoons Lemon Juice
Colored Sugar for decoration

Heat oven to 375 degrees. In large bowl combine cake mix, oil, and eggs. Stir until thoroughly moistened. Shape dough into 1" balls; place 2" apart on un greased cookie sheet (line cookie sheets with parchment for easy removal). Place sugar in shallow dish. Dip the bottom of a glass into the sugar and then flatten the cookies to 1/4" thickness. This gives the cookies a nice sugar crunch topping.
Bake at 375 degrees for 5-7 minutes or until edges are light golden brown. Cool 1 minute; remove from cookie sheets.
In a small bowl, combine powdered sugar and lemon juice until smooth. Drizzle over cookies and sprinkle with colored sugar before icing sets. Yields 4 dozen cookies

Beth's Chocolate Gooey Butter Cookies

1 (8-ounce) brick cream cheese, room temperature
1 stick butter, at room temperature
1 egg
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 (18-ounce) box moist chocolate cake mix
Confectioners' sugar, for dusting

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F.
In a large bowl with an electric mixer, cream the cream cheese and butter until smooth. Beat in the egg. Then beat in the vanilla extract. Beat in the cake mix. Cover and refrigerate for 2 hours to firm up so that you can roll the batter into balls. Roll the chilled batter into tablespoon sized balls and then roll them in confectioner's sugar. Place on an ungreased cookie sheet, 2 inches apart. Bake 12 minutes. The cookies will remain soft and "gooey." Cool completely and sprinkle with more confectioners' sugar, if desired. Yield: 2 dozen cookies

Jodi's Slice and Bake Shortbread Cookies

1 cup butter, softened
½ cup firmly packed brown sugar
1 tsp vanilla
2 ¼ cups all-purpose flour
½ cup sugar
1 tsp ground cinnamon

Combine butter, brown sugar and vanilla in large bowl. Beat at medium speed, scraping bowl often, until creamy. Reduce speed to low; add flour. Beat, scraping bowl often, until mixture leaves side of bowl and forms a smooth, soft dough. Divide dough in half. Shape each half into 6x2-inch round log. Wrap each log in plastic food wrap; refrigerate at least 2 hours. Heat oven to 375°F. Cut logs into 1/4-inch slices with sharp knife. Place 1 inch apart onto ungreased cookie sheets. Bake for 7 to 9 minutes or until lightly browned on edges. Let stand 5 minutes before removing from cookie sheets. Meanwhile, combine sugar and cinnamon in small bowl. Roll warm cookies in cinnamon-sugar mixture. Yields 3 ½ dozen cookies

VARIATION:Marbled Slice & Bake Shortbread Cookies: Melt 2 (1-ounce) squares semi-sweet baking chocolate* in 1-quart saucepan over low heat; cool 5 minutes. Prepare dough as directed. Remove half of dough from bowl; set aside. To remaining dough in bowl, add cooled melted chocolate. Beat at low speed just until mixed. Divide white and chocolate doughs into 2 pieces each. Shape each piece into a 6-inch log. Press and mold together 1 white and 1 chocolate log to create marbled effect. Shape marbled dough into 6-inch log. Repeat with remaining 2 pieces of dough. Wrap each log in plastic food wrap; refrigerate until firm (at least 2 hours). Slice and bake as directed above. Roll warm cookies in sugar. *Substitute 1/3 cup real semi-sweet chocolate chips, melted and cooled.

Eileen's Meringue Mushrooms

2 egg whites
1/4 teaspoon cream of tartar
1/2 cup sugar
Cocoa
Chocolate Frosting (recipe below, canned will also work)

Cover 2 cookie sheets with heavy brown paper. Beat egg whites and cream of tartar until foamy. Beat in sugar, 1 tablespoon at a time; continue beating until stiff and glossy, about 5 minutes, do not underbeat.

Heat oven to 200. Fit decorator's tube with plain tip, with 1/4 inch opening (#10 or 11). Fill tube with meringue, hold tube upright, pipe out about 55 mushroom caps, each 1 - 1 1/4 in. diameter. Sift cocoa over the caps. Bake until firm, 45 - 50 minutes. Remove from oven immediately turn caps upside down and carefully make an indentation on the bottom of each cap, wooden spoon handle is ideal size. Brush off excess cocoa with soft bristle brush.

Using same tip, on 2nd cookie sheet pipe out about 55 stems, about 3/4 inch diameter. Stems should have peaks that will fit into mushroom caps. Bake until firm, about 40 - 45 minutes.

Chocolate Frosting

1 squares (1 ounce) unsweetened chocolate
1 teaspoons butter
1 cups powdered sugar
1 tablespoons hot water

Heat chocolate and butter until melted. Remove from heat. Beat in powdered sugar and hot water until smooth and of spreading consistency. If necessary, add more hot water, 1 teaspoon at a time.

Assemble the Mushrooms

Turn over each cap, spread a small amount of frosting in the indentation, insert stem, carefully place upside down to dry. Store uncovered at room temperature.

Pass Me The Whine

2010-01-04T15:52:00.013-05:00

Okay people- call the Wahmbulance. I was a whiny baby yesterday, huh? Tell me when I need to stop the pity party, m'kay?

Must be the dreaded mood swings of MENOPAUSE!

MR assured me I'm not a bad cook. No need to go to cooking school. I just got overwhelmed and maybe a little lazy (should have sifted that lumpy baking powder...) But I am a good cook. I've inherited the baking gene. I can pipe frosting with the best of them.

There. I feel better.

In fact, let's explore my awesomeness, shall we? No, just kidding. Number 43 of my 101 in 1001 was to make 50% of my Christmas gifts. Now that all the gifts have been given, I can safely blog about them without giving away the surprise.

For my nieces and nephew, I made the puppet theater, as well as these adorable hooded bath towels. I found the tutorial here. They were super easy and they turned out so cute. My Mother-in-Law paid me the highest compliment when she saw them...she told me I COULD quit my day job. I won't, though. Not yet.

Unfortunately when I asked Sammy and Lily to model their towels, Sammy got scratched several times by a pin I had left in the towel. I hugged her and kissed the boo-boo, but she went and tattled on my anyway. TO EVERYONE. That Aunt Soo left a pin in her towel and it scratched her. HARD.

So NOT awesome.

But they are. They're the cutest little girls ever. They look like little Ewoks.

I made the same towels for JJ and Parker. Their initials were in camouflage and flames. I also made them mustaches. I didn't get a picture of Parker singing arias in the living room mirror with it on, but here's Dastardly Jason wearing his.

I wore one to pick Zombiegirl up at Jodi's. The mother pushing her kid in the stroller down the block did a double take when she spotted me in the car. Now all the kids want one. And a few of the grown ups!

I also made pillows for the soccer girls. Z-girl drew the letters and picked the material and I cut them out and sewed them to the pillows. Embellished with some buttons and some flower patches they looked shabby-chic. I didn't get pictures, but I still have to make Z-girl one. It won't look as girly, though. She wants black and plaid...

Of course she does.

I channeled Mom again and made all the girls angel ornaments using safety pins and beads. Again, Mom made me feel bad that she worked so hard on these in the past, but they were really easy. They're going to show up on the craft table next year.

For my soccer moms, I painted these skinny reindeer. Last year, I was stressing about finishing the cross stitch frames I was making them and Mom gave me four of these reindeer to paint- just in case I couldn't finish. I was able to finish the cross stitch so I saved the reindeer for this year. Mom had cleaned them in ceramics, and had started to paint one of them. I kept that one, and painted up the rest for my moms. Theirs have Christmas lights entwined in their antlers.I gave each one of them a reindeer and a coffee cozy, because I know how much they love their coffee. I have to make more of these- they were super easy!

Okay, I feel better now.

The Party's Over

2010-01-03T20:09:00.007-05:00

Christmas and New Year's. Sigh. The celebrations are over. Christmas dinner with Dad, an impromptu New Year's Party with a few friends and last night we had the camping crew over for dinner and gifts.

And I'm feeling melancholy. And maybe a little hungover.

Someone asked me if I made any New Year Resolutions. Hell, I'm still working on finishing last year's resolutions. I think I'm going to use my 101 in 1001 days as my resolutions for the next few years. I think they pretty much summed up where I want change in my life.

So why am I melancholy?

I had a dinner last night for 21 people. And two crazy dogs. In my little house. And I was so totally stressed out by the end of the night I ended up drinking too much, and paid for it today. Dinner parties like this are history. Cooking like that is finished. And I can't drink like I used to. And it's upsetting because I love to entertain and I love to cook and I love to drink. Even though I pretty much suck at all of it.

So unless I move (which is not an option according to Zombiegirl) my parties are limited to eight people or less. Twenty-one people crammed into my house, kids running full steam upstairs, screaming and falling down stairs while stupid dogs barked incessantly while trying to escape their confines does not make for a relaxing evening. And I always end up cooking too many dishes so nothing comes out the way I expected (except the eggplant rollatini, which came out awesome, if I do say so myself...) And I use EVERY plate, cup, mug, fork, knife and spoon in the house. Without a dishwasher. Yes, you read correctly. I don't have a dishwasher. It's currently the home to my Tupperware and not usable.

MR and I decided- no more parties and back to cooking basics. Which, for me, is actually reading the recipe all the way through, TWICE, before I actually start cooking. What did I fuck up yesterday? The Croque-em-bouche for the second time, the red velvet cupcakes which had tiny lumps of baking powder in them, the quinoa which turned out tasty, but gloppy (very unappetizing) and the second lasagna. Which I left in the oven while we ate. Which didn't make a difference last night but when we went to eat it tonight it was as hard as a shoe. I was told I don't pay attention while I cook, and I walk away. Literally walk away, says Zombie-G. Yes, she said "literally." So, yeah, back to basics. I'm going to take one dish at a time and perfect it. Over and over until I get it right.

Hey- was that a resolution? Yeah, I guess it was. Back-to-basic cooking skills. At 46 years old.

Wonderful.

But... if I'm not having anymore dinner parties...why do I have to perfect my cooking? My family eats everything I make. Who do I need to impress? Hmmm? Yeah, okay, I'll try to cook better for the family. They deserve it. I guess....

I'm hanging up my party platters. I'm putting away the good silverware. I'm packing up the entertainment pieces.

Yeah- these next few weeks I'm cleaning house. No, I'm clearing house. I've said it before- we have too much stuff. So keeping in mind that I won't be having any more of these crazy parties, I'm going to go through all our stuff and either eBay it or put it on Craigslist. Or donate it. Or Freecycle it. I'm going to list here some of the stuff I'm getting rid of. Maybe you want it?

Maybe my crazy cousin's crazy husband has it right. He won't let her buy anything and bring it into the house until she gets rid of something she already has. (Okay, yeah, they are crazy. And not because of that.) I'm NOT buying anything until I've cleared out some of the stuff I don't use. Out with the old. THEN in with the new. New year, fresh start.

So much for not making resolutions!

Yes. I'm rambling. Sorry. Blame the bourbon.

It's Getting Hot In Here...

2009-12-28T19:14:00.004-05:00

I love lists. I love thinking things up and writing them down in a list. I love reading other people’s lists. If I find one in the supermarket, I love playing the voyeur and reading what other people need out of life. I love making shopping lists, to-do lists, Christmas lists, meal planning lists, even “100 things I love/hate” lists. Many, many years ago, my friend and I even wrote a “Pro/Con” list why I should get married to my future ex-husband. The “cons” totally outweighed the “pros” and yet I married him anyway. Yeah, young and stupid. That’s me.

Anyway, I came across a list today that I DON’T FREAKIN’ LIKE MUCH. This list scares the crap out of me! Like, HOLY SHIT, why did I even click on this? Damn you, Google, for even putting this out on the Interwebs…

Try and guess what these are symptoms of:

1. Hot flashes, flushes, night sweats and/or cold flashes, clammy feeling
2. Irregular heart beat
3. Irritability
4. Mood swings, sudden tears
5. Trouble sleeping through the night (with or without night sweats)
6. Irregular periods; shorter, lighter periods; heavier periods, flooding; phantom periods, shorter cycles, longer cycles
7. Loss of libido
8. Dry vagina
9. Crashing fatigue
10. Anxiety, feeling ill at ease
11. Feelings of dread, apprehension, doom
12. Difficulty concentrating, disorientation, mental confusion
13. Disturbing memory lapses
14. Incontinence, especially upon sneezing, laughing; urge incontinence
15. Itchy, crawly skin (feeling of ants crawling under the skin, not just dry itchy skin)
16. Aching, sore joints, muscles and tendons
17. Increased tension in muscles
18. Breast tenderness
19. Headache change: increase or decrease
20. Gastrointestinal distress, indigestion, flatulence, gas pain, nausea
21. Sudden bouts of bloat
22. Depression
23. Exacerbation of existing conditions
24. Increase in allergies
25. Weight gain
26. Hair loss or thinning, head, pubic, or whole body; increase in facial hair
27. Dizziness, light-headedness, episodes of loss of balance
28. Changes in body odor
29. Electric shock sensation under the skin and in the head
30. Tingling in the extremities
31. Gum problems, increased bleeding
32. Burning tongue, burning roof of mouth, bad taste in mouth, change in breath odor
33. Osteoporosis (after several years)
34. Changes in fingernails: softer, crack or break easier
35. Tinnitus: ringing in ears, bells, 'whooshing,' buzzing etc.

Yes, it’s a list of symptoms of menopause. Lovely.

So…not to go too deeply into the realm of TMI, but DAMN, my armpits have been itching for weeks now! A really deep itch. Like the itch I had in my boobs about a year ago. Related? Probably. I’ve changed deodorant and detergent and I’m still walking around scratching like a monkey looking for a banana. And when I go to bed, I get all snuggly in my pajamas and comforters and put my feet on MR to warm them up. By morning? Fuck that! Too hot! I want to strip down naked and stand in front of the open refrigerator. I would, too, if my kitchen had curtains. I wake up in a puddle of sweat every damn morning lately. Thirteen of the 35 symptoms listed here have now made themselves known to me.

WTF.

Is this what I have to look forward to for the next 10 years- my body playing some hideously ridiculous tricks on me? Why can’t my eggs dry up nice and quiet like? Why do they feel like they have to have some huge going away party at my expense?

Yeah, so this is one list I’m not looking forward to completing. In fact, I’m planning on adding to this list. I’m going to blame EVERYTHING on menopause! Fever sore smack dab in the middle of my lip on Christmas? Menopause! Grotesquely calloused feet? Not because I live in my Uggs- it’s Menopause! Third degree burn on my index finger from molten caramel? Menopause caused it! Major heartburn the day after Christmas- it wasn’t the gravy- it was Menopause!

(Hey- I’ll be like that annoying mommyblogger when she got Shingles! Capitalize and exclamation the hell out of it!)

Now to continue showering you with the cookie recipes from the cookie party (those extra pounds were NOT from eating cookies- they were from Menopause!) here are Mia’s version of Uncle Anthony’s Sesame Cookies- a definite winner in my household. And Mia is now a cookie making monster!

2 cups flour
3/4 cup sugar
1 stick butter (left out of refrigerator for an hour to soften. Do Not microwave!)
2 tbsp water
2 tsp vanilla extract
1 tsp baking soda
1 tsp baking powder
1 pinch of salt
1 beaten egg
1 cup of sesame seeds

Mix all ingredients so smooth. Add wet ingredients (egg/water/vanilla). Mix/roll until uniform. Roll into logs. Cut into 2 inch pieces. Roll in seeds. Bake 16-20 minutes at 350 degrees. Poke with toothpick. Remove when slightly moist. Cookies will cook a little more on cooling rack.
Makes 2 dozen.

Happy Boxing Day!

2009-12-26T20:08:00.006-05:00

Today's Boxing Day. The day after Christmas when you get rid of all the boxes of all the presents you received the day before.

Okay, not really. Boxing Day (in Great Britain and Canada) is the day you honor all the servants and work people in your life. So since I forgot my mailman, John and the paperboy and the bus drivers, I'll get their cards together and give them tokens of our appreciation. How much do you give your mailman?

Our Christmas was very low-key and simple this year. We went up to Paula and Ray's Christmas Eve for a HUGE fish dinner. Gak, I ate so much. Ray is an awesome cook (Paula is NO slouch, either.) The scallops were the best I've ever eaten. Yesterday, we had Dad over for dinner and some Wii games. A casual time, with no fuss. The food was good, the gifts were great and the French Creams tasted like Pepto Bismol. At least the pink ones did!

I hate when people post what they got for Christmas. I always feel like they're showing off. But I have to post what I got for Christmas- it's too funny. Besides the zoom lens for my Rebel (thanks MR), the silver and turquoise cross by C. Iule (thanks Z-girl), Stephen King's latest novel Under the Dome (thanks Beena), my Secret Santa got me an awesome gift off my gift list on the right. Instead of buying all the sister-in-laws and brother-in-laws gifts, the six of us pick our Secret Santa out of a hat. I got Ray this year and Laura (MR's sister) got me. Paula picked up a knife for Ray the Hunter and Laura got me a Doggie Dooley.

Yes, a septic system for dog shit.

And how awesome is that? It gets buried in my backyard and all the poop gets shovelled into it. A digestive powder is added and it breaks down the crap and it liquifies into the ground. My only concern is that it'll seep into the water table. Long Island gets their freshwater from the underground aquifers. Will the massive pooping systems I call Lola and Spencer contaminate the aquifers? Will I be harming the ecosystem by putting doody into the ground? Probably not. We can't break ground until the spring. And I can't wait. How pathetic is that that I am anxious to shovel shit?!

I'm going to continue with the Cookie Exchange recipes, then when that's all done, I HAVe to blog about the Croque-en-bouche disaster.

So here's another cookie recipe featured at the party... Rosalie's Tri Color Cookies. These were absolutely lucious! And Roe is great- she's Beena's "Mother-in-law"- her boyfriend John's mom.

Tri Color Cookies

2 sticks butter, softened
1 cup sugar
4 large eggs, room temperature
1 cup sifted flour
3 teaspoons pure almond extract
1 tablespoon finely grated orange zest
food coloring, green, yellow and pink

FILLING:1 jar seedless raspberry spread

TOPPING: 1 (12-ounce) bag semi-sweet chocolate chips
1 1/2 tablespoons vegetable oil

This recipe is cooked in three separate layers and then assembled. The bottom layer is green, the middle layer is yellow, and the top layer is pink.

Preheat oven to 375°F. Use air-foam pan approximately 15x10x1 lined with parchment paper.
Cream together butter and sugar. Blend in eggs one at a time. Add flour gradually, blending well. Add extract, orange zest, and several drops of green food coloring. Blend.

Bake for approximately 15 minutes. Let cool on rack and carefully flip cake out of pan onto flat tray or into larger pan. Carefully remove the parchment paper and spread jam across entire surface, not too thick.

Repeat cooking directions for next layer using yellow food coloring. After cooling, flip this layer on top of first layer, press, and spread with jam. Repeat last layer using pink food coloring.
In a double boiler, melt chocolate chips with oil. Spread evenly over top layer with a spatula. Let cool.

Refrigerate until read to cut. Before cutting, bring back to room temperature and using a sharp knife cut into 2-inch by 1-inch cookies, discarding edges that are uneven.

TIP: Cookies also freeze well. Freeze uncut and bring to room temperature before slicing.
Yield: Approximately 70 - 75 cookies

What was your favorite gift YOU got for Christmas?

Countdown to Christmas #11- Puppet Master

2009-12-21T23:00:00.003-05:00

Finally! I'm done with my nieces and nephew's puppet theater. I had pretty much finished yesterday but I still had to make the case. It was inspired by Amy Carol's book "Bend the Rules Sewing" which I purchased last year. I started the puppet theater last year, but I never finished it for Christmas. I put a little bit of history into this thing...the curtains (which look a little scrunchy) are made from material my mom made for me and my brother when we shared a room at my old house. The room was done in a circus theme. We shared until I was around 5, and they put an extension on top of the house and added two bedrooms- one for me, one for my brother, Robbie. The black and white material is from an old sheet I kept over my dollhouse in my old home.

I picked up two sets of new puppets on eBay for them and when we go up when the new baby is born, I'll bring three more puppets I plan on making from recycled dish detergent bottles. Now all they need is their imagination!

Continuing with my awesomeness (hah!) I'm posting pictures of one of my nativity sets. I have three out. I made this one around 15 years ago at ceramics. I started going to ceramics (hi Judy!) in 1984 to start making my first wedding favors. Aunt Anne, Mom, Diane and I would carpool to Merrick and go to classes in Judy's basement. Some of my best memories are from ceramics. So getting back to the nativity (not creche, MR!) I cleaned and painted each piece (baby Jesus isn't there yet) and Mom and Dad bought the stable for me. I still have two or three pieces I have to paint, and for some reason my shepherd is missing. Maybe he went for coffee. I'm planning on doing an artsy pictorial with this nativity set because there is so much detail.

We went to Walmart tonight. We had to pass the mall entrance and I said a silent prayer of thanks that we didn't have to go to the mall. Walmart was all kinds of crazy- with the best of humanity shopping for last minute presents. I got a headache just trying to maneuver between the massive masses. But I almost finished. A few more odds and ends and I'm done!

Cookie recipe tonight- Beena's no-bake Chocolate Coffee balls. These are really good when they're stale!

2 tsps. Instant coffee powder
½ cup hot water
1 cup (6 oz.)semisweet chocolate chips
3 tbsp. light corn syrup
3 cups powdered sugar
1 3.4 cups graham cracker crumbs
1 cup walnuts, chopped fine
Powdered sugar for rolling
Dissolve the coffee in the hot water. In the top of a double boiler, melt the chocolate over low heat, stirring until smooth. Stir in the corn syrup. Stir in the coffee. Remove from he heat and beat in the powdered sugar. Gradually blend in the graham crackers and walnuts. Pinch off 1-inch pieces of dough and roll into balls. Roll each ball in powdered sugar. Store in an airtight container for at least 2 days before serving.

For cookies with more of a kick, use 1.2 cup of coffee liqueur in place of the
water and coffee.

Four more days!

Countdown to Christmas #10- Like an Elf

2009-12-20T22:16:00.003-05:00

Being snowed in today with the first blizzard of the season, I actually got alot done. I was like Santa's elves. Did laundry, made butter cookies (using my new cookie gun- thanks Kathy and Patty,) cleaned the kitchen, made peppermint bark with Z-girl and finally got my nieces and nephew's puppet theater done. I need to make the case, but the gift is done. I'll post pictures when it's ironed and ready to be wrapped.

I didn't take pictures of the snow! We got around 14 inches overnight. Zombiegirl was at Kendal's birthday sleepover and I had to walk a few blocks to drop winter clothes off so she could play with her friends. It took me less time to walk than to clean off my car. MR shovelled us and the ladies next door out while I shovelled their walk and stoop. And I'm paying for it now. What the heck am I going to the gym for if a little physical labor knocks me out?

I still have several gifts to make by Christmas eve- hooded towels and a set of felt mustaches for

the nephew. I got a reprieve on the soccer kids gifts- we're having a Christmas dinner on January 2, so I have until then to finish that sewing. I'll finish everything, though. I'm pacing myself and I took Christmas Eve off. That day is going to be taken up making a croque en bouche and chocolate monkey bread for Paula and Ray's.

Today's cookie is my co-host's and my favorite from the cookie exchange. It's almost like a gingerbread cookie- and works great when dipped in tea!

Ronnie's Molasses Sugar Cookie

1 1/2 cups shortening

4 teaspoons baking soda
2 cups white sugar

2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
1/2 cup molasses

1 teaspoon salt
2 eggs

1 teaspoon ground cloves
4 cups all-purpose flour

1 teaspoon ground ginger

Melt shortening and cool. Add sugar, eggs and molasses; beat well.
Sift the flour, baking soda, cinnamon, salt, ground cloves and ginger. Add to the molasses mixture and stir until well combined. Chill dough for at least 3 hours or overnight.
Preheat oven to 375 degrees F (190 degrees C). Lightly grease a baking sheet. Remove dough from the refrigerator and form into walnut sized balls. Roll balls in white sugar. Place balls about 2 inches apart on the prepared baking sheet. Bake at 375 degrees F (190 degrees C) for 8 to 10 minutes for chewy cookies and 10 to 12 minutes for crisper cookies. Store cookies in an airtight container. Yields 6 dozen.

Countdown to Christmas #9- Cookie Exchange 2009

2009-12-19T12:36:00.004-05:00

Okay, enough with the stupid crap that's going on at the Dreamscape post. It's been taken to Facebook. I'm keeping the comments up for one more day, then they're being archived.

Soulspeak, baby. I love you. Thanks for saying everything I've been thinking.

So enough. Christmas is almost here!

Last Saturday we had our annual Cookie Party Exchange. I was smart this year and tried my cookies out in October because my cookies never come out like the picture of the recipe I use. The consensus was good so I stuck with that one. What's not to like about Caramel Apple Cookies?

We moved the party to Ronnie's house last year because it's apparent that my house is way too small. We ditched the kids this year since all our guests had kids and it would have been too crowded.

What do we do at a Cookie Party, you may ask? To start, each guest is asked to bring six dozen cookies and a $5.00 gift beautifully wrapped. They have to email me the recipe beforehand because each guest goes home with a tray of cookies (tray provided by us) a stack of recipe cards, a gift and a favor (provided by us) usually something baking related.

We play Steal the Gift, that's why the $5.00 gift has to be beautifully wrapped, to entice everyone to steal it. It's hard to find a $5.00 gift, so next year we're going to do Steal the Gift with ornaments or up the price of the gift.

Some of the games we play are;

Forbidden Words- each guest is given a necklace with a small cookie cutter attached. A group of five or six words are posted around the house. If you catch someone saying the forbidden words, then you get to take their necklace. The person with the most necklaces at the end of the night wins a prize.
Sit On Your Friends Lap- a list of questions is asked. If you answer "yes" to any of the questions, you move one seat to the right. If someone is sitting there, tough- sit on their lap. The person who ends up in their original seat wins.
Draw On Your Head- paper is placed on your head, and your given instructions on what to draw. The person who comes closest to the directions wins.
Left/Right Game- A modified version of "Night Before Christmas" is read and every time the word "right" or "left" is said, a stuffed Rudolph is passed around the circle in that direction. No hands allowed, though! Last one with Rudolph is the winner.
Guess What's in the Stocking- items are placed in two stockings and without looking, guests have to feel and write what's in them. The person with the most right answers wins.

Each day up until Christmas, I'll be posting the recipes of all the cookies that made an appearance at the party. I'll start with mine...it was originally found here.

Caramel Apple Cookies

1 cup butter

½ tsp salt

1 cup brown sugar

1 tsp baking powder

1 cup white sugar

1 tsp baking soda

2 eggs

12 oz caramel baking bits

1 tsp vanilla

2 cups granny smith apples, peeled and finely chopped
2 cups flour

2¾ cup old fashioned oats, pulsed in food processor until finely ground (not quick-cooking oatmeal)

In a large bowl, beat the butter, brown sugar, and white sugar with an electric mixer until the mixture is fluffy, about 2 minutes. Add the vanilla and eggs. Beat until combined. In a medium-sized bowl, stir the oatmeal, flour, salt, baking powder, and baking soda until combined. Set aside. Using an electric mixer, stir the flour mixture into the butter mixture until combined. Stir in the caramel bits and apples. Save a few of each (the apple and the caramel) for dotting on top of the rolled cookie dough balls. Refrigerate the dough for 1 hour. Roll the cookie dough into golf ball-sized balls.

Bake on a parchment paper-lined baking sheet in an oven preheated to 350 degrees F, for 10-12 minutes. The sheet should be placed on the upper middle rack. Cool on the pan for 4 minutes before transferring to a wire rack.

Note: Dough is best the day of. In time, the apples add extra moisture to the dough, causing a wider spread on the baked cookies. Alternatively, you can pre-roll the dough into balls and freeze if you aren't using it all the first day. Place the dough balls on a cookie sheet until solid, and then transfer to a labeled sealable freezer bag. Use within one month. Simply add an extra couple minutes to the baking time since the dough is frozen.
Yields 3 dozen

My Soccer Moms. Thanks Ronnie, for hosting the 6th (or it 7th?) Annual Cookie Exchange!

Countdown to Christmas #8- Sleep in Heavenly Peace

2009-12-16T23:08:00.006-05:00

If there is to be peace in the world,

There must be peace in the nations.

If there is to be peace in the nations,

There must be peace in the cities.

If there is to be peace in the cities,

There must be peace between neighbors.

If there is to be peace between neighbors,

There must be peace in the home.

If there is to be peace in the home,

There must be peace in the heart.

~ Lao-Tzu

I was going to finish my weekend post about the Cookie Exchange we had last Saturday night, but a recent anonymous comment left on this blog prompted me to preempt the weekend post with one I've been carrying around with me for awhile.

Guess what?

I realized the other day that I'm content.

I realized the other day that I'm at peace.

As the world swirls around me, as the economy crashes at my feet, as my family is torn asunder...I can honestly say I'm serene in my heart.

Yes, I may be cranky at times. Or cruel. Or snarky. Or bitchy.

Yes, I want the pieces of my family put back together.

Yes, I want my dog to stop drooling. And my underpits to stop itching. And my belly to be less flabby.

Yes, I still complain about work, tourists, Naomi, and the people who've "done me wrong."

But it doesn't matter. It's all crap.

As I sat on the bus the other day holding a stroller upright for a young mother juggling an arm full of baby and groceries I was like the Grinch, who's heart swelled 10 sizes that day. My heart swelled and I knew that I am blessed. Blessed with a wonderful family, awesome friends, a job, no bills, good health, minimal stress and I want for nothing.

Dare I say it?

I'm happy.

Is it the effect of the season that's making me happy? Is it this gorgeous Christmas tree sitting in front of me that not only lights up the room, but also my heart?

I don't think so. I think the Holiday Spirit inside me has been magnified by my new-found inner happiness. My contentedness. My calm.

Do I have peace in my heart, in my mind, in my soul? Do I feel that I'm a good person, a good wife, a good friend and a good mother to those around me?

Yes, I think I do, and I think I am.

I'm sleeping very well these days...

Countdown to Christmas #7- The Laying of the Wreaths (or What I Did This Weekend, Part 1)

2009-12-14T18:37:00.008-05:00

Part 1

Here it is, Monday the 14th. It’s a sad day for me, but I’m not ready to blog about it just yet. I’ve been in remembrance mode all weekend and I just need to get into the spirit of the season. And I’m happy to say I’m there. I’m not ready to sink down into sadness just right yet.

I want to blog about my weekend, but you might want to wait for the "Saturday Night" installment of this blog. I’m documenting my Saturday morning with Dad not only so I can remember what we did and where we went, but throwing out the names of my relatives on the Interwebs might bring interesting results. If you want to read about my dead family members then have at it. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Saturday Morning:
After losing Zombiegirl and MR to Putnam Valley (him hunting, her shopping with Aunt Laura) I was free to spend five hours traveling the length of Long Island and Queens with Dad. He had asked me a month ago if I would come with him to place wreaths on our family’s graves. I knew he and Mom did this every year after taking it over from my Aunt and Nana Frances, and I knew it was important to him- he already had the wreaths in the car when he asked. So we made a date for early Saturday morning.

After breakfast at the Venus, we headed out to Pinelawn, where my brother and mother are interred. Okay, here goes- I’m acknowledging my brother’s death today, 20 years ago. But I’m not going to dwell. Don’t want to sink…not yet.

Out in Pinelawn, Dad placed a miniature Christmas tree in front of their stones. I hadn’t seen Mom’s engraving since the last time we were out there to place her ashes in the niche, so it came as a little bit of a shock and I got a little bit choked up. That’s okay, though, perfectly normal response, right? Not going to let this day get me down. Dad and I were having a great conversation about practically everything. I didn’t want to get all emotional and bring him down, too. A few tears, a kiss on each stone and we’re off to the next cemetery. I don’t remember my Uncle Ed very well. I remember his girlfriend at the time, Doree, though. (She was one strange peacock- always decked out in jewelry and makeup- even though she was in her 60’s. Dad claims she was a hooker. I always thought she was glamorous. I was five. What did I know?) Uncle Edward Ellsworth Hewlett is buried in the U.S. National Cemetery. I was truly amazed at the amount of all the soldiers buried here and the military precision in which the headstones are placed. Straight lines in EVERY direction, as far as you can see. Truly amazing. We placed the wreath, Dad told me a few stories of my Uncle, (one of Nana Ethel’s nine siblings) I snapped a few pictures and we got back into the car.
Why does it feel 20 degrees colder at cemeteries?

On the way out of the cemetery, I see a man about my age bend down to kiss the headstone of his loved one. A father? A son? A daughter? Tears sprang back into my eyes as I witnessed this very tender act. Crap. Don’t let Dad see me cry…

My beloved Nana Ethel is buried in Trinity Cemetery in Hewlett. My family founded Hewlett, Long Island- but unfortunately none of the money trickled down into our hands. We hit this cemetery next because it’s close to the Lawrence Costco, and I needed to pick up an art desk for the nieces and nephew. Dad recently had Nana’s name added to the Pfeiff headstone. One of my Mom’s last requests (of me, actually- I totally dropped the ball on this one) was to have Nana’s name engraved on the headstone. This was the first time I saw the new engraving. Her husband William is next to her and her mother and father (my Great-Grandparents on my Mom’s side) are buried on the left side of them. Don’t tell anyone- Nana and her husband are really lying reversed of their names on the headstone. Nana was supposedly slightly pissed when they engraved her husband’s name on the wrong side, but who’s going to know? Besides us…

Costco had the art set at HALF the price it was last week at the Old Westbury Costco. I like instant Manufacturers coupons! Yay for Christmas!

We drove back into Queens to visit Dad’s relatives. First stop, Maple Grove Cemetery in Kew Gardens. Seems Dad’s father, Grandpa-formerly-known-as-Pop-Pop, didn’t want to be buried in the family cemetery- he wanted something more peaceful and shady. Well, Maple Grove is pretty, but Grandpa is buried within sight of the Van Wyck Expressway overlooking the Good Samaritan Village. The nearest tree is around 30 feet away. Good planning, Grandpa! Lol! We had a little problem finding him- thank goodness Mom had written down the plot number. Howard Arfmann is the only Arfmann in our family buried in this cemetery. On the plaque in the ground (no headstone) there’s a spot for my Nana. According to my Dad, his father was ready to die- maybe to get away from my Nana? Now he’s going to spend all eternity with her, whenever my Aunt decides to place her ashes in the ground. Stop talking to your dead mother, Aunt Jean and get her buried. Or something. It’s really not healthy to have her keep you company! [snort] We placed a wreath on the cool metal vase that pops out of the metal ground plate and geared up for the next cemetery.

My Great-Grandma, Ida, and her spinster daughter, my Great-Aunt Marion are buried at Trinity Lutheran Cemetery in Ridgewood.. This cemetery is so old, a bush that was planted around where my relatives are buried was probably three feet in diameter 60 years ago. The damned bush is over 25 feet wide now! If they ever cut this bush down, I won’t be able to find my folks. And in 15 years, it just might overtake my ancestor’s headstones. A family of five could live comfortably within it’s evergreen branches, it’s so big.

Anyway, Great-Grandma Ida Arfmann, Marion Arfmann and my Great-Grandpa, George Arfmann, whom I never met, are buried here. Great-Grandpa died 50 years before his wife! She never re-married, preferring to keep her daughter by her side as company. Aunt Marion was never allowed to marry. Seems weird now that I’m an adult, but as a child I loved these two women. Future blog post.

Cousin Mildred Arfmann (Dad’s father’s cousin) is buried with her parents right next door. Mildred was another spinster who preferred the company of her married boyfriend to actually finding someone available and settling down. She had a good life with him, though. He doted on her and she was able to maintain her independence. She loved MR so much more than my ex. She was the only one happy to hear I was getting a divorce. Mildred told it like it was- direct and overbearing- and I loved her very much, too.

I got some great pictures of some of the soaring angels at Trinity Lutheran. It got really cold and windy so we didn’t linger. Dad and I talked some more about our crazy relatives (another blog post) and then he dropped me off so I could start on my cookie baking. All around, it was good we did this together. Another tradition born out of necessity! Is it morbid that I took pictures of my family’s tombstones? I’m just afraid I’ll never find them again when it’s my turn to go cemetery hopping at Christmas.

Stay tuned for Part 2 of What I Did This Weekend.

Countdown to Christmas #6- Hansel and Gretel, Eat Your Heart Out

2009-12-10T17:02:00.006-05:00

The tradition of decorating gingerbread houses at Christmastime began the year our dear dog, Lola, ate the house Zombiegirl decorated at Riesterer's Bakery on a Girl Scout trip. It was left on the dining room table for everyone to look at, then, when our backs were turned, Lola jumped up on the table and finished it off. Licked the plate clean- not a crumb left.

Zombiegirl was so upset my Mom bought a gingerbread house kit and invited Z-girl over to decorate it. They had such a good time, they made it an annual event. Just the two of them. It was the only thing they ever did together.

Last year was bittersweet. Mom asked me to help them, since her tumor had grown so much and was, well, leaking. Her lips were also numb and swollen so she couldn't talk much at that point. She didn't want Z-girl to see her like that, so she wrapped a towel around her neck, made the frosting then let us decorate the little houses- there were three in that kit. We brought them home as usual and put them on top of the wall unit. Hey, we learn quickly.

I didn't even think about the gingerbread decorating thing this year. It was Beena's idea. She said she and Zombiegirl would decorate the house this year if I picked up a kit.

My eldest is turning out so thoughtful.

So we were in Costco the other night and the first thing we see when we walked in were pallets upon pallets of gingerbread house kits. I didn't care how much it was, I was getting it. (It was only $19.95!) Last night, in the middle of my migraine, we started putting together the house.

After a few minutes, it was apparent I wasn't needed.

Beena and Z-girl put the house and tree together and decorated it with icing, gumdrops, jellybeans and jaw breakers. This sweet tradition has been passed down from grandmother to granddaughter, skipping me altogether. But I am SO alright with that- I love when my daughters do things together. I love listening from the oher room their banter and minor arguments. These two have a new tradition together- like it or not. I can picture 10 to 15 years from now those two getting together with their kids at a big kitchen table (maybe grandma's?) putting together a bunch of gingerbread houses. Remembering the joy and the tears of past house decorating. And wondering if there's enough candy to finish the job this year.

Thanks, dear Lola. Your insatiable appetite started a sweet, sweet tradition for our family.

Now stop drinking from the toilet.

Countdown to Christmas #5- City Sidewalks

2009-12-09T19:43:00.007-05:00

I have the MOTHER of all migraines right now. I woke up with a headache this morning when I got up for the gym so I took Excedrin right away. Didn't make it to the gym, obviously, so I vegetated on the couch for a bit. Where my headache developed into a migraine AFTER I took my medication. Fast and furious and totally debilitating. Sobbing, moaning and wincing at every sound. Throwing up with no relief. I couldn't even lay down to sleep- I put a bag of ice on the back of the couch, wrapped myself in a blanket, laid my head on the ice, pulled the blanket over my head and slept sitting up. Well, "slept" isn't really what my head allowed- more like hallucinated. Maybe it was the illegal codeine I took when the Excedrin didn't work. Whatever. I think I may have invented a machine that reverses barometric pressure in homes and solved the nation's financial crisis. Maybe. If I can remember. I know it seemed to work when I was dozing under the blanket...

I can't muster any Christmas spirit right now. I can't even muster getting out of bed. So I'll just recap what I saw and heard walking through Rockefeller Center last week.

I saw the taping of the NBC Christmas commercial- you know, all the employees and newscasters singing We Wish you a Merry Christmas in front of the tree. And I didn't recognize any of them. I need to watch more TV news, I guess. The funny thing about the whole thing were the giant lyrics plastered on the opposite end of the skating rink. Really? What, can't remember the words to We Wish you a Merry Christmas? Pathetic.

Weaving my way through the hordes of tourists (stay home, people! Or come in on the weekends!) I heard a little girl around five years old arguing with her mother about the Rock Center Christmas tree. She insisted that was NOT the tree they saw on TV. It's too big! The tree on TV was only "THIS TALL!" holding her hands out around 8 inches apart. I caught the Dad's eye and we laughed. Cute and clueless.

We have to decorate a Gingerbread house now. I've been useless and unproductive all day. Let me show a little love to the girls then it's back to bed.

My barometer. When it goes up the pipe I need to go to sleep.

Countdown to Christmas #4- Homemade Christmas Cards

2009-12-08T22:14:00.005-05:00

As I said in Countdown to Christmas #1, I’m making most of our Christmas Cards. A few years back while surfing the ‘net, I found this interesting method of making cards or decorating scrapbooks- Iris Folding. The “iris” in the Iris Folding refers to the eye of a camera- the aperture. The iris of a camera is a series of movable blades that open and close to increase or decrease the aperture. The pattern in Iris Folding looks similar to the blades of the camera. I found a few different patterns for the cutouts and then went crazy for the pretty papers. You usually need three or four different color schemes for this to really come out nice. So I surfed again to see where I could buy papers.

What was I thinking?

Sitting at my desk that year, I flipped over my Avon calendar- the one calendar I keep on my wall at work. I’ve been getting an Avon calendar for 10 years from my consultant (and friend) Sharon Love. Isn’t that a great name? Great name, great lady- she always took care of my Avon needs, when I had them, and then for Christmas gave me a calendar. Then she got laid off. We’re still in touch, but in the meantime, another consultant (and friend) started giving me the calendar. Thanks Nanette! It’s such a pretty calendar- close ups of flowers…

Hey, I thought to myself. What if I used the calendar for my papers? I ripped January through October off and started cutting. The card came out beautiful!

Okay, I think I’m onto something. To practice, I used a Lia Sophia jewelry catalog to make a heart card for Soulspeak’s beautiful wife, since she was the one who sold Lia Sophia. Look at me! I’m recycling! Once you cut the piece and fold it, you lose what it actually is, and it gets all abstract. Perfect. I’ll use my old catalogs.

The only problem now is I’m saving way too many catalogs.

This year, I picked the bell pattern to send to everyone. I’ve been doing the Iris Folding at work (I run a lot of very LONG routines) and I assemble and decorate the cards at home. I’ve only used the Plow and Hearth, LL Bean and The Smithsonian catalogs for the cards so far. Can you tell? Getting there...
Before assembly
Finished product

I was thinking about holding crafting classes as a way to make a little extra money. What do you think? Would you take a class in Iris Folding even though there are tons of tutorials out there on the Web? I’ll see what kind of response I get from the cards. Maybe the soccer girls could make them for next year’s craft sale fundraiser.

So if you get a one of my cards this year…act surprised!

Christmas Countdown #3- Am I Crazy?

2009-12-07T21:52:00.007-05:00

I think I’m getting nostalgic in my old age. I crave the memories of my childhood- the toys I used to play with, the foods I used to eat, the kids I used to hang around with. I think what plays a big part in this wistfulness is the fact that all my childhood playmates, including my brother are gone. I’ve lost touch with almost everyone except David, my one-armed friend. I know where to find him but I can’t talk to him. He’s still wrapped up with my ex and besides, his wife hates me. Meh.

I have no one to rekindle my memories with. And this scares the crap out of me.

So, over the years, I’ve spent a few bucks on eBay buying toys from my past…

My Crissy Doll

My Fisher Price Circus
My Gumby and Pokey My Velvet Doll- Crissy’s friend.
My most recent purchase for Christmas this year is not a toy. I went online to find pieces of my past Christmases. I found, at the Vermont Country Store, my grandfather’s favorite candy- French Creams. I remember Christmas at my parent’s house helping Mom put out all the cakes and pies and brownies and candy. One of her crystal dishes held Grandpa (formerly-known-as-Pop-pop)’s favorite Christmas candy. French Creams were really pretty, and of course, pure sugar. They had a crunchy exterior that tasted of mint and the inside was slightly gooey and sugary. They came in the prettiest pastel colors and the flavor was so sublime- not overpowering at all. Am I crazy to spend $24.95 for a little taste of my past?

Wait- I’m not done. Mom sometimes put out the sweetest mints- so subtle in flavor that I’ve tried to make these mints several times only to have a glob of bright pink goo stuck to the bottom of my double-boiler. Pastel mints (VERY similar to French Creams, without the hard exterior) showed up often on the dessert table at Christmas. Again, the Vermont Country Store pulled through and I was able to order a sleeve of these melt-in-your-mouth goodies.

One more candy brings it all home for me. Ribbon candy. Mom would put out the whole box and my brother and cousins and I would break pieces off and yell out what flavors we had. Ribbon candy was so much better than regular hard candies. There was just something about the shape- that folded over shape that made this candy so much fun to eat. . I didn’t order this from the Vermont Country Store- it was more readily available on the Internet, so I ordered it from Old time Candy. Browsing through their website I also found a few more of my favorites…Flying Saucers, Nik-A-Lips and Wax Lips. I’m not ready to shell out a my hard earned cash for them just yet… maybe for Z-girl’s birthday party…

Okay, so you tell me. Am I crazy for spending money on candy that brings back good memories? I know the candy won’t keep, and NO ONE will think twice about why I have French Creams on the table. But it’s special to me. I think this year I need it, though, you know? I lost my main memory keeper- Mom. This blog is becoming my memory keeper in a way, kind of like a diary I’m throwing out there. Keeping the memories alive for as long as Google deems it so, I guess.

Okay, anyhow. Tell me your favorite memories of Christmases past, please? Let me know I’m not alone in wanting to recreate the good times.? Thanks.

Countdown to Christmas #2- Is Santa Next?

2009-12-02T21:15:00.004-05:00

Thanksgiving day, Zombiegirl and I were sitting on the couch. She was absorbed in an iCarly episode and I was cursing out my computer, fighting virus number elevety million. She turned to me and said, very nonchalantly, that she just pulled her tooth out. Finally. This tooth had been hanging on way too long, not ready to come out even though the tooth below it was fully in. After using four paper towels to soak up the blood, she wrapped it up and wrote a little message to the Tooth Fairy.

We celebrated Thanksgiving at my sister-in-law’s house and everything went great, since Dad came too. He seemed genuinely happy to be there. It worked out well- there were no memories of Mom connected to Thanksgiving up at Paula and Ray’s so there was no sadness on that day.

When we got home, Zombiegirl made sure the tooth was securely under the pillow when we kissed her goodnight. MR went up about a half hour later to make the switch of tooth for cash. When he entered her room, Lola (who’s been taking to sleeping with Z-girl) stirred and woke the kid. She saw her dad standing there and asked what he was doing? He told her he was checking on the dog and to go back to sleep. Him stomping down the stairs told me he was unsuccessful in his mission.

No worries- I’ll do it when I get back from the gym in the morning. She’s a heavy sleeper in the a.m. She won’t feel a thing.

I took the $5 bill Friday morning and snuck up to her room. I was feeling around gently under her pillow when her eyes flew open and she sat straight up in bed. “What are you doing?” she asked me. I told her I was checking to see if her sister got home yer. (Beena did an overnight stint waiting at the WalMart for hot deals on TV’s for her boyfriend.) I told her I was also checking o see if the Tooth Fairy had left anything and Wow! Look! She did! Five bucks!

I was holding the tooth in the other hand.

Go back to sleep, kiddo. It’s too early. I’ll see you in a little bit.

I slunk downstairs feeling busted.

When MR got up, I told him I got caught. Maybe I talked my way out of it? Maybe she was still sleepy? He’s usually the Tooth Fairy- I’m obviously not good at this.

I am REALLY not good at this.

Zombiegirl called down to me asking me to come upstairs. I went up reluctantly. She patted the bed next to her, inviting me to sit. “If I ask you a question, will you answer it?” she asked?

“Depends on the question.” I said, biding my time.

(You know what’s coming, don’t you.)

“Are you the Tooth Fairy?” my little innocent 10-year old asked?

Since I can’t lie to my kids (they always know) I broke out into a grin, then tried to hide it. She looked up at me and I swear I saw a little flash of regret pass through her eyes before she laughed and said “I knew it! I was wondering what Daddy was doing up here last night. And why you were up here this morning!”

I asked her if she was okay with all that. She claimed she was. But she did get teary for a split second. As did I. This is the last time I’ll ever play the Tooth Fairy game with one of my own.

When she went downstairs, she greeted her dad with a “Hi, Tooth Fairy!” He looked at me with that same look of regret and sadness. Our little girl is growing up.

I’ve already prepped her for Christmas. Everyone knows if you don’t believe in Santa, you get less gifts…

Countdown to Christmas #1- Christmas Cards

2009-12-01T20:36:00.001-05:00

So here it is, December 1st. Twenty-four days until Christmas. What the hell happened? Last I checked there were 100 days left until Christmas! Crap. I am not ready for this.

Last night, I decided to try to post everyday on the blog something to do with Christmastime. Sorry Soulspeak…I know how much you’re going to hate this. Most of it will be ranting at the stupidity that usually overtakes people around this time. Meh! So what else is new- I’m ranting on my blog. But hey, that’s how I roll. I like to complain. Hopefully I won’t be a raving lunatic all the time. I want to get into the holiday spirit. I really do. I’m going to need it.

I started filling out our Christmas cards Sunday night. On my 101 in 1001 list I stated that I would make all our cards. I did an inventory of the box that’s been sitting under my cutting table in my sewing room all year and I found a pile of loose cards, as well as three boxes of cards I got half price last year after the holidays. I’m going to use the boxed cards up first before I make the rest. They’re too pretty to waste. The loose cards will go to Zombiegirl for her teachers and friends. (Thanks Rob and Mrs. Schiffman, for all the extra cards!)

I made my Christmas card list about a month ago as part of the 100 Days of Christmas countdown. I had to- my previous years list was lost in the third re-image of my computer, thank you little Facebook virus. As I typed in the names, I thought good and hard about how I felt about each person, or family, on my list then played like I was Freddie Kruger in Friday the 13th- SLASH, SLASH, SLASH.

The list was cut. Drastically.

I was the type of person who had over 100 people/families on my list. Just looking at that many people on that list left me tired and depressed. Not to mention the cost of mailing them! (By the way- St. Andrew’s does a nice thing. You can bring in your cards for families in the church and the ladies group will sort them out. You can pick up your bundle when you go to church on Christmas Eve!) I realized that I didn’t talk to more than half these people in the last few years- our only correspondence were cards at Christmas and more recently, Facebook. I’ve watched kids grow up over the years by pictures sent to us in cards.

SLASH, SLASH, SLASH. It’s getting bloody over here.

If I haven’t physically seen you or spoken to you in the last two years- you’re slashed.

If I’ve sent you a Christmas card in the past and I’ve never received one from you- you’re slashed.

If I haven’t seen your CHILD except in pictures you’ve sent at Christmas- you’re slashed.

If you didn’t come to my mom’s funeral- you’re slashed. (You know who you are…)

If any of my aunts or cousins have not called me or emailed me or written to me since Mom passed away…I get the hint (if that’s what’s up)- you’re slashed too.

(If that’s not the case, and you really “don’t do crowds”- I feel sorry for you, but you’re still slashed.)

Am I being harsh? Probably. Shallow and petty? Maybe. But honestly, if we can’t get together during the year, why should we have to catch up in a card? Isn’t sending me your kid’s picture or mailing a family newsletter MORE shallow and petty than actually picking up the phone or emailing to make a date? Lord knows- I’ve thrown out suggestions to MANY people over the years to get together. I love a party! I DO “do lunch!” I would love to meet your kids! Let’s get together and rekindle our friendship rather than send out phony “picture” cards and “family updates.” (Or worse- that blurry picture of your dog.) Remember the reason for the season. Reach out to someone you haven’t spoken to in awhile. Keep the Christmas spirit going all year long.

And I apologize if you got hit with the blood spatter.

First Day of Advent

2009-11-29T11:41:00.004-05:00

I love Advent.

The countdown to Christmas. The waiting for the Christ child. The hymns sung in anticipation. Blue is apparently the new purple- all the vestments and candles are now blue. Pastor described the color should be like that deep blue that occurs right before the first light of dawn appears. The color before the advent of the new day. I love that color, too.

O Come, O Come Emmanuel. All these years I wondered who this guy Emmanuel is.

Silly me. The translation of Emmanuel, or Immanuel, is "God with us." Isaiah 7:14 states "Therefore the Lord himself will give you a sign: The virgin will be with child and will give birth to a son, and will call him Immanuel." Many Christians believe that this is the prophecy of the coming of Christ. I will believe that Immanuel is Jesus, and we await his birth during advent.

Our church always has a kid play their instrument during the lighting of the advent candle. It always gives me goosebumps when that lone instrument plays while the acolyte struggles to light the candle on the huge wreath. Today Melissa played the flute, and was awesome. So good that I sought her out afterwards (she was one of my Youth Groupers a few years ago...now she's a Senior at the high school) to ask if she would be willing to tutor Z-girl after school in the flute. Just to give her that little extra besides her once a week lessons at the school.

While waiting for Melissa's "fans" to finish with her, I heard a most obnoxious thing...someone asked a gentlemen popular in the church where his wife was. He said she was home, doing ----, because this is the only time she has to herself. Wait, what? During church? She's a connected church member- she skipped church to do this stuff? I don't know, I've missed my share of church. But to run errands? Because it's the only time you have? Grrr....

This burns my butt. Just like the moms that tell me they can't do something because "I work". Or they couldn't help out because "I have three kids." Damn! I have three kids AND I work. AND I find time to go to church. I MUST be superwoman! Next feat- able to leap tall buildings. And sing hymns while I'm doing it!

Letter to Heaven

2009-11-25T07:06:00.006-05:00

Dear Mom,

Usually my correspondence with you is a quick, fleeting thought about how much I miss you, or yes, sometimes cursing you for leaving us with so many memories of you.

Today I wanted to sit and let you and my little blog world know what happened this weekend.

It's November. While you were alive November and December were the months I saw you the most and was closest to you. The craft fairs, the Cookie Exchange, Christmas and all the planning in between- we saw and talked to each other often. We did the St. Thomas fair together and then the St. Andrew's fair right afterwards. I guess it was a good idea I didn't do the St. Thomas fair (shame on you, Catholic church and St. Thomas PTA- you know what I'm talking about...) because the St. Andrew's fair was hard. Very hard.

Dad had given me the rest of your crafts to sell and donated your Christmas earrings to the soccer girls to sell for their fundraising. They worked so hard on their crafts- many of the materials came from you (the angel pins and the bead and lace ornaments.) One of the things I heard over and over from the kids as I taught them how to make these things was "how do you know how to do this?" And I told them honestly that Zombiegirl's grandma taught me how.

You've taught me so much, Mom.

Their table was packed full of things to sell! And the girls were polite in dealing with the public even if they couldn't figure out how to make change. But not your granddaughter. She made change like a pro. She's been tagging along to so many craft sales that she ran my whole table for me, leaving me time to catch up with my church friends (Joni- black? Really? I don't understand...) and to watch over the soccer girls. My table was full of tutus and MR's carvings and your crafts.

You sold the rest of your beautifully soft scarves. I love these scarves. The gray and white one you made me got me through all the tears from last year. Haley and Kendal fought over that bright blue one, and Kendal finally ended up with it. And she wore it the next night at the soccer awards. It made me so proud! Almost all of your earrings went as well as your two string mooses! You've had those guys for years! Always turning up at the bottom of the bag, never to be sold. Now they're finally in a good home. Everything was going well at the fair until I opened this one little plastic bag tucked under some paper.

Your birthstone angels.

You worked so hard on your angels. You fretted about the colors of each bead, trying to get them to match the birthstone exactly. You spent hours at the fair untangling the string to hang them on the display case in month order. Every year you had four or five of each month to sell.

There were about 12 left in the bag. You never had the time to make more.

My first impulse was to hang them up and put them out to sell. But I couldn't. They were too special to me. I didn't want to keep all of them, either, so I offered one to each of the soccer girls that were there and to their little siblings. They marveled at them- they were so beautiful! Thank you, Soo! One of the moms questioned why I was giving them out and I told them they were yours and I wanted the girls to have a piece of you. She started getting all choked up and then I lost it.

I had been fine all day. Seeing those angels though made me realize how much I miss your awesomeness. My loss made me cry, right there, at the craft table. You would have hated that…

Mom, how often did I tell you that I thought you were talented? How often did I tell you how much I admired you? How often did I tell you how much I loved you?

Probably not enough.

You infuriated me to no end. Your stubbornness and personality continuously clashed with mine. I had to “learn” how to deal with you. But your creativity and talent was always admired- I know sitting with you as a kid taught me how to craft, bake, decorate cakes and sew. I should have told you more how much you were appreciated. Your ego could have used a little more stroking. You were truly talented and very generous. I could only hope to be like you in that respect.

So now we come to the holidays. Christmas was your holiday. Every year you had everyone over at your house- it was the only time of the year I saw my cousins- and you always decorated, using your collection of Three Wise Men and all the elves. I turned to your countless times on advice on baking and relied on you for the games for the Cookie Party. How to cook a ham. To sew manager costumes for the girls. To remember the name of a certain hymn.

How will I get through December without you?

I know now what you felt like when Robbie died a week before Christmas 20 years ago. How you resented the holidays for years afterwards. But you bounced back for the girls and made Christmas your own again. I know I have to stay strong for the girls and Daddy and make Christmas special. But I’m not sure I can make it through the preparations without your guiding hand and advice readily available on the other end of the phone. I’m not sure how to deal with the other loss in my life this Christmas. I’m really not ready for this…

So I just wanted to say thanks, Mom. For the beads, lace, stuffing, earrings, scarves and angels. But mostly for being the creative inspiration in my life. I owe that all to you. And as for celebrating Christmas, we’ll muddle through the best we can and see you in all the sparkly and twinkly stuff.

Because we know how much you liked the sparkly stuff.

Happy Thanksgiving, Mom. I miss you.

Siren Song

2009-11-19T07:02:00.002-05:00

I was out on the prowl down by the edge of the track
And like a son of a jackel I'm a leader of the pack-but
Every Saturday night
I felt the fever grow
Do ya know what it's like
All revved up with no place to go
Do ya know what it's like
All revved up with no place to go

I was nothing but a lonely all-American boy
Looking out for something to do
And you were nothing but a lonely all-American girl…..

The sound came out of nowhere. It started as a growl in the center of my chest, vibrating me to the core. Then came the awful screech of the siren, drowning out Meatloaf playing on my iPod, even though it was cranked up high. The noise was awful- so bad it stopped me in my tracks and forced me to put my hands over my ears. I felt like I had to escape- I had to run to get away- the sound had enveloped me completely. I hurried across the street, narrowly missing be hit by a police car. I’m sure he understood why I was crouched over with my hands over my ears running across two lanes of traffic. Anyone would have heard this god-awful screech even with their windows rolled up and the radio on.

I though of that poor baby that lives in the house that I passed when this noise started up. I know there are young ones in that little apartment- the baby slide and the kiddy pool are leaning up against the fence and the little electric Hummer is always parked outside the door. I wanted to cry while the siren was going off. I can’t imagine how the children react when it goes off.

I was walking right underneath the fire siren.

I thought my ears were going to bleed.

A block later I was still shaking and I had goose bumps until I got to the train station.

Why do these things still exist? In this modern world of cell phones, pagers and Bluetooth, why would anyone think these things are going to alert a volunteer firefighter and get him out of bed? Isn’t there any other way to alert these brave souls? In researching, I’ve come across actual arguments for the siren like “Cell phones cost money and not all volunteers can afford a cell phone.” I don’t know anyone that doesn’t have a cell phone. And they’re not expensive anymore. A pay-as-you-go phone would certainly suffice. “They need the siren because the volunteer might not have their cell phone on or near them.” Please. Spare me. If the volunteer is dumb enough not to have their phone nearby just in case, they don’t belong in the volunteer corps. “A siren lets the neighborhood know there’s an emergency.” And WHY would the neighborhood have to know this? Unless the fire is at your house, or your neighbors house there is really no reason for the rest of the neighborhood to know. What is one going to do- go look for the fire?

I think these things are outdated and can actually cause permanent damage to those who live near/underneath them. I know it shook me up enough to actually blog about it.

But you were something like a dream come true.
I was a varsity tackle and a hell of a block
And when I played my guitar
I made the canyons rock, but
But every Saturday Night
I felt the fever grow
All revved up with no place to go
All revved up with no place to go
All revved up with no place to go
All revved up with no place to go
All revved up with no place to go

Results Not Typical

2009-11-17T06:43:00.002-05:00

So I had my final evaluation last Thursday with Mike the trainer. I'm a little late posting. Other crap weighed heavily on my mind. So.

After two and a months of training twice a week (usually when I didn’t cancel) I got measured and weighed and did some stamina exercises to measure heart rate and strength.

I was pleasantly surprised.

Let me first start off by saying if you know me, and love me, you probably won’t see a difference in my body shape. And you won’t say so, either. And I thank you for that. When I joined the gym I was looking not only to lose weight but also to start a healthy habit of exercise. I’m over 40! I don’t want to look like my mom did! I don’t want Bingo wings! I want to look like I did at 20! (um. Right.) I knew I needed to get off my ass and start an exercise program not only to get back my 20-year-old body (which I know is improbable and impossible) but to boost my metabolism and cardio so I could live a longer, more productive life.

And to fit into those jeans in my bottom drawer.

I looked at pictures of myself at our last camping trip and I was disgusted and depressed with myself. When I got home that was when I made up my mind to get my butt to the gym. I knew I would need help with some of the machines and I knew a personal trainer was the way to go.

Enter Mike. And the torture that followed.

Never at the gym. I sweat, panted and strained but it never felt like torture. Most of the time I laughed when it got too hard because it was a good feeling getting my muscles moving again. The torture came the days after a workout- those days where I couldn’t lift my legs to walk up the steps to the subway. Or get out of my chair at work. Or sit on the toilet. Those times were torture.

But it was worth it.

My numbers weren’t stellar, but for the resistance training that I did (twice a week) and for all the walking around the neighborhood, they were okay. I lost 1/2’ to 3/4” everywhere except my boobs. That was probably due to the padded bra. (I couldn’t find the sports bra…) I gained 2% lean mass and lost 2% fat mass. I gained 1 pound, but that reflects the lean mass gain (muscle weighs more than fat.) I went from doing 8 pushups to 18. I went from 31 situps to 44. My strength is definitely better than when I started.

Mike agreed that my numbers were encouraging. He said for me to imagine if I DIDN’T do all that training. I probably wouldn’t even be maintaining my weight and body index- it would be creeping up. My next step is to bump up the cardio (HELLO ELLIPTICAL MACHINE!) and maintain the two days a week resistance/strength training.

So how do I feel about all this? I can see an improvement in my body shape. My clothes fit better; they feel better. They’re not as suffocatingly tight. I know, I know- wear bigger clothes. Buying new clothes, though, is not an option. Fitting into the clothes I have is the solution.

I am well on my way to fitting into those jeans. I can get them on over my hips but zippering them is another story.

Update! I had my first "non-Mike" session at the gym yesterday! I did 8 minutes on the elliptical, 12 minutes on the treadmill and 10 minutes on the recumbent bike, for a total of 30 minutes. Go me.

Monday Tidbits

2009-11-15T22:18:00.005-05:00

It's crunch time. The craft sale is one week away and I've been sewing, gluing, tying, and cutting like crazy to get things done. Not only am I working on my stuff for my table, I'm also organizing and finishing the crafts for Zombiegirl's soccer team.

I had this bright idea for the girls to get together and make crafts for St. Andrew's Holiday Fair. They have a bunch of tournaments coming up. We can offset the cost of the tourneys by raising some money by selling our crafts. Bright idea, right?

Next time I have a bright idea like this, someone smack me.

Mistake number one- trying to teach fourteen non-crafty girls to make things that are nice enough to sell. Girls who are growing up in the video age. Girls who can't sit still long enough to even listen to instructions- they are athletes, after all. Girls who think snacking is more important than doing the work. Some of them get it, and others...need more time. And... I'll admit it... I don't have the patience I used to have when I was a Girl Scout leader/Sunday School Teacher. But we're having fun though. I think what's most important is not only raising money for the team but the camaraderie the girls are sharing. They're going to be on the same team for the next few years- they have to get along off the field as well as on the field. So sitting around a table tying pillows while gabbing is a good thing.

If I don't have to do the pillows over...BECAUSE they're gabbing.

These are some of the things we've/I've/Ronnie's made so far...

Fleece hats for kids. With fringe and without. Some with scarves.
Christmas wreath pins (lace and beads)
Candy cane ornaments (lace and beads)
Ribbon angel pins
God's eyes ornaments/gift trim
Clothespin reindeer ornaments/gift trim
Fleece accent pillows in a soccer print
Chocolate lollipops
Cookie jar mixes
Mesh ribbon boxes
Christmas CD's

On Thursday, the moms are going to get together and make Oreo Turkeys. Yes, wine will be served, thankfully. My dad also donated the Christmas earrings that Mom made as well as the plastic tablecloth hairbows she used to sell. The lace and bead stuff she donated to the Girl Scouts, but Ronnie donated them back. So we should have a pretty full table.

I just hope they sell something.

I spent almost seven hours finishing off fleece hats on Saturday night. I never want to see another hat again.

Mistake number two? Thinking I'd actually get some cooperation from the families. I totally understand that the girls have so much to do besides school, but we tried to make it easy and have the crafting sessions after right after practice. I understand that the kids have other weekly commitments. But some of the other excuses we've gotten are unbelievable! We have 28 parents involved with the team, AND various grandparents (thanks Stan, Jeannette and Bob!) I like the majority of these parents and consider alot of them friends. But the same parents help out week after week.

So where is everyone else?

We're not asking for EVERYONE to show up each and every week. We craft for an hour/hour and a half each week and occasionally when the girls have a day off. Jodi's next door neighbor has shown up to help out more than some of these parents. MR even stayed yesterday and tied pillows with us. I just don't get it. We're trying to put money into these families pockets so they don't have to pay out for tournaments and trainings. Some parents are there EVERY WEEK and then there are some parents that we haven't seen yet. WTF?

And if I hear one more time "But I work full time!" I'm going to puke.

Still, it's not as bad as when I was a Girl Scout leader. Those parents never did shit.

Okay, enough ranting. I'm not going to change people's nature. I know what I do and I can go to sleep at night knowing I did everything possible for my daughter and her team. I don't know why I get so enraged. I suppose it could be worse, right?

So...mistake number three? Waiting until the last minute (week) to finish up MY stuff. Why do I procrastinate? I know I work better under pressure, but why do I do this to myself? My sewing room is a mess so I'm tempted to organize my fabric, or pull out all the lace. I have to stop myself and concentrate on finishing up stuff for my table.

Some stuff I'm selling?

Tutus
Princess wands
Princess crowns
Key chain wristlets
Felt fruit and vegetables
Tote bags
Angel magnetic cards
Dishtowel angels

Add to that MR's wood cut outs and we should also have a pretty full table, too.

I just hope I sell something!

And yes, I did all this with a full-on migraine on Saturday. When it finally broke Saturday night it was like the weight of the world lifted off my head. I had a headache Sunday morning (missed church) but I took a cat nap and it went away...

What else happened this weekend?

The Panthers lost 3-2 in the rain and wind we had Saturday. My Uggs are ruined.
I followed Flylady's method of cleaning the kitchen. Got most of it done except the floors. I need to get one of those floor cleaning things. Um...what is it called? Oh. A mop.
Zombiegirl and I made pumpkin pies. She had a craving. If I can get her to eat it, it'll be the first thing in days practically. She has no appetite. I'm guessing it's from the flu, but if she doesn't start eating it's back to the doctor.
I watched part of my first non-professional hockey game. Fifteen year old boys. And it was just as exciting as an Islander game. Thanks Hailey, Kathy and Brandon!
I made apple butter in the crock pot. And applesauce. With black chai tea flavor. Oooh. Yummy.
I cleaned out my produce drawer and stir fried everything. I used the Vanilla Fig Balsamic Vinegar we bought at the summer craft sale in East Quogue. More yummy. I froze individual portions so I can take it to work.

All in all, it was a productive yet infuriating weekend. And exhausting. I can't wait to get back to work...

The Almighty Google

2009-11-11T22:15:00.003-05:00

I hate large corporations. Even though I work for one, I’m compartmentalized, so sometimes I forget that my company is huge.

I’m a fan of the little guy.

The Mom and Pop shops.

The underdog.

When a company or a TV celebrity gets too big, I lose interest. I loved Rachel Ray when she was a chubster doing the 30 Minute Meals or $40 a Day shows on the Food Network. When she started adding more shows then ultimately her own talk-show, I stopped being a fan. Even when we went to see a taping of her show (and our friend Amanda starred in a segment) I wasn’t thrilled. Even less so since I saw how fake and phony and planned everything is. Not to mention Rachel’s not-so-warm personality. I felt she really jumped the shark when they started selling her "garbage bowl" on the Food Network.

Once you develop your own “brand”, it’s over for me.

Ree Drummond, of PioneerWoman.com fame, is another example of my interest waning really quickly. I followed her blog daily, and even turned my friends on to her site. But again, she grew too big for MY britches. She’s got a gazillion fierce ~~lemmings~~ followers and she’s put out a cookbook, and I foresee a TV show in the making (based on her appearance on Bonnie Hunt recently, I hope not. She doesn’t have the personality.) There are other reasons why I fell out of like with Ree, but that’s not the point I’m trying to make here. When you’re married to the richest cattle rancher in your state, you have the disposable income to do basically whatever you want. And she’s doing just that- she’s buying herself a “brand.”

I try to patronize smaller neighborhood stores and restaurants whenever I can. I’d rather go to my local Indian restaurant where the owner knows us than to a TGIFriday’s or Chili’s. I’d rather go to the Pioneer Food Mart than to Stop & Shop. S&S is huge, and I get tired walking the store. They have things the Pioneer doesn’t carry (soy products and organics) but to run into a store for milk and bread? I pick the Pioneer. I hate the fact that I hold my mortgage with the third biggest bank in the U.S. I would much rather bank with a smaller bank, but hey, I got a lower rate with the big company. Sometimes it’s unavoidable. But it doesn’t mean I have to like it.

I make two exceptions. One, a series of books that have risen to astronomical proportions and two, an internet search engine. I speak of Harry Potter and Google.

My mom bought my oldest kids the first Harry Potter books when they first came out. She knew they were readers so when she saw the book in Costco, she picked up one for each of them. Little did anyone know six months later Harry Potter would be a household name and cultural phenomenon. Six books and six movies later I still love everything Harry Potter. I don’t begrudge J.K. Rowling her fame and fortune because she DIDN’T SELL OUT. She kept true to her promise of seven years at Hogwart’s, loves her readers as much as they love her, and didn’t forsake the writing for profit. I love HP so much, I’ve consented to have a Hogwart’s birthday party for Zombiegirl in March.

The other exception is Google. For me, Google is not only a search engine- it’s a lifeline to information. I must use Google at least 30 times a day to search for pictures, blogs, items to buy or just info. Google is also my blog engine and my email platform. Google’s Youtube is where I watch funny videos or full length movies. Google Earth lets me spy on my boss and my neighbors. Google Calendar helps me keep track of birthdays and scheduling things like cleaning, meal plans and soccer games. I store recipes I find in my travels online in folders I create in Gmail. Vegetables, Meat, Cookies, Desserts, Sides...every recipe that I can email gets sent to my Gmail account for filing into a folder. It’s a good day when I log onto Google and I see the logo has a new design commemorating that day. Plus you can get great skins for your iGoogle homepage- right now I have a Dale Chihuly skin right above my horoscope, Gmail, weather, Calendar and Quote of the Day boxes.

Google is huge, and I love it. And it was started by two grad students in a garage.

Google also gives back to the community and the world. And yet another reason to love them.

And then there's this. I. Want. Now.

So those of you who comment anonymously on my blog- go get a Gmail account. I want to know who you are!

This blog was not endorsed in anyway by Google or their subsidiaries. The author of this blog happens to be a Google fan and would tout Google’s awesomeness to anyone who’ll listen…

Results Not Typical

2009-11-10T18:41:00.002-05:00

I haven’t posted my last months workouts with Mike here because my company blocked Blogger on the internet. I thought I had to wait until I got home to post and by then I had forgotten what I did at 5:30 that morning. Then I had the brilliant idea to blog at work, using Microsoft Word, send it home via email, and post at night. Unfortunately since I had this brainstorm (duh!) I had forgotten what I did during my workout.

One memorable event at the gym these past few weeks…I was able to do more than 3 minutes on the Elliptical machine. Mike figured out that I was using it on an incline. If I decreased the incline to 1, I can go forever without my knees killing me. That alone was worth the price of Mike.

Mike tells me today we’re going to do the TRX workout. This workout was developed by Navy Seals who, while deployed, searched for ways to stay in peak condition while inside warehouses, urban safe-houses, ships and inside submarines. Navy Seals. And me. Riiight.

I’ve worked minutely on these straps before- just basic pull ups with my body at a 45 degree angle. Today we worked exclusively on the straps.

And now, I can’t move.

Pull ups, push ups, lunges, scissor kicks, squats, curls- all done with the straps. I was a giant sweaty mess when we finished. And when I got home, I sat on the couch and promptly fell asleep. When I woke up, I literally could not get up. Everything on my body was achy and stiff. For the FIRST TIME I’ve been training with Mike, I feel like I’ve worked every part of my body. I couldn’t walk up the stairs to get to the 1 train.

And it was the last training session. I get evaluated on Thursday.

Mike, thanks for pushing me and being my inspiration to get up in the morning. And on Thursday? Could you give me that TRX training sheet? I need to do this workout more often...

Dear Stop & Shop

2009-11-09T21:14:00.003-05:00

This is a letter I sent to Stop & Shop via email...

Dear Stop& Shop Decision Makers:

I love your store (West Hempstead # 2552), really, I do. You’ve given me a (small) selection of soy products- cream cheese, yogurt and milk when I asked. You even have a whole aisle of healthy, natural choices that appeal to my vegetarian organic side. Your produce is fresh and plentiful.

You made shopping easier (and fun!) with the handheld self-checkout device. You’ve even partnered with my daughter’s school for bonus bucks! Very admirable, dear Stop & Shop.

But you confuse me.

Yesterday, I picked up a bottle of your brand “Clear Splash Naturally Flavored Raspberry Blackberry Sparkling Water Beverage.” It was on an end cap- it was a total impulse item. I think to myself – this sounds delicious! It’s sugar free, sodium free, calorie free, caffeine free- everything you would want in a “water beverage,” right? I couldn’t wait to try it.

Whoa. Way too sweet.

Sweet? How can that be? Zero calories, zero fat, it’s water…how can this taste so sweet?

I check the ingredients…carbonated water (ok), citric acid (ok), potassium citrate (ok), aspartame (o…what?)

Aspartame? In sparkling water? Are you kidding? I’m drinking DIET WATER?

What are you thinking, dear Decision Makers? Putting this poison into a “water beverage” to sweeten it up? I wanted WATER. With a little FLAVOR. I didn’t want a sugary, cloying sweet soft drink laced with poison- if I wanted that, I would’ve grabbed a Diet Coke (okay, not really).

Please rethink your decision to continue making this product in this fashion. I want to check out the other flavors, but I’m pretty sure what I’ll find. I’ll probably find I won’t be buying this product again, and telling all my friends not to buy it either.

Thanks for listening to your customers.

Sincerely,

Me. (I signed my real name when I sent this to Stop & Shop)

Glittery Stuff

2009-11-09T06:55:00.005-05:00

Hi Interwebs friends! Long time no see... or type. This is so hard trying to post from home. Like I have nothing else to do. Add posting on my blog to the list of crap I have to do but never find the time to finish. Like this weekend. We had great big plans for completing tons of stuff this weekend. And what happened? We all got sick. Zombiegirl and MR came down with H1N1, Z-girl on Thursday and MR right behind her on Saturday. I had a sobbing migraine- one that left me crying like a baby- make it go away- all Sunday morning. And I got my period Saturday. All these ingredients make for a lost weekend sitting in front of the TV with everyone feeling sorry for themselves.

This probably explains why I was bitchy to a dear friend last night.

As some of you know, Zombiegirl's travel team is trying to raise some cash for tournaments and training. I had the bright (?) idea of getting the girls together weekly and making things for the upcoming Holiday Fair at St. Andrew's. It's been working out pretty well- the team is bonding as friends, they're doing crafts, which they love to do, and we might actually make a little money to put into the team account. So last night we're making fleece hats. They came out adorable!(Come and buy one on the 22nd...) Amanda and I are talking while I'm fixing last week's craft and she's gluing crosses for God's Eyes.

Amanda is reading Twilight by Stephanie Meyer.

I saw red. I hate all things Twilight.

Amanda was excited- she's not a reader, but she's reading the book on the recommendation of one of her friends, and she's really into it. She likes the love story and claims it's hot. She's not alone in this opinion. Search "Cullen" in Google and you'll get all sorts of gushy websites devoted to Edward. Teenage girls and grown women are wetting their pants for vampires who get all glittery.

I want to throw up.

I'll start my rant by saying I did read Twilight. It was a vampire book, so of course I've read it. I've been reading vampire books since Interview with the Vampire by Anne Rice twelve years ago. Vamps have become very popular in the last few years. Vampire as lover has always been a theme or trait in books and movies. If you're a vampire, you NEED to get close to your victim in order to suck their blood. So what better was than to seduce them? But vampires as Harlequin romance books rubs me the wrong way.

Vampires aren't glittery. They're dead. Dead don't glitter.

That's not the only problem I had with Mrs. Meyer's book. I thought her writing was immature and a little childish. Her dialogue is stilted. Her characters are shallow and not developed. I thought to myself more than once- get to the point already!- while I was reading it. I had already started with Twilight while her next two books were already out. And I have been told that her writing matures as the books go on. But I've also been told that she's introduced the age old struggle between werewolves and vampires. Gee. Where have I read that before? Only Laurell K. Hamilton's books, and the Black Dagger Brotherhood books. I'm sure I'm missing a few, too.

I know these were meant to be teen novels, and I really don't begrudge Mrs. Meyer her success. I think I expected more with all the hype, and I just think there's SO much better out there. I feel if you're going to write a love story using vampires, you better have some nasty killing going on. Not races through the woods and sparkly love scenes. But then- to each his own. I like blood with my vampires. Amanda doesn't. And for that, I owe her an apology for getting all bitchy on her. Sorry, sweetie. Didn't mean to spoil your fun with fiction!

Don't mind me. I'm grumpy. Again.

I Always Feel Like...Somebody's Watching Me

2009-11-05T19:05:00.005-05:00

Hi Internet Friends! Whoops, sorry. Speak softly, they might hear you. Eesh- I'm typing too loud. Type quietly, Mamasoo. You never know who might be watching. Or listening.

Like maybe, um, my company?

They've blocked blogger.com so I can't post from work.

They're taking the fun out of working.

Now, when my routines are running (and running, and running) I'll go out for a smoke. Except I don't smoke. So I'll go downstairs for coffee. Or tea. Or ~~donuts~~ salad. Or maybe I'll clean my office. Or run up 37 flights of stairs. I certainly can't work because the program gums everything up EXCEPT the internet.

But I'll find something to do.

Like write my blog on Word, send it home and copy and paste into Blogger at night. Ha! More than one way to skin a cat, Corporate Toads!

Stay tuned...

Mirror, Mirror on the Wall

2009-11-04T10:23:00.003-05:00

I had a minor scare this morning. You know the feeling- when you see something terrifying and your heart speeds up, your body goes cold but you start to sweat and you feel like you need to pee. All in a split second. That's how I felt this morning.

Everyone has a morning routine. Basically, potty, shower, dress, brush. Add a few more for those energetic morning people- coffee, exercise, read the paper, sex, put on makeup, feed the pets, do a load of laundry. Yes, I do some of those additional things. But only on Tuesday and Thursday. When I go to exercise. At the gym.

Part of my morning routine is my examination. After I potty, then weigh myself, I examine my big bad self in the full length mirror while I wait for the shower to heat up. When the mirror fogs over, I'm done. Usually I want the mirror to fog over quickly. Very quickly. But I can usually get done what needs to get done in before that happens. Everything that needs to be plucked, squeezed, scratched, popped and flossed gets done before I head into the shower. And as my family can attest, I love to examine. Not a pimple goes unpopped. Not a blackhead goes unsqueezed. Not a flap of skin gets unpicked. (Grossed out yet?) I even have a face for it. My kids call it my "picky face". Don't ask me to do it, I can't on demand. But give me a splinter to pick out or a toenail to cut and you'll see it. There is a psychological name for my disorder, but I'm not going to look it up because then that's diagnosing and that means I need more therapy. So I'll just keep my picking and prodding and poking to myself. And I guess with you.

Anywho, I was doing my examination this morning and I turned around so I could look at my back. I felt something there when I was sleeping and the thought of popping a zit on my back was exciting. (I know....) I looked up my back and for a split second saw something dark and sinister. My first thought? A skin cancerous lesion. I went cold and hot and my heart sped up and stopped all in a moment before I realized what I was looking at.

My tattoo. I had forgotten it was back there. For a second I thought I was looking at cancer. For a split second my death loomed up at me.

I guess it's a good thing my tat is where it's at. It would give me one more thing to obsess over.

Yesterday my morning routine was rudely interrupted. Potty, weigh, examine, (so far, so good)shower, throw up. Didn't even make it to "dry off."

I got a migraine in the shower and by the time I was done, it was full blown. Usually it takes a half an hour to blossom into a full blown migraine. This was less than 10 minutes. I tried taking my pills and got partially dressed before I threw up the pills, so I went back to bed and stayed there all day. Watching back-to-back episodes of Tabitha's Salon Takeover. And catnapping when the family and dogs allowed. I've still got the remnants of a headache and general wooziness but I'm going to the chiropractor after work for an adjustment. I hope that helps and knocks this one out.

Tell me about your morning routines. Anything interesting? Make me jealous.

Dreamscape #4

2009-11-02T12:01:00.005-05:00

I quietly leave my house [the house I grew up in] in the middle of the night and walk down the block to the Corrado's house [they live no where near my old house. The house they "lived" in was actually my old neighbor's house- at least from the outside.] I let myself in since they never lock their doors and walk softly up the winding stairs to the parent's bedroom. I comment to myself that their carpet is a hideous pink color then enter the room. I stand over them while they sleep, both boys sprawled across them as they lay under the covers. I stay a few minutes, then quickly walk back downstairs, marvelling that anyone who would cover over baseboard heating with carpet was an idiot. I walk back home and wake up my kids.

They pester me to skateboard and roller skate, so in the dark I sit on the grass and watch them zoom up and down the street. After a few minutes, I told them it was time to go. They throw the skateboard and roller skates onto the stoop and we walk down the block to the Corrado's house again.

We let ourselves in and walk quietly (as quietly as kids can walk) up the stairs, back into the pink room. We stand over them as they sleep, then Zombiegirls whispers (as quietly as kids can whisper) "aww, they look so cute!", at which time the eldest Corrado boy stirs and wakes up. "What are you doing here?" he asks, at which time his mother stirs and his father wakes up. We scoop up the sleepy child and we all run down the stairs (which have miraculously transformed into beautiful light oak stairs with black wrought iron railings with small green ivy trailing down into the stairwell.) We run out the front door and down the block back toward home and deposit the child on the next-door neighbor's lawn. He crawls under the pine tree, sticks his finger in his mouth (he's 7...) and goes back to sleep. My kids grab their gear and start rolling up and down the street again, while we anxiously await his parents to come look for him.

They don't.

We go inside and leave him under the tree to live.

Dreamscape #3

2009-11-01T20:43:00.002-05:00

La nuit dernière j'ai fait un rêve. Une voix dans ma tête, me disait d'apprendre le français. Je n'arrêtais pas de demander la voix "Pourquoi?" et il n'arrêtait pas de dire de ne pas s'inquiéter, juste apprendre à parler français. Obtenez les bandes pierre de Rosette et d'apprendre à parler français.

Puis, mon corps se mit à sonner dans les et dites-moi j'ai besoin de boire plus d'eau. Utilisez la bouteille Earthlust acier inoxydable et de boire de l'eau toute la journée.

Je me suis réveillé très soif et essayer de conjuguer les verbes en français.

Sometimes I scare myself.

A Man and A Goat

2009-10-31T21:44:00.003-04:00

I get these email updates from Scott Towels at work- little tips for cleaning, housekeeping- tips to make life easier. Friday's tip was interesting...to kill weeds, spray a mixture of vinegar, water and dish detergent on them daily until they're dead. That got me to thinking about killing all the poison ivy at the beach house. I did a quick Internet search for "vinegar kill poison ivy" and got quite a few hits. Seems the vinegar/dish detergent/water mixture will also kill poison ivy- without all the chemicals.

This is good news.

Anyone who knows me knows I am VERY susceptible to poison ivy. To kill it without chemicals also soothes my greener side. I can't wait to try it.

While surfing the net, I found another sure fire way to kill poison ivy.

Get a goat.

Nigerian Dwarf, Angora and Spanish goats love to eat poison ivy, and will even climb on steep slopes to eat it. They'll also eat honeysuckle (which we're overrun with, but Zombiegirl takes care of eating that.) Goats are very popular these days. Fainting goat videos have gone viral. Z-girl cracks up watching these videos, and says before she dies she wants to see a fainting goat. And there's a new movie starring George Clooney, Jeff Bridges and Ewan McGregor called The Men Who Stare at Goats.

So MR and I were lying in bed last night and I told him about the goats.

Me: The goats will eat all the poison ivy at the beach house. We should so get a goat.

MR: A goat.

Me: Yes! An Angora goat! And the goat'll also give us wool. Angora! We can make sweaters!

MR: A goat.

Me: Yes! (I'm starting to get frustrated with his lack of enthusiasm.)

MR: Will it be a girl goat?

Me: ?

MR: I'll have to meet her, first.

[snort] I looked at him, and he looked at me, and we both cracked up.

Happy Birthday, Beena!

2009-10-30T11:19:00.009-04:00

I was in labor for approximately seven hours. I was a little worried the whole time because my doctor had a reputation for being a "cutter." The last thing I wanted was a C-Section. My mom told me I had nothing to worry about- these hips were MADE for having babies!

So at 4:37 p.m., with no drugs, minimal episiotomy and MUCHO pushing, a nine pound 21-1/2 inch BEENA was brought into this world. This kid had long hair and really long fingernails. I guess that's what happens when you're 10 days late. And I guess that's why I had so much heartburn- the hair "tickled" me. Gotta love the old-wives tales...

So. Here we are 21 years later. And I've got something to say to my eldest daughter.

Beena-

You were our Beanie Baby before they were even invented. When you were born, you scared the crap out of me- I was a new mom, inexperienced with babies of any kind. Thank goodness for your Grandma and Pop-pop. They helped us out caring for you and helped fix up your beautiful little room. The day after you were born (Halloween) the nurses in the hospital spiked your hair up so you looked like a little punk rocker. Nothing could have been furthest from the truth. You were a princess from Day One. No wonder you love Disney!

You always had a quick smile, one that would crinkle up your eyes. You were silly and carefree as a child. Until we took away your Binkie. Then we saw the devil in you. But it was okay- you were still adorable.

You went through so much. Your migraines, your medication, your braces, your expanders, your patches, your glasses. I don't remember you ever breaking down and making too much of a fuss. You took it all pretty much in stride. Even the divorce- you seemed like you accepted being shuttled from one house (ours) to another (Grandma's and Pop-Pop's) to another (your dad's.) You were my calm in my storm. With a great personality to match. Right? Right. Begub. Begub. Begub.

In school you always did well, and was always responsible. Do you remember me marching you around the house to your spelling words? Teachers never had one complaint about you and you were always willing to help out. You even followed in my footsteps and started teaching Sunday School at 16. Is that where you learned to love teaching and children?

You were my right hand at the party place. You were only 14, but you were running the business as if it were your own. The kids loved you. If it weren't for you, there would be no dancing and games at the parties. I was front end, you were back end. I felt terrible being so disorganized- it put you at a disadvantage. I only hope my poor business sense didn't rub off on you. You were truly amazing and I wanted nothing more than to leave that business to you.

Your relationship with Zombiegirl is amazing. I am truly blessed that you two get along so well. She looks up to you and takes in everything you say. Now that she is maturing, she has her own opinions, and her opinion of you is VERY high. She loves hanging with her big sis. And I love you for taking care of your little sis.

You've grown so much the last few years. You've matured and grown into a woman I am proud to call my daughter. Who else would get a tattoo with their mom? Mandee's is lucky to have you. Adelphi is lucky to have you. John is lucky to have you. And we- your Dad, Kelsey and I are lucky to have you.

Happy Birthday, Kristina. I love you and am SO proud of you!

I Remember it Like it was Yesterday

2009-10-29T13:21:00.004-04:00

I remember exactly what I was doing 21 years ago today. I was out on Maternity Leave from my first architectural job, patiently waiting for my first-born to show up. It's about ten days late at this point. No matter, though. I'm busy. I have lots to do.

I was the Superintendent of Sunday School for my church, St. Barnabas Lutheran. I had no kids in Sunday School, but I had been a teacher since I was 16, so it was only natural that when the previous Super "retired" I would step in and take her place. I say "retired" because really, can one retire from a volunteer job? And if memory serves correctly, we kind of forced her out- she wasn't really on the ball when it came to running the Sunday School. Big deal, you say? It's once a week on Sunday, learning about Jesus. Yes, but it was a very large Sunday School and she wasn't ordering the materials or doing any of the admin work required. So I usurped her and ended up doing fun stuff like holding a carnival.

On October 30th we were going to have the first Carnival! Since it would be the day before Halloween, all the kids were invited to wear their costumes and come and play games of chance and try for this ENORMOUS teddy bear we were raffling off. Kathy (my best friend at the time and Assistant Superintendent) and I made all the games- bean bag toss, fishing, knock 'em down- about 12 games in all. It was going to be held in the basement of the church. I spent all day today, 21 years ago, up on a ladder hanging streamers and crawling around on the floor placing tape for the games. Kathy realized we didn't have tickets so we went shopping after dinner to Green Acres- Dennison's- and bought tickets and some more prizes.

The basement looked awesome! It was colorful and happy. Our friends were going to run the booths. We had bought the prizes in a wholesale warehouse out in Babylon-stuffed animals, penny prizes, a whole bag of them. I really think this was start of my love of party planning- and I didn't even have kids yet!

I was exhausted by the time we got home. It was really late. My feet hurt from carrying around that extra 25 pounds of baby weight. My back was sore. I didn't mind though- I was 25 years old, in good shape and totally excited for the next day. I went to bed drained, but happy.

At around 3:00 am, I woke up with really bad back pains. They would come and go sporadically. They weren't steady; if they were I would have suspected labor pains. But I didn't think I was in labor- I had things to do!

By 8:00 am they started coming faster and harder. My then-husband called the doctor and it was suggested that I go to the hospital, which was in Syosset, about 45 minutes away. I called Kathy and broke the news to her that I wouldn't be at the carnival and she would have to run it herself. Later I found out how annoyed she was.

To be continued tomorrow...

Zombiegirl in Zombieland

2009-10-28T09:43:00.004-04:00

It's no surprise to any of our friends that our daughter, affectionately named Zombiegirl, is a little bit of a freak. I owe all her freakiness to my husband, MR. He's been spoon feeding her horror flicks since she was in Kindergarten. She loves zombies, vampires, aliens, blood, guts, gore, freakishly large creatures and all things Tim Burton. The Chiller channel and the SyFy channel are favorites in my house. According to her, she's never been a "princess kind of girl."

She's a great kid. She does really well in school. She's well liked by both boys and girls. Adults adore her. She cracks us up.

But she's a freak.

Last year, she was Sweeney Todd for Halloween. The year before, she was a Punk-a-Zombith (her words.) Before that, she was a Pirate (yes, you've noticed the Johnny Depp theme, have you?) This year she's going to be Coraline- yellow coat, yellow (somewhat) boots and blue hair. If you haven't seen Coraline, make a point to. It's an awesome, dark, fantastically animated movie.

So last weekend we took her to her second "R" rated movie- Zombieland. Now this kid LOVES Dawn of the Dead (new and old), Shaun of the Dead, Night of the Living Dead, District 9, 28 Days Later and 30 Days of Night. We heard Zombieland was a comedy and not too gory. Gory enough, I was sure, for a 10-year-old but she's not your ordinary 10-year-old...

The "R" rating was mostly for language and gore. I know she doesn't drop the F-bomb herself and gets very indignant when someone around her does. But she's not naive- she knows people use it and that movies are full of cursing so I didn't have much of a problem with her hearing it. It's the sexual innuendos that I try to shelter her from. And this movie didn't seem to have much of that going on.

If you liked Shaun of the Dead, you'll like Zombieland. If you didn't see Shaun of the Dead, make a point to see that one, too.

Zombieland stars Jesse Eisenberg (The Squid and the Whale), Woody Harrelson, Emma Stone (The House Bunny) and Abigail Breslin with a cameo by Bill Murray. It's a fun, fast-paced movie without a lot of in-your-face-blood and guts. The parts I liked were the credits and the "Rules for Zombie Survival". The credits seemed like part of the movie- for example- when a zombie ran through them, they crashed/broke/disintegrated. I like that kind detail in movies. The "Rules for Zombie Survival" showed up-literally- in the movies as they applied. Never, never forget #4- Doubletap!

The funniest part of the movie came not from the movie itself, but from Zombiegirl. When she saw Emma Stone, she turned to me and whispered, "Do you know who that is?" Who, I replied. "It's NATALIE" she says, in a VERY deep voice. I knew EXACTLY who she was talking about since we had just seen The House Bunny and that's how Anna Farris' character remembers names! In those two words she let me know the movie and the character! And she did the voice perfectly.

Anyway, back to Zombieland...great plot, awesome one-liners ("When the zombie outbreak first hit, the first to go...were the fatties" and "You just can't trust anyone. The first girl I let into my life and she tries to eat me.") actors that play off of each other, and the quest for a Twinkie...you can't go wrong for a fun-filled time at the movies.

And don't forget Rule #31- Check the back seat...

It's time to nut up or shut up.

We Have a Winner!

2009-10-27T22:12:00.010-04:00

At first I was disappointed in the amount of comments I received on the blog. But then I realized that I gained a few new readers, and got a lot of positive feedback on my posts. That made this all worth it!

Yesterday I had a retail therapy session. I took advantage of PC Richard's Anniversary Sale- they've been in business for 100 years, and they're offering 100 weeks interest free credit. Since I've been saving for my SLR camera, I finally bought it, along with a new freezer, flat screen TV and DVD player for our bedroom. Cheered me up IMMENSELY!

So tonight, after we carved our pumpkins and I wrapped the nephew's birthday present, I counted up all the comments added the blog links and Facebook shout-outs wrote them out and dropped them all into Halloween bag. MR was kind enough to pick the winner, and it's...

KRISTA!

Krista, my southern belle, you really worked for that gift certificate! Thanks for commenting and reading and all your kind words. I TRULY wish I could hand deliver your choice of the gift certificate (I'd fly down there TOMORROW if I could...) Let me know which store you want, and the certificate will be on it's way!

This was fun- it kept me occupied during the bumpy ride this weekend.

Thanks to all of you who participated. Roe- if you would have told me you didn't know how comment, I would have taught you how on time! lol!

Love you all!

It Was A Very Odd Day...

2009-10-26T18:05:00.004-04:00

Don't forget to comment and earn a chance to win $100 gift certificate!

I wanted to post this yesterday but I was mentally exhausted. Physically, too, since I was up really early in the morning. I zoned out watching The Next Iron Chef America and couldn't muster enough energy to tell you about my day.

I had a knot in my stomach all morning getting ready to go to church. I was a little nervous going back to the church I grew up in since I haven't been there for eight years. I left a few friends and a few un-friends behind. I was a little nervous seeing Dad- how he's going to react to all this- it is his 50th Anniversary, after all. I was a little nervous at how the family and I would react letting mom go...

Church was fine- nothing changed. Mrs. Daniellson got me all choked up when she came over and gave me a big hug. She was the sweet lady who made Zombiegirl's beautiful baby blanket 10 years ago. Laura hasn't changed- still talking up a storm. Everyone asked how old the girls were, and some asked where Obdurate Daughter was. Instead of going into detail, MR told everyone she was a Buddist, and doesn't attend Lutheran churches anymore.

We didn't stay for the coffee hour afterwards. Dad's not much for socializing. We went back to his house to wait for Pastor Baum. A few sips of coffee, Pastor's here, we're ready to go.

Okay. Let's do this.

We walked over to the park which is basically across the street. It was an absolutely gorgeous day. The sun was out, the bay was a sparkling blue. We went down to the water's edge- standing on a little ridge of sand. Ducks swam by quacking, but stopped when we approached.

Pastor read from Psalms, then after we let the plane from Kennedy airport fly overhead, we said the Lord's Prayer. The ducks joined in quacking louder as we prayed. Pastor took the urn from Dad, and flung the ashes out over the water. Some landed in the water, some landed on the sand. The water, which had been calm, washed over the little ridge twice to take the rest of the ashes out to sea. We had to step back so the waves wouldn't wash over our feet. Once all the ashes were gone, the waves stopped. We all commented on that.

It was sadly beautiful and very touching. Mom would have loved it.

After thanking Pastor, we went to the diner for brunch. Subdued and quiet (amid the diner's constant chatter) we had our omelettes (shrimp cocktail for Z-girl) and we went back to Dad's. I think he held up pretty well. It helped that it was a nice day So we have tomorrow to get through and the closure is complete.

Happy Anniversary, Mom and Dad. It was the first one you were apart in 50 years.

An Even Better Most Awesomest Giveaway

2009-10-26T08:45:00.002-04:00

Okay, people, I know you're out there. I know you're reading. I know you're downloading pictures of our tattoos. So why don't you comment? Don't you like the giveaway? No? SERRV.org not your style?

I get it. No problem.

I'll up the ante.

Comment on ANY of my blog postings and you can win your CHOICE of $100 gift certificates. I'm still standing by SERRV.org, but I'm also going to add $100 gift certificate to the store on my favorites list, BranchHome.Com, or $100 gift certificate to Walmart. There. That should please EVERYONE!

Check out the rules HERE.

I'm not looking for traffic to my blog. I don't have advertising, (although my Hubby does, and would appreciate you clicking on them so he can stay home a little while longer...) so I'm not looking to make $40,000 a month in clicks. I just wanted to celebrate the fact that I did something more than 100 times, and I've been blogging my heart out for over a year. So comment. I really don't mind handing over a gift certificate to my one true reader. I love her and her wife, and they really deserve it. Just wanted to make it interesting...

Back to the Earth

2009-10-25T04:13:00.003-04:00

Pssst. Wake up. I can't sleep. It's 4:00 in the morning, I've been tossing and turning for an hour. It's fruitless to stay in bed, so here I am. Watching "Milk' with Sean Penn and telling you about the strange, sad day I have ahead of me.

I'm letting go of my mother today.

We're scattering some of Mom's ashes into the Bay today.

We're celebrating what would have been Mom and Dad's golden Anniversary today.

I'm going back to my roots today.

My mom passed away eight months ago from synovial sarcoma. She suffered for two years with debilitating tumors in her neck and face. Surgery and radiation didn't slow this cancer down- it caught up with her, wasted her away and killed her.

At the end, she couldn't talk, so she would write notes to Dad. I would go over and she'd have notes waiting for me. One of these notes was her last wish for her funeral- she wanted to be cremated so no one could see what she looked like, then she wanted her ashes scattered into Jamaica Bay. She wanted her final resting place to be the place where she grew up. Where she lived as a young bride. Where she raised her children. Where she died.

Her wake was lovely. Her ashes were in a pretty blue urn, surrounded by yellow roses from Dad. We had a picture of her next to the urn, and a Star Trek pin pinned to the vestment covering the stand the urn was on. Picture boards of her and Dad on their trip across country in the "Marshmallow" and to Hawaii were standing next to the flowers from her family and friends. Bowls over her favorite candy- Jelly Beans- were set up around the room.

The funeral home had never done anything like this before. Usually the body is cremated after the wake in a coffin that costs close to $1,000. My Nana Frances was cremated before the funeral, and Mom liked that idea. I plan to follow in their footsteps. It was so tastefully done. No badly made up bodies for the masses to gawk at. No coffin to purchase. I know a dozen people who don't go up to the body at a funeral. Face it, it's uncomfortable! I want to go one further and not even involve a funeral home. I'd like a memorial service at my church then a party. Not that I have anything against funeral homes and morticians. I just think they take advantage of the bereaved. People think they have no other options except to mourn the recently deceased for three days and nights at a funeral home stuffed with flowers that are thrown away after the funeral. Don't buy me flowers. Buy a 6-pack of beer, drink up and remember my life!

Mom changed her mind in a note a few days later. She said she wanted some of her ashes let go into the bay and the rest interred into the niche they purchased next to my brother in Pinelawn Cemetary. So on Tuesday, we're putting the rest of Mom to rest behind a pink marble wall next to her son she said good-bye to 20 years ago.

I gonna need my hankie.

Dad's been keeping the ashes at home. He mentioned a few months ago that he wanted to scatter the ashes soon. I knew their 50th Anniversary was coming up, so I suggested we do it on that day. He's going to be sad anyway- we should celebrate and do something special. So today, we're all going to St. Barnabas for the service this morning, then we're meeting Pastor Baum at the beach in Charles Park. Mom had asked Beena if she would read a specific poem, but we're saving that for Tuesday. We'll say a prayer, then set Mom free. I was planning on throwing them a huge 50's dance for their Anniversary. Instead we'll go out for a quiet lunch. And prepare for another sad, strange day.

"By the sweat of your brow you will eat your food until you return to the ground, since from it you were taken; for dust you are and to dust you will return." Genesis 3:19

The Most Awesomest Giveaway!

2009-10-22T11:41:00.003-04:00

In August, I hit my 100th post. I was on vacation that week, and promptly forgot to do anything about it!

I've since hit my 150th post with that last one, Dreamscape #2.

So in honor on my ~~two readers~~ many, many readers and all those who come here looking for tattoo pictures, I've decided to do a giveaway.

Hmmm. What to give away? The iTunes Gift Card didn't go over well. I don't want to give away something I made since I would ACTUALLY HAVE TO MAKE it. And I don't have time for that. I want to give away something that people would enjoy and actually want to comment instead of lurking behind the scenes (feedback, people! I need feedback!) Plus the gift has to have meaning, a purpose. A Wal-Mart gift card is too impersonal, too plastic.

So I turn to my source of inspiration- the whole reason I created this blog. My Favorites list. Where, in my internet travels, I drop interesting things I may want to visit/buy/play someday in the future. I turn to my "Stuff to Buy" folder...

Okay, I'm pretty sure no one is going to be interested in Lumicor Resin Panels (even though they'd look nice in my bathroom.) PJ Greetings is cute- my SIL bought Zombiegirl these notecards a few Christmases ago- but how many notecards does one need? Y'all know how I feel about the Diva Cup.... I should delete that...I already bought it. I'm not sure how many of you want the new Fiesta color (isn't it pretty?) Or a Rain Barrel. They're on my wish list on the sidebar. What about something from this store? I love their stuff. And it's sustainable. But...

No. I got it. When my church, St. Andrew's, had their Alternative Giving fairs right before Christmas, I would purchase items from this company. Wait- what's an Alternative Giving Fair you ask? Since the majority of us have way too much stuff already, the Alternative Giving Fair gave you other options for gift giving. Give a cow or some ducks from Heifer International. Adopt a virtual turtle. Give a gift to the church in your recipient's name. While there "shopping" you could also purchase items from SERRV.org, a nonprofit company that works "to eradicate poverty through our direct connections with low-income artisans and farmers." They buy their unique crafts and food items and "help them grow and embrace the future."

Their stuff is beautiful and unique. Jewelry, home and holiday decor, scarves, tea and coffee- there's something for everyone.

Now here's the good part. I'm giving away a $100 gift certificate to SERRV.org. Okay- say it with me..."Ooooh! Aaaah!" I'll hold the random drawing Tuesday night- October 27th- after all my sad stuff is done (you'll find out) from everyone who comments on ANY of my postings between now and Tuesday, 9:00 pm EST. For every post, you'll get an entry into our magic hat. Mention this giveaway on your blog, or Facebook (prove it- send me the link and/or be my "friend") and you'll get an additional entry for each. Follow my rants and ravings ("follow blog" on the Nav Bar) and you'll get another entry. Comment on Hubby's blog that you came from here and earn another entry! Family members may participate provided you use the gift certificate to buy something for ME! Please be sure to include your e-mail or have it in your profile so I can contact you if you win. Good luck and thanks for commenting!

Check out SERRV.org- Strengthening our Global Community!

Dreamscape #2

2009-10-20T11:14:00.003-04:00

It may have been the fall off the stairs and the bruised foot and toes I suffered, but last night's dream was very strange. I'm sure I didn't hit my head...

The emergency warning alarm pierced the air and blared every five seconds. My mother (deceased) came onto the porch (house I grew up in) and asked me if I knew what the emergency was. No sooner did she ask that question when emergency vehicles driving up and down the street blared out of their bullhorns "Everyone is required to evacuate the neighborhood. Proceed in an orderly manner to the designated safe area. We are anticipating heavy electrical storms and rogue lightning. Pets are welcome. Please do not bring excessive personal belongings." This message repeated over and over until Nana (also deceased) came out to the porch also inquiring what was going on. (She was deaf in real life.) We got Zombiegirl (much younger) into a stroller and leashed Lola and Spencer and stepped out of the house into a beautiful day. The sun was shining on the bay across the street- it was a really pretty day. But quiet- no birds chirping, no kids playing- just the sound of the warning alarm and the emergency message blaring from the trucks. I looked to the sky toward the city and the biggest, blackest rain cloud I ever saw was looming about 10 miles away. It was somewhere over north Queens and heading our way.

We walked up the street toward this ominous cloud since that's where the safe house was- a huge catering hall over the county line in Brooklyn. We walked for about an hour, Mom, Nana Ethel, Z-girl and the two dogs, along with everyone else in Howard Beach. It was calm, though- we all were chatting as if it were a block party or something.

As we approached the catering hall, all hell broke loose. The cloud hung over the neighborhood as small lightning bolts crashed behind us. We ran for the doors and just got inside when a bolt of lightning hit the street where we were standing and disintegrated it. All the power went off in the catering hall, as well as the rest of the city.

Emergency power brought lights on in the cavernous hall where circular tables were set up and people were camped out around the tables. I found a few spots at a table that included three of my high school friends (found on Facebook) and my husband. I sat next to him, he kissed my cheek and gave Z-girl a hug. We all sat quietly listening to the sound of what might have been hail on the roof of the hall.

The doors then crashed open and my old friend and Maid of Honor for both my weddings came in dressed in a theatrical gown and hat. She made her way to our table while people scrambled to shut the door to the mayhem outside. She stopped to give air kisses to my three friends, then stood behind me. I looked up and backwards at her- her face was grotesque upside-down- and she asked me if I noticed her implants, and did I want to feel how real they were. (There was never anything sexual between us...we were best friends.) My husband volunteered, and they went off to a dark corner. I looked at my Mom, and she gave me a wry smile. I got up angry and went to the front doors of the catering hall and peeked out. There was nothing but blue skies. Literally. Everything had been destroyed and what took the place of the rain cloud was a gigantic space ship (one that I've had recurring nightmares about before.) I screamed and...woke up.

It was good to see Mom and Nana again.

Blood, sweat and....

2009-10-15T11:07:00.005-04:00

Warning to all the men who sometimes visit my blog: you might want to skip this posting and go here instead...look at the funny cat pictures.

Did I look forward to my period this month? I did because I wanted to try out the Diva Cup again but I didn't because I knew it was going to be a bad one based on my wicked moodiness and inability to see the good in ANYTHING.

And I was right. It was a bad one. I used the Diva Cup in preparation for the Big Bleed- you can do that and not worry too much about Toxic Shock Syndrome like you have to with tampons. I was wearing it when it started and I didn't leak, so I was psyched.

I should have known better.

The next day I wore it to the gym in the morning and still didn't leak. Wonderful! I finally mastered this thing! When I got home I took a shower and re-inserted it for the maximum 12 hour usage potential and left for work.

I felt like what amounted to a little leakage by the time I got to work, but I was confident because I learned from the last time to wear pantyliners. Being that it was THE busiest day in the fourth quarter, I stayed at my desk on the computer most of the morning. When I got up to get something at the printer, I felt it. Whoosh. Like the Uterus decided it didn't want to be inside anymore and was ready to take a vacation. I bypassed the printer and went to the ladies room. And it was like they filmed Friday the 213th in my pants. And they were beige.

I cleaned myself and my pants up the best I could, and re-re-inserted the Diva Cup. I went back to my desk wet, miserable and mad.

The rest of the day was a total Cup failure. I couldn't remove it because I had nothing to put it in and I was NOT washing it out in the public sink. I just had to keep shifting it and hoping for the best. The best never came that day. By the time I got home I wanted to take the old Uterus out myself and send it to an institution. Plus I was pissed about all the other crap going on at work.

The next day I bucked up and tried it again. I inserted it while in the shower and got dressed and went to work. This time it felt like it was riding "low". It wasn't actually uncomfortable but I could feel it. The day before I felt nothing. All day I was prepared for that "whoosh" but it never came. I did feel like I was leaking, but every time I went to check, I wasn't. It worked beautifully all day. My conclusion is this:

If you feel it, you've put it in correctly.
When inserting it, you need to insert horizontally towards the back, not up and in.
If you've inserted correctly, you'll feel the blood going down- it'll feel like you're leaking, but you aren't. The Cup is catching it before it spills out.

At the end of the day I made it home commuting with no leakage. As soon as I got home I went to the bathroom and started to take the cup out. All of a sudden I felt a warm rush of liquid on my hand. Crap! I spilled the cup again! But...noooo...the cup wasn't out yet.

I was peeing on my hand.

I forgot I had to pee in my rush to take the Cup out and the action of pulling stimulated my pee muscles and I let loose. Two hours of commuting pee poured into my hand since I couldn't move it away or I would drop the Cup that was halfway out. Wonderful. At that point I wanted to rip my Plumbing out too and send it packing with the Uterus. I want a penis! And balls! Anything but these girly parts that were driving me insane.

And men wonder why we get PMS. It's in anticipation of the insanity that is our period.

Blood, sweat and...pee. Lovely.

The Whore of Babylon

2009-10-12T20:38:00.010-04:00

Okay, maybe not Babylon. I'm not THAT far out on Long Island. But today, I definitely felt like a whore. Or maybe a bitch. Yeah- today, I was everybody's bitch.

I decided to become an architect early on in life. You see, I was a Brady Bunch fan. I loved Greg, was jealous of Marsha and wanted to slap Cindy around. And before I knew he was gay, I loved Mike Brady. I waited anxiously for him to come home from the office with a roll of plans, or catch him in his office at his drafting table- damn those kids for always interrupting his creativity! And Mrs. Brady. How many times I seethed when she draped herself around him while he was trying to work. Yes, I loved and admired Mike. Whenever anyone asked me what I wanted to be, I would say (after my customs-inspector stage) an Architect. If Mike could support six kids, a trendy wife, a live-in housekeeper, huge house and awesome vacations to Hawaii then architect looked pretty good to me. Plus I could draw and was pretty creative. I knew I wouldn't make any money being an artist, so it seemed like the perfect job.

Um. Yeah.

Fast forward to college. I was at an immediate disadvantage my first year at NYIT. I didn't know how to draft, I had no tools and had no idea how to use them once I bought them. Drafting was NOT taught in college- most of my classmates had taken drafting in high school. Add the construction classes to my confusion. Again, a lot of my male classmates worked construction after school or during the summer. I didn't know a stud from a beam.

Throw into that mixture of college angst a fiance and a wedding and cook up a recipe for disaster.

Fast forward my first architectural job. A small architectural firm in Queens. My mom put in a good word for me there (she had dated one of the partners and the other partner lived a block away from them.) I learned how to make blueprints the ammonia way, stand in line at the building department (several hundred times pregnant) and how to produce a set of construction drawings that eventually didn't look like they were bleeding after the partners got through marking it up with the red pen. I was happy there (except for the time the guy came in with the gun- but that's another blog post) but the pay was paltry. I was basically there just to serve the apprenticeship before I took the exam to become a registered architect. I was married with a baby and both salaries weren't cutting it, however. And it was here I learned that architects are whores.

Philip Johnson, one of the greatest architects of the 20th Century said it best- "Architects are pretty much high-class whores. We can turn down projects the way they can turn down some clients, but we've both got to say yes to someone if we want to stay in business. " So right. And you can be the cleverest, most innovative, artistic architect in the world- if the client doesn't like that color because it's too "mustardy" then you have to change it.

Fast forward to my second architectural job. Regretfully, I left the first job for double the salary working for New York City Housing and Preservation and Development. Earning my halo renovating abandoned crack houses for low and middle class housing. Learned Autocad. Worked my way up to supervising 10 other architects. Lived through the drama of a morally corrupt set of bosses. Got pregnant with Obdurate Daughter. Divorced Ex-Asshole. Met my hubby-to-be. Was tenth in line to become a Permanent employee. Got passed over in favor of all "the good ole boys". Filed a EEO complaint. Answered an ad in the Times (thanks, Frank) for my current job.

Sidestep, please, to the Registered Architect Exam. In order to take responsibility for your drawings and project, one must be registered with the State of New York as an architect. In order to become registered, one must pass an exam.

The Mother of All Exams.

Harder than the Bar Exam.

Harder than the Medical Exam.

This test (in my day) was four days long, composed of nine parts- Structures, Planning, Design, Plumbing/HVAC, Site Design, etc. The LAST day was a 12 hour long exam where you plan a building within the guidelines and produce a full set of drawings. I know people who have thrown up before this test, have taken this test nine times and who have had nervous breakdowns because of this last exam. I've taken it three times, as had MR. All in all, he's passed five parts of this torture test, I've passed two. Is it something I wish I've accomplished? Yes. Do I need it for my current job? No. It would have been nice to be registered, but then again, think of the liability insurance...

Fast forward to my next job, the present job. I started in my current job as Chief Architect. I was responsible for plans and fit-studies of the home office of a major Financial Institution. I designed trading floors. I spoke with heads of departments. I instituted Archibus (a facilities database) to help with cost allocation. I was one of a kind in my little world of Facilities. I was newly married to MR.

Fast forward through one merger and one layoff then 12 years later. I no longer do design. I no longer do planning. I do mostly data input. I have a deadline one week out of every quarter. And it seems that everyone wants a piece of my ass during that week. And I usually get my period around that time, so it makes the idiocy that I deal with all the more idiotic. But isn't this your job, you may ask? Don't people need the reports that you produce? Yes they do, and I do support management with my reports. It's all the "extra" crap that's not really in my job description that people ask me to do because they know it will be right, and they'll get it quickly if I do it.

I won't go into specifics about who and what pisses me off. I don't want to be "Dooced". But today I should have just laid down on my back and let them have at me. They did anyway. And they didn't even offer me a smoke.

Curse you, Mike Brady.

My Grain

2009-10-08T11:22:00.004-04:00

It feels like a ball peen hammer thudding directly on my brain.

It feels like my eyes are being pulled and stretched from the inside.

It feels like a giant hand pressing down on the top of my head, pushing to my stomach, making me sick.

It feels like a migraine.

Those of you who know me know I've been getting migraines since Beena was born, so that's going on 21 years. Debilitating migraines. Stay at home for three days migraines. Throw up until I pass out migraines. I've tried different prescriptions and they would work until I got used to them- then I'd have to change. My doctor prescribed an anti-depressant to prevent them, but they made my life foggy, like I was walking through pea soup, so I stopped taking them. I learned to avoid my "triggers" - those things that will cause a migraine- like red wine, phosphates, hard cheese, too much caffeine and too much stress. But I noticed a few years ago that even if I avoided my triggers, I would still get two or three migraines a week, usually in the spring and the fall. Clicking around the interwebs, I found a trigger I never would have guessed- a change in the barometric pressure.

Barometric pressure, or air pressure is the pressure exerted by the weight of air over an area of Earth's surface. This value factors in how many molecules of air there are in a specific area, how fast those molecules are moving and how often they collide. At sea level, gravity is strongest and attracts the greatest number of molecules, so air pressure is greatest. Because gravity weakens as you go up, air pressure is lower at higher altitudes.

Air pressure changes are caused by storms, which are areas of low pressure moving across the country. Clear skies are areas of high pressure. When a front- or boundary between warm and cold air- comes by, the air pressure can drop and rise rapidly. It seems that changes in air pressure can cause migraines and sinus headaches. They don't know why, but that's okay. I at least figured out why during these seasons I continue to get migraines.

Mom bought me a glass barometer for my birthday a few years ago. Zombiegirl used to watch it then run in and tell me that I'm going to get a migraine. Whenever the water rose in the spout the air pressure was decreasing- a storm was coming. I usually got hit with the migraine when the spout water was going down. Note to self: clean out the stupid thing and fill it properly so it will work! I pretty much stopped using the barometer when I started going to the chiropractor specifically to treat the migraines.

Having an adjustment on a weekly basis seemed to lessen the migraines down to once every three weeks in my peak seasons. Times of stress usually brought them on more, but they weren't as debilitating as usual. Did I keep up with my adjustments? Of course not. I missed spring and summer and come this fall, they came back with a vengeance.

My migraines usually start with an "aura". A spectral vision of zig-zag lines that start in the center of my vision then gradually grow outward to hinder my peripheral vision. It was hard to describe this aura to my family and friends until I found this flash animation on this post that nails my aura right on the head. Scroll down for the animation. Mine is reversed, though. It starts on the upper left side...

If I take medication (right now I'm relying on Excedrin for Migraine) while I have the aura the migraine usually won't "take" and I can function like a normal human. What's been happening to me recently is I'll wake up in the middle of the night, or the morning already in the full throes of a migraine. How the hell to I combat that? I woke up with one this morning at 2:30 am, and yesterday when I got up at 5:00 am. I'm going to continue see Dr. Evelyn for adjustments every week and I'm going to limit my coffee intake. It HAS been a stressful week, though. Maybe that's it.

If you suffer from migraines please let me know what you do to fight them. Any suggestions?

In the meantime, I'm just going to put my head down on my desk for awhile...

Results Not Typical

2009-10-06T14:51:00.002-04:00

It's Tuesday again, so it must be workout day. I REALLY need to go more than twice a week...

I start with six minutes on the treadmill at 3.9. This works out to be around 15 mph. Don't ask me how... Mike comes over and takes me to the free weight area and puts a half bouncy ball upside down on the floor. I do 3 sets of 12 push ups with my hands on the bouncy ball bottom. This is hard because I have to balance as well as do the push ups.

Next, he flips the ball things over and makes me sit on the top with my hands under my ass. He tells me to bring my knees to my chest and then straighten them out. All while balanced on the ball. Riiiight. I do two very shaky sets of 12.

Still on the ball, leaning back, I do two sets of 15 crunches.

Next to the machines I've been looking forward to- the Adductor and the Abductor. Three sets of 12 with 70lbs. on each of these inner and outer thigh machines. Ouch. This is why I can't get up from my office chair easily.

Over to the tall machine that can do 1,000 different exercises with straps, bars and handles. He has me doing three sets of 12 downward triceps curls with (I think) 40lbs. Then he switches the bar for two handles and has me in a lunge stance doing two sets of 12 chest presses with (I think) 20 lbs on each side.

I have nine more sessions, then I'm on my own. Sniff!

100 Things That Piss Me Off (or make me mad)

2009-10-02T14:20:00.022-04:00

Oh, this one was MUCH easier. As I suspected...I am a misanthrope. And there are so many more...

1. Riding the subway.

2. Taking the N6 bus.

3. People who spit or hock a lugie on the sidewalk.

4. Wednesday matinee days.

5. People who take advantage. People who take home all the food after a conference.

6. The phrase "It is what it is."

7. "Valentime's Day"

8. Liars.

9. When having a conversation: the person you're conversing with is not listening to you but is prepping what they're going to say next.

10. Being put on hold.

11. Poison ivy.

12. Rap music.

13. Celebrity gossip.

14. When I can't finish a Sudoku.

15. When I forget to bring my reusable bags to the store.

16. People who don't even TRY to recycle. Litterbugs.

17. Micro-managers. Managers who are also megalomaniacs.

18. Michael Jackson tributes.

19. Tanning salons.

20. Half-assed jobs.

21. Breaking a nail. Not that I EVER get my nails done.

22. Crackberries. Twitter. And the people who walk V..e..r..y...S..l..o..w..l..y while using them.

23. Bad boyfriends and their families.

24. Children misbehaving in public and usually how their parent's (don't) deal with them.

25. Dirty bathrooms and the pigs that make them that way.

26. People who talk on the phone all day instead of working.

27. Tourists.

28. Authors who crank out books in a series when clearly the series has already jumped the shark.

29. Reality TV shows. Except for Wipeout.

30. Mommybloggers. ESPECIALLY Dooce. And that Sandi Benson chick.

31. Starbuck's and the posers who buy their sludge.

32. Companies that outsource their Help Desk and Customer Service to India.

33. Facebook friends that play those games all day long and post the status updates, thus clogging up the status list.

34. My ex-husband's child bride.

35. When dog poop is NOT picked up.

36. When I can't find something. My house has a black hole.

37. Bad breath. And the unwillingness to do anything about it.

38. Loud phone talkers.

39. Loud LIRR talkers.

40. People who won't say "Good morning" or "Hello" when met passing on the street.

41. The nosy person in my office.

42. Neighbors who insist on coughing loudly or making other noise early in the morning or late at night under my bedroom window.

43. Dishes in the sink. And the unwillingness of anyone to do anything about them.

44. Burnt cookies. Burnt food.

45. Unresponses to emails.

46. The person who monopolizes conversations. Especially at book club.

47. People who constantly talk about their children. Every. Chance. They. Get.

48. Nasty soccer parents. And their nasty children.

49. Counter people who don't get your order right. Usually because they don't speak English.

50. Democrats that don't like me because I'm a Republican.

51. Liberals.

52. People that hold grudges.

53. Season finales.

54. Shattered dreams.

55. The guy on the corner that has a billion kids, but can't get any of them to do yard work. And he only "cleans" up his yard when it's time to put his sukkah up.

56. Daughters who think we're idiots.

57. Stray cats.

58. Bosses who don't let you know when they're going to be out.

59. Co-workers who take advantage and DON'T DO THEIR JOB.

60. Drug addicts. Alcoholics.

61. Spencer and Lola.

62. When my sewing machine gets moody.

63. When I'm moody (THAT time of the month) and no one is sympathetic.

64. My period. Period.

65. When my plants die.

66. People who ALWAYS cry poverty.

67. When my computer crashes. When my program doesn't work. When I get a virus.

68. When my family is sick. MR's allergies. Z-girl's asthma.

69. When I'm sick. Migraines. Cramps.

70. My fat belly.

71. When I procrastinate.

72. The current physical state of my home.

73. Assholes who voted for Obama because he's black. Assholes who didn't vote for Obama because he's black.

74. People who accuse first without getting the whole story.

75. Snotty, snooty or stuck-up persons.

76. Sloppy, slovenly or messy persons.

77. Kids with bad table manners. Even worse- adults with bad table manners.

78. Breaking a dish or a glass.

79. Bad drivers. Arrogant drivers. Asshole drivers.

80. People who don't realize that you DO have a life outside of work, or outside of THEIR lives!

81. Men who undress you with a glance.

82. Small dogs. If they can fit in a pocketbook, they're annoying. If you dress them, you're annoying.

83. Rich people who feel entitled. Poor people who feel entitled.

84. Clueless Upper Management.

85. When the spouse can't take a hint.

86. When friends cancel or don't respond back to you.

87. People who would rather spend money on themselves than their kids.

88. Swindlers, bamboozlers, cheaters.

89. Bus riders that take up two seats. Subway riders that stick their feet out, or cross their legs. Guys who sit with their legs WIIIDE open. Then get mad at you if you try to sit/hit their feet...

90. When asked what they want for dinner, my family says "Whatever" or "I don't know." Or, when asked what they want from the supermarket, they reply the same, and complain there's nothing to eat.

91. Not being able to take a real vacation.

92. When I trip or fall for no reason.

93. Typos. Grammatical errors. Use spell-check, people!

94. Body odor. Flaky scalp. Dirty clothes. Stinky feet.

95. Hidden fees. Late fees. Greens fees.

96. Underestimating my abilities.

97. My hair.

98. Cancer.

99. People who say "I haven't seen you in Church lately!" Well, I haven't seen you at the bar lately!

100. Bad porn.

100 Things That Make Me Happy

2009-10-02T11:00:00.004-04:00

This list took me almost a month to compile! I wonder if that says something about me? Hmmm....

These are in no particular order. And it's a given that my family in general makes me happy! (On most days, at least.)

1. Hugging Zombiegirl. Getting hugs back.

2. The smell of a thunderstorm or rainstorm.

3. Hilton Head, SC

4. Riverhead, Long Island

5. Savannah, GA

6. Fresh tomatoes.

7. An email saying my library book is in.

8. Seeing my husband and child when they pick me up from the train/bus.

9. Hearing my husband and child's laugh when they're joking with each other.

10. Really clean windows.

11. Completing a sewing project.

12. Watching Zombiegirl play soccer.

13. Having Parker call me "Mrs. Reichert" or "Mamasoo."

14. Soy yogurt, granola and mandarin oranges.

15. Not having to deal with stupid CAFM managers.

16. The words "I love you" whispered in my ear.

17. The feel of sand in underneath my feet.

18. Speaking of feet, having my husband rub them.

19. And pedicures.

20. Getting mail, but not bills.

21. Playing with the nieces and nephews.

22. America's Funniest Home Videos, iCarly and Wipeout.

23. Going for a coffee run with friends.

24. Looking in people's windows at night.

25. A lone voice singing "Amazing Grace".

26. Looking at my wedding pictures and pictures of my kids when they were little.

27. Frozen Charleston Chews.

28. Butterfingers.

29. Pecan pie.

30. Sweet potatoes. Any shape, any form.

31. Gardening. Planting. Pruning. Weeding.

32. Garden Gnomes.

33. Fiestaware. All shapes, all colors, all styles- old and new.

34. Iced coffee, peppermint tea and chai.

35. Kissing the kid goodnight. Saying "Sweet dreambles." Giving "dream dust."

36. When the kid has a sleepover and the guest knows to ask for "dream dust."

37. Watching Beena drive.

38. Saying the Lord's Prayer. Hearing a multitude of voices saying it with me.

39. Compliments.

40. A hot shower after a workout or a long day at work.

41. Flannel pajamas. All day long.

42. A massage, a facial and a sauna.

43. Cilantro

44. Having dinner with all my family.

45. Seeing my friend Eileen.

46. Shopping in thrift stores and antique stores.

47. Hearing Beena speak "Math".

48. Finishing a sudoku.

49. A really good book. Or the next book in a series I'm reading.

50. Indian food. Thai food.

51. MR's smell. Especially when he comes out of 7-11.

52. Flowers, plants and veggies. All homegrown.

53. Spending a lazy day in bed watching a series (Dexter, Gilmore Girls) on DVD.

54. Hugs from my CAFM team when I see them once a month.

55. Ryan's face when she laughs, and Ruddyna's snort!

56. Baking with the kids.

57. Going new places. It doesn't matter where!

58. Going to soccer practice/games and seeing my soccer moms.

59. Halloween, Thanksgiving and Christmas season. If they're not hectic... I could list 100 things that make me happy during the holidays alone!

60. The colors orange and chartreuse. Even better when they're together.

61. In a canoe.

62. Seeing the recipient's face when they open a gift made/given by me.

63. Thinking of Mom, Nana Ethel and Uncle Robbie.

64. Cow creamers and all things Cow Parade.

65. When I remember to take my reusable bags to the grocery store.

66. Babies and toddlers. Even if I'm not related to them. And this DOESN'T MEAN I WANT TO BE A GRANDMA.

67. Will Smith movies. Johnny Depp movies. Tim Burton movies.

68. Wine tastings on Long Island. Vodka tastings on Long Island.

69. Yes.

70. Hiking and camping.

71. A hot bath. Preferable with a book and a glass of wine.

72. Wrapping presents. Opening presents. Blowing out candles.

73. When my outfit works. And someone notices it.

74. Reminiscing.

75. The day after I dye my hair.

76. A new notebook or pad of paper.

77. A good pen or marker. Office supplies in general.

78. Finding dimes with MR.

79. A nap on the train. Hell- naps in general!

80. The piccolo player in Penn Station. He plays songs like Gilligan's Island and the theme from F-Troop. I always give him a dollar.

81. A new friend request on Facebook.

82. When one of the blogs on my blog roll updates.

83. When Beena comments on my blog.

84. Butterflies, lady bugs and lolcats.

85. A cold beer with lime. A cold white Riesling or Gewurztraminer. Amaretto on the rocks. Jack Daniels and lemonade. Ice wine.

86. New clothes, a new Coach bag, new shoes or new piece of jewelry. Or all of the above.

87. Seeing the results of my hard work.

88. Feeding animals. Wild animals. Not the ones that live at home.

89. Carnivals. Rides. Cotton Candy. Ferris Wheels. Fireworks.

90. Globes and pictures of the earth.

91. Uniforms. Groups in uniforms. Fleet week. Firemen.

92. Harry Potter.

93. The smell of fresh laundry.

94. Watching OUR shows.

95. My favorite blanket.

96. Winning.

97. Pretzels with mustard from the pushcart guys.

98. Synchronicity.

99. Sewing and creating.

100. Chocolate. Specifically dark or spicy.

Update on my 101 in 1001

2009-10-01T14:15:00.002-04:00

It's October first. There's a chill in the air and the leaves are starting to turn. I'm taking my sweaters out and switching out my short sleeved shirts. I love the fall!

I'm not going to re-iterate things already accomplished. Just an update on section BODY, and any new developments.

4. Continuing with the gym, but it's down to two times a week. I'm going to make an REAL effort to get my sorry ass there a third and/maybe fourth time.

6. I didn't have any bacon. I swear.

9. I bought and used the Diva Cup! Bloody adventures here!

10. I have been going to the dentist. But not progressing. More like waiting to see if my teeth "firm up."

11. I have been taking my vitamins every night. I added Glucosamine to the mix.

12. I missed ONE day of wearing makeup. I put it on in the morning right before I do my hair.

13. So far, I've blogged every month about my Body items!

27. I was "elected" Fifth Grade Representative. I don't know how that happened since a) I didn't volunteer for that position, and b) I didn't go to the PTA meeting. So by default, I'm going to be active in 5th grade PTA whether I like it or not!

29. Still following the meal plan.

40. Alterations still pending.

46. I work on the sewing room a little every day. Next thing I have to do is get rid of the piles. Next pile to tackle is filing all my crap away.

That's it. Pretty pathetic. I think I'm going to print this list out and post it in several places so I see it more often. There were some things I totally forgot about. Really, though, it's only been two months. I have to stop beating myself up about the shit I DON'T get down and start focusing on the things I DID get done!

Keepin' a positive attitude, dude...

Results Not Typical

2009-10-01T10:33:00.005-04:00

Today at the gym I realized I cannot get dressed in the dark. My shirt had bleach stains on it. Mike said not to worry- I'm only working out. Why then, do all the other people at the gym look like they just came out of a workout video? Why do I feel like a schlub next to them?

Anyways, today we did arms and abs. First we did three sets of 15/12 shoulder presses with a barbell with 20 lbs on it. I say 15/12 because I didn't do the whole set of 15. Seems every time Mike says "Three more" those three become the hardest reps to do. I told him I count, and he shouldn't say anything, but after awhile he thought it was funny that I strained under the "last three." He said those were the most important anyway because they were the ones that would do the most good. After the shoulder presses, using the same barbell, I did three sets of 12 arm curls.

Off to this torturous looking bench he had me lay down on to do crunches. Three reps of 20. I swear sometimes I can't figure out how to situate myself on some of these machines. I have to wait until he shows me where to sit! Another example- a "bench" that you lay down on at an angle. The pads hit at your pelvis. You then bend and straighten working your lower back and abs. I did one set of 20 of these.

On to the lat pulls- three reps of 12 then back to abdominal work. Another crazy bench- laying sideways and doing side crunches- two reps of 20 each side.

Before all this, I did the treadmill. I'm up to seven minutes on the treadmill at 3.9.

The next shirt I'm getting. Mmmm. Bacon.

Nothing Gold Can Stay

2009-09-30T12:48:00.008-04:00

Nature's first green is gold,

Her hardest hue to hold.

Her early leaf's a flower;

But only so an hour.

Then leaf subsides to leaf.

So Eden sank to grief,

so dawn goes down to day.

Nothing gold can stay.

I had to learn this poem by Robert Frost in Junior High School. Then, when I read "The Outsiders" I came across it again. I think it's a fitting poem for how I'm feeling right now. September came and FLEW by, and I feel like I didn't, once again, get what I wanted to accomplish done. I had such high hopes for this month and here it is the last day and my good intentions sank to grief.

So I continue into October with the projects that I didn't get to in September.

To recap from here:

I didn't get to St. Andrew's renovation. The weekend I wanted to do it, MR went bear hunting. Then I got a migraine. So hopefully this weekend the last two pieces will be glued in.
I'm going to work on St. A's website this weekend. My deadline for giving Pastor a template is Monday.
I finished the ceiling in the hallway...BUT...when I took the blue tape off the wall, it took pieces of the finished wall paint with it. So now I have to touch that up. ETA- tomorrow (Thursday.) After that it's sanding the stairway wall and steps.
My alteration pile yielded me 3 pairs of capri pants, a fitted shirt and a new skirt. Still left to do are two backpacks that ripped and two pairs of Z-girl's pants to be shortened.
The sewing room has been organized but not cleaned. There are piles stacked everywhere- I have to invest in more bins. I did clean out the closet and was able to store more crap in there.
I have not touched my credit report for fear of blowing up my PC. How would I explain that to my boss?

So here I am again. I'll be trying to make these things work out in the next week or so. Then it's clear sailing through my 101 in 1001 goals.

Unless i get kidnapped by aliens.

Results Not Typical

2009-09-29T11:01:00.004-04:00

After a week of not working out (migraines, stomach viruses and bronchitis (Mike's, not mine)) I'm finally back to my Tuesday/Thursday routine.

What a difference a week makes.

Today Mike said he would take it easy on me- ease me back into the routine. Well thanks, Mike. If that's easy, I don't want it hard.

After six minutes on the treadmill at 4.0 (still don't know...) we went downstair to this ginormous machine I had to lay down in and do leg presses. Mike took 270 pounds off the machine (6-45lb weights) to leave me with NOTHING but the mechanics. Who the HELL presses 270 lbs? The mechanics felt like 100 pounds- add that to the weights. Geez. Anyway, I did three sets of 12 then fell out of the machine.

Three sets of 12 leg extensions next while he told me about his son trying out for the Milwaukee Brewers. He was eliminated in the 4th round...

Upstairs to chest presses. Three sets of 10 chest presses at 50 lbs. He decreased the weight after I struggled to get the first 10 out.

Next was this little machine right by the office. Stand and press down on the weights, then sit (the seat is slightly tilted forward.) Tricep presses for three sets of 10. After he adjusted my seat (he has to adjust everything because I'm so tall) it was alot harder because I was getting the full range of motion. Now I have spaghetti arms.

Into the free weights area where we used a 6lb. medicine ball for 2 reps of 12 Ab crunches handing the ball off, then crunching without it. Then I near collapse when we do alternating twisting then handing off to Mike while he stands on my feet. I can only do 10 before I sink back and don't get up.

We're done. Everyone knows it. I don't even finish off on the bike.

So because of that, I'll go to the gym tomorrow morning and work out without him.

Monday Tidbits

2009-09-28T21:41:00.003-04:00

A very exciting recap of my weekend....

1. Watching Hedwig and the Angry Inch, I forgot how much I loved this movie and how much I liked John Cameron Mitchell's voice. I looked him up on IMDB and he was born on my birthday. Year AND day.

2. Zombiegirl's team lost to Auburndale 5-2. The other team was really good. Quote during the game- Stan G (Hale's Grandpa) asked if the other team were all going back to home to Nicaragua after the game. Bad grandpa.

3. Z-girl has a better social life than me. AND her sisters. This kid averages two birthday parties a weekend lately. And I'm really proud of her- they are all different circles of friends. She's not confining herself (like her older sister(s)) to one or two friends. Very few of her friends bisect her circles, either. And I'm going broke buying birthday gifts.

4. Reading Dan Brown is like getting a history lesson in under five minutes.

5. I'm slowly getting rid of the crap in my life. To clarify, it's getting harder to find stuff to sell at yard sales. This very well may be my last one. If only it doesn't rain, again.

6. I have way too many crafts started and not enough finished. I booked three craft sales before Christmas, so I have to get a move on.

7. September flew by WAAY too fast. But I'm looking forward to all the things I have to do in October.

8. Mr. and I were talking about Anna Farris last night while watching Family Guy. House Bunny is on tonight. Synchronicity?

9. I need to see Dr. Heredia more often. My migraines are back with a vengance.

10. I now know why my mom's hand were so soft all the time. Frosting made of shortening will make your hands soft and smooth. My cake decorating exploits will be chronicled here shortly.

11. I wish my life would Flashforward six months. Will I be watching Flashforward?

12. It's very hard for someone to say no to 12 girls in soccer uniforms. The guy in the yoga place is a hard-hearted man. A yoga gift certificate would have been wonderful for our raffle basket. His loss. Thanks to the Barber shop, The Witches Brew, Phoenix Chiropractic, Aroma Nails, Gina at Mandee, GNC, Beena, Dad and Rob for their donations to our baskets.

Another exciting weekend. A little cleaning, a little laundry, a little soccer, a little cake. A few crafts and some TV.

And...I want cerviche.