Yesterday after Gymboree, we watched P & P and this is my oh, so professional movie review. Perhaps my poor attitude is a result of Ally's mom trying to teach the Boo how to "be gentle" in Gymboree since she did such a great job at it with Ally. First and foremost, my kid has a motor skills problem. He can do gentle up until the last three inches, when he loses his balance and goes falling directly into the "honey lovely" aka object of his affection for the second. He is a klutz but he is doing the best he can. I just apologize for him because so you mothers at Gymboree think I give a rat's ass about if my kid pokes your kid's eye out. FYI, I DON'T CARE.
So thanks for the help, B-ee-och, and go back to your clique-y playgroup and continue discussing how you got a great deal on your Soccer Mom uniform at Ralph Lauren last week.
Back to my review. For those of you wondering how I could possible tell you something that happens in P&P, the movie, seeing as you have probably read the book and how could ANYTHING happen in the movie that didn't happen in the book, "nanny-nanny-boo-boo" and here I go. So if your heart is set on betraying the All-Six-Hours-BBC-No-One-Else-Can-Ever-Be-Mr.-Darcy-Except-Colin-Firth true P & P, then you had better stop reading now.
If you are still reading, and I somehow ruin the movie for you, it is your own damn fault as you have been forewarned.
Did anyone own a brush in 1814? I'm going out on a limb to say YES. This movie was reminiscent of Mary McDonnell in Dances With Wolves. During that whole movie, everyone else was perfectly coiffed and for some reason, Ms. McDonnell confused "Dancing With Wolves" with "Raised By Wolves" and had that dirty face with that skanky hair. Same thing here, except no one owned a brush except Caroline Bingley--I guess because she was rich.
Anyone have any idea why they all looked like paupers and there was a gigantic pig running through the house at one point? They weren't poor. Talk about confusing "entailing your estate away from the family" with having no money.
I hate to get all "strict Jane Austen constructionist" on you, but Elizabeth Bennett doesn't get her feelings hurt by Darcy, Darcy doesn't even notice her for the first 1/4 of the book and they certainly aren't two star-crossed lovers like Romeo and Juliet from the second scene of the movie.
But, if you are a huge fan of Sixteen Candles, the final scene was worth the wait. Just substitute our hero and heroine for Samantha and Jake, and you have a winner.
Hollywood gone bad, yet again.
Friday, November 18, 2005
Wednesday, November 16, 2005
What happens when a) I am left unattended and b) you don't return my phone calls
At the risk of opening Pandora's box with the whole "Carl" confusion.....
Today I got a visit from the nice 12-year old investigator asking me questions about Carl for his five-year background investigation update for his very important government job. Carl hasn't returned my last two phone calls so I guess he wasn't too worried about what I might say.
We have a contest every year at Cookie's Annual New Year's Eve party about who said the most outrageous thing to a background investigator (this is when you realize that you know too many people who work for the government--when you are able to have these kinds of competitions). I won last year when the investigator insinuated that I was a lesbian for having a female roommate and I may have gone on a little too long that we were "very, very close." Special thanks to Cathy for encouraging that along when the investigator got to her. You would have thought that the husband and soon-to-be baby would have thrown off her train of thought, but she was tenacious.
Not to be outdone this year (Matt telling the Derek's investigator that he had never seen Derek drunk), I have had a whole 24 hours to prepare for this interview.
After the standard list of questions, I got this one--which I didn't see coming but which laid the groundwork for this year's coup de grace.
I: Do you know if Carl has sponsored anyone to come to the United States? (referring to foreign family members, a mail-order bride or nanny, perhaps--not that he has children or anything)
K: I don't know. You tell me.
I: I'm sorry? (looking very confused)
K: Does he have a wife over there?
I: Over where? (getting the panicked look of an investigator who has now gotten an answer that she wasn't expecting and is at a loss for how to continue)
K: Over at his house. Does he have a wife over there?
I: Huh?
K: Well, you know, Carl is kind of closed-mouth about his personal life. I wouldn't be surprised if he is hiding a spouse over there in his apartment.
Insert sound of VERY LOUD CRICKETS CHIRPING.
K: Ha-ha-ha. Just kidding.
I: Ha. Ha. Ha.
K: No really, I'm just kidding.
Oops.
Today I got a visit from the nice 12-year old investigator asking me questions about Carl for his five-year background investigation update for his very important government job. Carl hasn't returned my last two phone calls so I guess he wasn't too worried about what I might say.
We have a contest every year at Cookie's Annual New Year's Eve party about who said the most outrageous thing to a background investigator (this is when you realize that you know too many people who work for the government--when you are able to have these kinds of competitions). I won last year when the investigator insinuated that I was a lesbian for having a female roommate and I may have gone on a little too long that we were "very, very close." Special thanks to Cathy for encouraging that along when the investigator got to her. You would have thought that the husband and soon-to-be baby would have thrown off her train of thought, but she was tenacious.
Not to be outdone this year (Matt telling the Derek's investigator that he had never seen Derek drunk), I have had a whole 24 hours to prepare for this interview.
After the standard list of questions, I got this one--which I didn't see coming but which laid the groundwork for this year's coup de grace.
I: Do you know if Carl has sponsored anyone to come to the United States? (referring to foreign family members, a mail-order bride or nanny, perhaps--not that he has children or anything)
K: I don't know. You tell me.
I: I'm sorry? (looking very confused)
K: Does he have a wife over there?
I: Over where? (getting the panicked look of an investigator who has now gotten an answer that she wasn't expecting and is at a loss for how to continue)
K: Over at his house. Does he have a wife over there?
I: Huh?
K: Well, you know, Carl is kind of closed-mouth about his personal life. I wouldn't be surprised if he is hiding a spouse over there in his apartment.
Insert sound of VERY LOUD CRICKETS CHIRPING.
K: Ha-ha-ha. Just kidding.
I: Ha. Ha. Ha.
K: No really, I'm just kidding.
Oops.
Tuesday, November 15, 2005
Do you mean literally or figuratively?
The pediatrician, after looking at the Boo's 'stats' for his 9-month check-up/emotional-scarring-through-giving-excessive-shots-and-vaccines remarked, "do abnormally large heads run in your family?"
It's a trick question, right?
It's a trick question, right?
Monday, November 14, 2005
We're back
OK, so we have been back for 26 hours, but who's counting?
Might I just take this opportunity to say that, despite taking an infant on a 1,000 mile road trip, I had a lovely time. The photos of the wedding are up and I will try to add pictures of the old 1801 home of D's great, great, great, (I'm getting bored here) great, great grandfather.
The wedding was fabulous and my eyelashes were the envy of the bridal party. I heard many a "damn, I should have worn MY eyelashes today" muttering. But special thanks goes to my dear friend Renee, 10-year-4H-sewing veteran who assisted me in the making of the stole that will go down in history as the most BLOODY BRILLIANT ARTICLE OF CLOTHING EVER WORN TO AN OUTDOOR WEDDING IN NOVEMBER. Not only did I stay warm and toasty as the photographer almost had a heart attack trying to get the somewhat pickled groomsmen to where they were supposed to be for pictures, I was like the girl on her way to the bar crawl/bachelorette party that decides at the last minute to go with the FMPs AND the feather boa.
That's right. At any given point of the evening, someone was stealing the stole from my shoulders to assist them in completing a complex drunken dance maneuver on the dance floor. It was worth every inch of that $39.99/yard fabric.
Dancing Queen. You betcha.
Might I just take this opportunity to say that, despite taking an infant on a 1,000 mile road trip, I had a lovely time. The photos of the wedding are up and I will try to add pictures of the old 1801 home of D's great, great, great, (I'm getting bored here) great, great grandfather.
The wedding was fabulous and my eyelashes were the envy of the bridal party. I heard many a "damn, I should have worn MY eyelashes today" muttering. But special thanks goes to my dear friend Renee, 10-year-4H-sewing veteran who assisted me in the making of the stole that will go down in history as the most BLOODY BRILLIANT ARTICLE OF CLOTHING EVER WORN TO AN OUTDOOR WEDDING IN NOVEMBER. Not only did I stay warm and toasty as the photographer almost had a heart attack trying to get the somewhat pickled groomsmen to where they were supposed to be for pictures, I was like the girl on her way to the bar crawl/bachelorette party that decides at the last minute to go with the FMPs AND the feather boa.
That's right. At any given point of the evening, someone was stealing the stole from my shoulders to assist them in completing a complex drunken dance maneuver on the dance floor. It was worth every inch of that $39.99/yard fabric.
Dancing Queen. You betcha.
Sunday, November 13, 2005
When fun turns to tragedy
You know, I have never given my sister crap for how she raises her kids. If she doesn't care if they don't bathe for 5 days in a row, what do I care? If they want to discuss politics at age 2, so be it. But I have noticed that my sister is not very respectful of my parenting. Of the dog, that is.
Zinni went to my sister's house while we went up north this week. This morning my phone rings and it is my sister.
J: (kind of hesitant) Hey.
K: (thinking they have managed to kill the dog) Is everything OK?
J: Yeah, we love Zinni. It's like he is our dog. But....
K: But what?
J: I think we may have managed to erase all of his dog manners while you were gone. This morning I came downstairs and he was snoring as he slept on my beige couch. He didn't even bother to get up.
K: WHAT???? DID YOU PUNISH HIM???
J: Well.....I told him that he was a bad dog. We are kind of taking the 'attachment parenting' method with the dog.
K: You didn't punish him?
J: Sort of. And yesterday Carter didn't finish his peaches and Zinni kind of got up on the chair and ate the peaches out of Carter's bowl on the table.
K: (beginning to hyperventilate as I envisioned the 90-pound dog on a dining room chair) Did you punish him?
J: We put him in the cellar after he got crazy upstairs with the kids and scratched Carter. Mada took him right downstairs and put him in the cellar.
K: You said, "Hey, you wearing the fur coat in the hot house, we are going to punish you by taking you AWAY from the 5 kids driving you crazy and put you in the cold, quiet cellar." Yeah, that was good.
J: Well, (sounding affronted) should I have hit him?
K: Ah, no, he has a choke chain for a reason. If he is bad, you pull on the chain and tell him no.
J: That's cruel.
K: How's it going getting all that black hair off the beige couch?
Detox is going to be long and complicated, I'm sure. Wait until the dog has to sleep on the floor again. Poor Zinni.
Zinni went to my sister's house while we went up north this week. This morning my phone rings and it is my sister.
J: (kind of hesitant) Hey.
K: (thinking they have managed to kill the dog) Is everything OK?
J: Yeah, we love Zinni. It's like he is our dog. But....
K: But what?
J: I think we may have managed to erase all of his dog manners while you were gone. This morning I came downstairs and he was snoring as he slept on my beige couch. He didn't even bother to get up.
K: WHAT???? DID YOU PUNISH HIM???
J: Well.....I told him that he was a bad dog. We are kind of taking the 'attachment parenting' method with the dog.
K: You didn't punish him?
J: Sort of. And yesterday Carter didn't finish his peaches and Zinni kind of got up on the chair and ate the peaches out of Carter's bowl on the table.
K: (beginning to hyperventilate as I envisioned the 90-pound dog on a dining room chair) Did you punish him?
J: We put him in the cellar after he got crazy upstairs with the kids and scratched Carter. Mada took him right downstairs and put him in the cellar.
K: You said, "Hey, you wearing the fur coat in the hot house, we are going to punish you by taking you AWAY from the 5 kids driving you crazy and put you in the cold, quiet cellar." Yeah, that was good.
J: Well, (sounding affronted) should I have hit him?
K: Ah, no, he has a choke chain for a reason. If he is bad, you pull on the chain and tell him no.
J: That's cruel.
K: How's it going getting all that black hair off the beige couch?
Detox is going to be long and complicated, I'm sure. Wait until the dog has to sleep on the floor again. Poor Zinni.
Saturday, November 12, 2005
If we have another beer, how are we going to get back to the hotel?
When we got home last night after the hopping rehearsal dinner (where I was referred to as "Photographer" all night by the drunk aunts and cousins of the groom), we discovered that the Boo had a less than stellar night with Marmie. I guess he wailed like a banshee when it came time to call it a night.
This was the first time he had really been left with anyone else since he started this whole "I-want-my-mom-no-I-mean-dad-did-I-say-dad-'cause-I-meant-mom-or-was-it-dad" stage. We were crowded in my hotel office-aka the bathroom, discussing this grave issue when we switched over to discuss the wedding day events.
I mentioned to my mother that I had wedding-related responsibilities at 11, 1, 3:30, and 4. When I noted that we were supposed to get dressed at 1 and the wedding was at 3:30, this may have come out of Marmie's mouth.
"Ah, Kristen, I'm going to guess that you are the only bridesmaid that has been carrying her dress around all week in a ziploc bag."
Don't you just love velvet?
This was the first time he had really been left with anyone else since he started this whole "I-want-my-mom-no-I-mean-dad-did-I-say-dad-'cause-I-meant-mom-or-was-it-dad" stage. We were crowded in my hotel office-aka the bathroom, discussing this grave issue when we switched over to discuss the wedding day events.
I mentioned to my mother that I had wedding-related responsibilities at 11, 1, 3:30, and 4. When I noted that we were supposed to get dressed at 1 and the wedding was at 3:30, this may have come out of Marmie's mouth.
"Ah, Kristen, I'm going to guess that you are the only bridesmaid that has been carrying her dress around all week in a ziploc bag."
Don't you just love velvet?
Sunday, November 06, 2005
Anyone know why we were late to dinner at our friend's house today?
Because we had to stop at 2 East Main Street to find out how much the church was on the market for. For what, you ask?
D: There's our brew pub.
K: No way. You think the church is zoned to be turned into a brew pub?
D: Maybe.
K: What if they don't want us selling beer in a church?
D: We could have "Communion Hour" in lieu of happy hour. Half-price specials.
K: That is so wrong, on so many levels.
D: But there is no parking. We'd have to work out a deal with the church next door to park in their lot.
K: Oh, that's gonna happen.
But a bloody brilliant idea. I'm pissed he came up with it instead of me.
It was only $299,000. I'm thinking we could just live in it if the whole brewery thing doesn't work out (humming "nearer my Lord to thee).
D: There's our brew pub.
K: No way. You think the church is zoned to be turned into a brew pub?
D: Maybe.
K: What if they don't want us selling beer in a church?
D: We could have "Communion Hour" in lieu of happy hour. Half-price specials.
K: That is so wrong, on so many levels.
D: But there is no parking. We'd have to work out a deal with the church next door to park in their lot.
K: Oh, that's gonna happen.
But a bloody brilliant idea. I'm pissed he came up with it instead of me.
It was only $299,000. I'm thinking we could just live in it if the whole brewery thing doesn't work out (humming "nearer my Lord to thee).
Saturday, November 05, 2005
You are killing me here
To my neighbor, who insists on mowing his lawn to the height of indoor/outdoor carpet--
IT IS NOVEMBER! Stop mowing your lawn. Cause I am not mowing mine again. I don't care if it looks like an African savannah in my front yard and I look out and see cheetahs darting across my property. I'm just not feeling the mowing love.
IT IS NOVEMBER! Stop mowing your lawn. Cause I am not mowing mine again. I don't care if it looks like an African savannah in my front yard and I look out and see cheetahs darting across my property. I'm just not feeling the mowing love.
Friday, November 04, 2005
Why I like where I live
This is for Amy.
1. Changing leaves in the fall
2. Being able to run by a lake
3. Great restaurants
4. Historically rich
5. Proximity to vineyards
6. Convenience of the city
7. Diversity of neighborhood
8. Great friends
1. Changing leaves in the fall
2. Being able to run by a lake
3. Great restaurants
4. Historically rich
5. Proximity to vineyards
6. Convenience of the city
7. Diversity of neighborhood
8. Great friends
Thursday, November 03, 2005
I just might be able to get into this whole Sesame Street thing
I'm not sure, but I think the Boo is the only baby in America that cannot be bothered with Baby Einstein videos. You know, those dumb ass videos involving overpriced toys being played with by hand puppets, all to the classics. I guess he won't be getting those extra 30 IQ points that supposedly come along with watching the videos.
Don't get me wrong. The kid will watch TV. Senate Confirmation Hearings, yes. Food for Oil scandal stories on CNN, yes. Mansfield Park, yes. Little puppets dancing to Bach, no dice.
But desperate times call for desperate measures. I mean, how steady will the confirmation hearings be? Long enough for me to vacuum while Ted Kennedy's colossal head captivates my infant and maintains his rapt attention? What about the dusting? Forget about the dusting. What about next month when I have to vacuum again?
So I started to TiVo Sesame Street. It has lots to offer. I learned my first Beatles song thanks to Sesame Street.
"Letter B, letter B, letter B, letter B. She whispers "Buh-buh-buh means Letter B."
When I turned it on the other day (after my approximate 28 year sabbatical), I got the 2003 rerun with the Goo Goo Dolls singing "Pride," to the tune of one of my all-time favorites, "Slide."
(Sung by Johnny) Elmo, whisper in my ear,
I really wanna hear,
The things you did today
That satisfied you...
(Sung by Elmo) Elmo reached the highest shelf,
He got dressed by himself,
And Elmo wants to say
He's filled with pride, yeah!
(Sung by Johnny) When you've done the best you could,
You feel really, really good!
You're feelin' that pride!
Yeah, gonna feel that pride...
You helped your mother bake a pie,
You fell and didn't cry,
You made your bed and said
Your ABC's
(Sung by Elmo)Elmo learned to tie his shoe,
He added two and two,
Elmo drank up all his milk
And ate his peas!
(Sung by Johnny) When you've done the best you could,
You feel really, really good!
You're feelin' that pride!
Ooh, pride...
And you can be the monster that you
Dreamed you'd always be.
(Sung by Elmo) Elmo's feelin' that nothing can stop him!
(Sung by Johnny) Elmo nothing is beyond you,
Let those good thoughts fill your head,
You are furry, proud and red!
(Sung by Elmo) Elmo...no one can top him!
(Sung by Johnny) And he's so proud!
(Sung by John) Be the best that you can be...
(Sung by Elmo) Elmo is so proud of ME!
Nothing like Johnny Rzeznik to take a song about a knocked up girl and remake it into a song that uses the line "You're furry, proud and red."
D came in as I was playing it for the millionth time. In fact, the last time I watched a scene this many times was the volleyball scene in Top Gun (thank you, Rick Rossovich, aka "Slider"). I felt like I just been caught pulling my underwear out of my butt at church.
Thank you, Johnny, for reminding me that I can be the monster I always dreamed that I could be.
Don't get me wrong. The kid will watch TV. Senate Confirmation Hearings, yes. Food for Oil scandal stories on CNN, yes. Mansfield Park, yes. Little puppets dancing to Bach, no dice.
But desperate times call for desperate measures. I mean, how steady will the confirmation hearings be? Long enough for me to vacuum while Ted Kennedy's colossal head captivates my infant and maintains his rapt attention? What about the dusting? Forget about the dusting. What about next month when I have to vacuum again?
So I started to TiVo Sesame Street. It has lots to offer. I learned my first Beatles song thanks to Sesame Street.
"Letter B, letter B, letter B, letter B. She whispers "Buh-buh-buh means Letter B."
When I turned it on the other day (after my approximate 28 year sabbatical), I got the 2003 rerun with the Goo Goo Dolls singing "Pride," to the tune of one of my all-time favorites, "Slide."
(Sung by Johnny) Elmo, whisper in my ear,
I really wanna hear,
The things you did today
That satisfied you...
(Sung by Elmo) Elmo reached the highest shelf,
He got dressed by himself,
And Elmo wants to say
He's filled with pride, yeah!
(Sung by Johnny) When you've done the best you could,
You feel really, really good!
You're feelin' that pride!
Yeah, gonna feel that pride...
You helped your mother bake a pie,
You fell and didn't cry,
You made your bed and said
Your ABC's
(Sung by Elmo)Elmo learned to tie his shoe,
He added two and two,
Elmo drank up all his milk
And ate his peas!
(Sung by Johnny) When you've done the best you could,
You feel really, really good!
You're feelin' that pride!
Ooh, pride...
And you can be the monster that you
Dreamed you'd always be.
(Sung by Elmo) Elmo's feelin' that nothing can stop him!
(Sung by Johnny) Elmo nothing is beyond you,
Let those good thoughts fill your head,
You are furry, proud and red!
(Sung by Elmo) Elmo...no one can top him!
(Sung by Johnny) And he's so proud!
(Sung by John) Be the best that you can be...
(Sung by Elmo) Elmo is so proud of ME!
Nothing like Johnny Rzeznik to take a song about a knocked up girl and remake it into a song that uses the line "You're furry, proud and red."
D came in as I was playing it for the millionth time. In fact, the last time I watched a scene this many times was the volleyball scene in Top Gun (thank you, Rick Rossovich, aka "Slider"). I felt like I just been caught pulling my underwear out of my butt at church.
Thank you, Johnny, for reminding me that I can be the monster I always dreamed that I could be.
Wednesday, November 02, 2005
"Low Points of the Day" or "how-I-contemplated-suicide-at-least-a-dozen-times"
1. Asked D if we could have a Christmas party this year...
(can you hear the cricket chirping?)
What the hell is it about men that make them think that if they don't even acknowledge that a question has been asked, then they can pretend it never was actually asked. I could actually hear the wheels churning in his head--
K: You are totally trying to come up with a way to say "no" that will not succeed in making me think that we MUST have a party and now I should invite twice as many people as I had originally planned.
D: Sort of???
2. Asked the electrician (who had the audacity to show up at my house 45 minutes early when D was still home--kind of blew my whole "baby, I fixed the electrical problem" story that I had concocted) if I had managed to get it close to right with the 3 way switch, outlets and hardwiring the lights over the cabinets.
E: Ah, no.
Well, you can kiss your tip goodbye there, David.
3. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD AND COUNTRY, could someone please explain why the hell I cook a gourmet dinner every day and my child insists on finding every stray piece of dog food which then ends up in his mouth? The monster doesn't want to eat the butternut squash that I so kindly ROASTED for him, but he'll eat the damn Lamb and Rice dog food. Dog food--parts of parts of animals. I put the dog food away and still the kid manages to find a piece. Make that 4 pieces today. Every time I catch him, I throw up a little in my mouth. And why the hell can't the DAMN DOG find the stray pieces? What is his friggin' contribution to this family if he can't even keep his food out of the baby's mouth?
(can you hear the cricket chirping?)
What the hell is it about men that make them think that if they don't even acknowledge that a question has been asked, then they can pretend it never was actually asked. I could actually hear the wheels churning in his head--
K: You are totally trying to come up with a way to say "no" that will not succeed in making me think that we MUST have a party and now I should invite twice as many people as I had originally planned.
D: Sort of???
2. Asked the electrician (who had the audacity to show up at my house 45 minutes early when D was still home--kind of blew my whole "baby, I fixed the electrical problem" story that I had concocted) if I had managed to get it close to right with the 3 way switch, outlets and hardwiring the lights over the cabinets.
E: Ah, no.
Well, you can kiss your tip goodbye there, David.
3. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD AND COUNTRY, could someone please explain why the hell I cook a gourmet dinner every day and my child insists on finding every stray piece of dog food which then ends up in his mouth? The monster doesn't want to eat the butternut squash that I so kindly ROASTED for him, but he'll eat the damn Lamb and Rice dog food. Dog food--parts of parts of animals. I put the dog food away and still the kid manages to find a piece. Make that 4 pieces today. Every time I catch him, I throw up a little in my mouth. And why the hell can't the DAMN DOG find the stray pieces? What is his friggin' contribution to this family if he can't even keep his food out of the baby's mouth?
Tuesday, November 01, 2005
Mama's got a new baby
For two days I have been waiting. Waiting for the FedEx man to arrive. For two days I have remained in this house, waiting, waiting, waiting. I have come to realize that I am really not a SAHM, as I thought, but a DGTARJM (Doesn't-Go-To-A-Real-Job-Mother). I realized this after Staying-At-Home for two days.
Reality is that I am never at home. I am forever dragging the Boo somewhere. I go out for one errand and suddenly I find myself the mother-version of Ferris Bueller--realizing it is 5 minutes 'til and I still have 10 blocks to go to beat D home. Flying through the side streets, praying that the train is running late and somehow, someway I will make it home before he does. Hoping that he doesn't see the steam from the front of the car as he walks past it. Leaping from the front door to the couch, over the dog. Kicking my shoes off as I go.
So this evening when D mentioned that there was a truck in front of the house, I went running outside, hopping around like a cheerleader at the Homecoming game. Much to the chagrin of the FedEx guy, I hopped onto the truck.
K: I have been WAITING for TWO days for you!!!!
FEG: You have? There was a mixup on the address.
K: I haven't LEFT MY HOUSE IN TWO DAYS AND I HAVE BABY!!! If you hadn't shown up tonight, I probably would have met your truck tomorrow with a gun. I was going CRAZY.
FEG: What are you waiting for?
K: My computer.
FEG: Well all I have for you is this little box.
K: That's my computer.
FEG: It can't be. The box is too small.
K: Watch.
With that, I took my brand new baby girl out of her box. And she looked like this...
I would like to thank the FedEx guy for sharing in my special moment. The birth of my baby girl Cookie.
Isn't she cute?
Monday, October 31, 2005
Best missed picture
The mother arm wrestling her round little girl to get her to release her grasp on the 11 pieces of candy she managed to grab with one hand from my candy bowl.
Round little girl won. Another win for childhood obesity in the US of A.
BEST LINE
The grown woman with the dog dressed as Batman.
"The candy is for my dog."
Cause that's what dogs eat--chocolate.
Round little girl won. Another win for childhood obesity in the US of A.
BEST LINE
The grown woman with the dog dressed as Batman.
"The candy is for my dog."
Cause that's what dogs eat--chocolate.
To fry or not to fry
I was quite the picky eater growing up. Canvas the extended family and you will find that every relative remembers the same scenario at every family party. Me and rolls and chips. I guess it was the rare situation when my mother just let me eat what I wanted.
So now the fight begins about what the Boo can and cannot eat. His father has been begging me for weeks now--"he NEEDS french fries." Yeah, like he needs a hole in his head. Then we'll become the people who take their kid to dinner and order a side of fries to go with our Dungeness Crab or our Alaskan Sockeye.
You know those people whose kids only eat french fries. Occasionally they'll eat a sugar-coated cereal for breakfast, but the mother spends twice a day in the McDonald's drive thru. I can't do it.
My fear is being that mother. I mean, it's a slippery slope. First it is a french fry for dinner and then the kid is mainlining waffle fries, steak fries, shoelace fries. I'll go up to his crib in the night to check on him and there will be a mound of french fries in that corner that he hoarded in his little chipmunk cheeks until he was able to free his stash (presumably for a late night snack).
This weekend the kid had his first fry. He also had his first asparagus. His reaction to each could have been interchangable. Mild interest.
There is a God and He loves me.
So now the fight begins about what the Boo can and cannot eat. His father has been begging me for weeks now--"he NEEDS french fries." Yeah, like he needs a hole in his head. Then we'll become the people who take their kid to dinner and order a side of fries to go with our Dungeness Crab or our Alaskan Sockeye.
You know those people whose kids only eat french fries. Occasionally they'll eat a sugar-coated cereal for breakfast, but the mother spends twice a day in the McDonald's drive thru. I can't do it.
My fear is being that mother. I mean, it's a slippery slope. First it is a french fry for dinner and then the kid is mainlining waffle fries, steak fries, shoelace fries. I'll go up to his crib in the night to check on him and there will be a mound of french fries in that corner that he hoarded in his little chipmunk cheeks until he was able to free his stash (presumably for a late night snack).
This weekend the kid had his first fry. He also had his first asparagus. His reaction to each could have been interchangable. Mild interest.
There is a God and He loves me.
Friday, October 28, 2005
Bob, can you cue the "Hallelujah Chorus" please?
Guess who is providing electric only for themselves again???? That's right. As the three electrical trucks pulled away from the front of the house this afternoon, I looked out the window to find the power cord back on my driveway. No "thank you very much, we are done building our house with your power" or anything.
Having received a lecture from my mother on setting boundaries (something I found completely impossible because frankly, who is going to anticipate that when the neighbor asks for an electrical cord to run a couple of lamps, they are then going to jackhammer the brick off the front of the house? I can't be the only person who didn't see that coming), I will be sure to draft a contract the next time someone asks for a similar favor. But her point was well taken (and as always, her heart was in the right place).
It's amazing how leaving the house for the better part of the day when it is 45 degrees and the contractor being forced to get a generator TWO DAYS IN A ROW directly corresponds with the electrician showing up (after 3 weeks). So long to that co-dependent relationship.
I will miss those days of heading down to the pitch black basement with only a match light to guide me (since I can't find one friggin' flashlight even though we must have a THOUSAND in this house and who would think to light one of the 8 million candles I have in every nook and cranny). I will miss the power going out as I vacuumed, when I was TiVo-ing the Charlie Brown Halloween show so Boo could have his first Charlie Brown experience (who really watches the middle 14 minutes of a 30 minute show anyway?), and having to leave all the lights on in the basement.
I still think they should have mowed my lawn for me as thanks. Now that would have made it all worthwhile.
Having received a lecture from my mother on setting boundaries (something I found completely impossible because frankly, who is going to anticipate that when the neighbor asks for an electrical cord to run a couple of lamps, they are then going to jackhammer the brick off the front of the house? I can't be the only person who didn't see that coming), I will be sure to draft a contract the next time someone asks for a similar favor. But her point was well taken (and as always, her heart was in the right place).
It's amazing how leaving the house for the better part of the day when it is 45 degrees and the contractor being forced to get a generator TWO DAYS IN A ROW directly corresponds with the electrician showing up (after 3 weeks). So long to that co-dependent relationship.
I will miss those days of heading down to the pitch black basement with only a match light to guide me (since I can't find one friggin' flashlight even though we must have a THOUSAND in this house and who would think to light one of the 8 million candles I have in every nook and cranny). I will miss the power going out as I vacuumed, when I was TiVo-ing the Charlie Brown Halloween show so Boo could have his first Charlie Brown experience (who really watches the middle 14 minutes of a 30 minute show anyway?), and having to leave all the lights on in the basement.
I still think they should have mowed my lawn for me as thanks. Now that would have made it all worthwhile.
Thursday, October 27, 2005
How manly is manly?
I went shopping today and brought home two very important items. The first being the Mac lashes that I will apply with super glue to my eyelids when I am in the wedding with the five anorexics in two weeks (in hopes that my #4's will draw attention away from the fact that I am the only person over 100 pounds in this wedding). I think that between the lashes and the low-cut clothing, my diversion will be complete and effective.
The second important item was the red and green plaid flannel shirt for the Boo to wear for his Christmas picture. What I did not anticipate was his father's reaction.
K: Isn't this the cutest little shirt?
D: Yeah, it's alright (full well knowing that 'alright' is the equivalent to the 'you don't look too fat in that outfit').
K: Alright? What does that mean?
D: Well......................it's not like it is the most masculine shirt.
K: Masculine? The kid is 8 months old. It's a flannel shapeless shirt. What would make it masculine? If it was rust colored and had motor oil stains on the front of it, would that make it masculine? How about beer stains?
D: Well, don't get upset. I'm just saying that you are wanting me to say it's the greatest shirt I have ever seen, and I'm not going to say that because it's not.
K: Kind of like when you said the Sesame Crusted Tuna Medallions with Ponzu sauce I made last night weren't "the greatest tuna that I ever had but it isn't that bad" comment? Let me tell you something, mister. I went to the rack with the UGLIEST clothes on it and looked for the shirt that would match YOUR CLOTHES. I figured that in every single picture of you from the age of 7 to 20 you are wearing some DAMN FLANNEL SHIRT that perhaps you would be proud to have your own personal "Mini Me." Even though they came to mind, I kept my fantasies of the Boo wearing a pretentious, and frankly downright ostentatious red Polo SWEATER VEST to myself. You know what his friend is wearing in his Christmas picture????? It's a tossup between the red jacket with POOH in 72 font across it and a big fat HONEY POT or a red and grey argyle sweater vest. I bring home the Lumberjack Christmas Flannel Shirt and you are pissy.
D: So.....do you wanna go to bed?
K: Ah, not just no but HELL NO.
I am so going out tomorrow and buying the Boo the PeaPod Halloween outfit. You want to see unmasculine......
The second important item was the red and green plaid flannel shirt for the Boo to wear for his Christmas picture. What I did not anticipate was his father's reaction.
K: Isn't this the cutest little shirt?
D: Yeah, it's alright (full well knowing that 'alright' is the equivalent to the 'you don't look too fat in that outfit').
K: Alright? What does that mean?
D: Well......................it's not like it is the most masculine shirt.
K: Masculine? The kid is 8 months old. It's a flannel shapeless shirt. What would make it masculine? If it was rust colored and had motor oil stains on the front of it, would that make it masculine? How about beer stains?
D: Well, don't get upset. I'm just saying that you are wanting me to say it's the greatest shirt I have ever seen, and I'm not going to say that because it's not.
K: Kind of like when you said the Sesame Crusted Tuna Medallions with Ponzu sauce I made last night weren't "the greatest tuna that I ever had but it isn't that bad" comment? Let me tell you something, mister. I went to the rack with the UGLIEST clothes on it and looked for the shirt that would match YOUR CLOTHES. I figured that in every single picture of you from the age of 7 to 20 you are wearing some DAMN FLANNEL SHIRT that perhaps you would be proud to have your own personal "Mini Me." Even though they came to mind, I kept my fantasies of the Boo wearing a pretentious, and frankly downright ostentatious red Polo SWEATER VEST to myself. You know what his friend is wearing in his Christmas picture????? It's a tossup between the red jacket with POOH in 72 font across it and a big fat HONEY POT or a red and grey argyle sweater vest. I bring home the Lumberjack Christmas Flannel Shirt and you are pissy.
D: So.....do you wanna go to bed?
K: Ah, not just no but HELL NO.
I am so going out tomorrow and buying the Boo the PeaPod Halloween outfit. You want to see unmasculine......
Mean things your professor might be saying behind your back to his wife
"Fred is like a squirrel trying to run across the highway. He is going everywhere except where he is supposed to be. Just go straight across the road. It's not that difficult."
Wednesday, October 26, 2005
Enough with this, Goldilocks
Last night I was too cold to put the baby back in his bed in the middle of the night and God forbid his father do it. The child then proceeded to cry and whine all night long. It's OK, cause sleep is SO overrated.
We were crowding him.
He couldn't get close enough.
He was too hot.
He was too cold.
His feet got tangled in the covers.
He wanted to sleep with his head on my pillow--his BIG FAT HEAD on my pillow.
He wanted me off what was now HIS pillow.
He wanted to stand up.
He was too tired to lay back down.
I had the gall to turn my back to him.
I was bugging him by facing him.
He didn't want to go to sleep.
He didn't want to wake up.
I need the Give-the-Gypsies-A-Baby hotline number. Anyone got it?
We were crowding him.
He couldn't get close enough.
He was too hot.
He was too cold.
His feet got tangled in the covers.
He wanted to sleep with his head on my pillow--his BIG FAT HEAD on my pillow.
He wanted me off what was now HIS pillow.
He wanted to stand up.
He was too tired to lay back down.
I had the gall to turn my back to him.
I was bugging him by facing him.
He didn't want to go to sleep.
He didn't want to wake up.
I need the Give-the-Gypsies-A-Baby hotline number. Anyone got it?
Tuesday, October 25, 2005
You can't make this up
The guy taking the picture of his kids picking out a pumpkin at FRESH FIELDS supermarket.
"Come on, Connor. Give me a smile and look at the camera."
I'm wondering if their Christmas picture is taken in front of the tree at Nordstrom's.
"Come on, Connor. Give me a smile and look at the camera."
I'm wondering if their Christmas picture is taken in front of the tree at Nordstrom's.
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