misc & co.

My Apologies Unca' Stevie

2009-08-06T13:43:00.002-05:00

I've been reading a long time. According to my mother, I began reading independently when I was around 3 and after that never wanted her (or anybody) to read to me again. I wanted to read it myself.

Fast forward seven or so years and, courtesy of my best friend and her older brother, I'd already read the Lord of The Rings trilogy (a couple of times). Fantasy and Sci-Fi ruled my reading life.

I was a member of the Science-Fiction Book Club (think Book-of-the-Month but only featuring sci-fi and fantasy). I read the biggies, the not-so-biggies and everything in between: Tolkien, Roger Zelazny, Terry Brooks, Piers Anthony, Marion Zimmer Bradley, Anne McCaffrey, Bradbury. I subscribed to "The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction" and thoroughly read each digest-sized issue; devouring everything cover to cover.

Horror is a sub-genre of sci-fi and fantasy, so it was somewhat natural for me to branch off into horror fiction. I can't remember when I first started reading Stephen King's novels and short stories. I must have been around 14 or so. But I know I've read and reread many of his works (Cujo, Christine and Night Shift stand out in my mind. But I've never been able to finish 'Salem's Lot. It's just too scary.). The bulk of my teen years my home life was a horror show so reading about a possessed car or a crazed dog was a nice escape.

Once I reached my 20's, though, I left off reading Mr. King. There was no specific reason I stopped. I just did. Maybe it was because he was a very popular writer (has been for well over 30 years now - there's a very good reason for that) and I was all about not reading "popular" fiction. I moved on to other writers (Neil Gaiman, in particular) and horror lost its luster for me after my dad died.

I haven't read any of Stephen King's work in well over 20 years.

Recently though I downloaded King's non-fiction work, On Writing, to my Kindle (one of the most awesome birthday gifts I've received). I had forgotten what a true master craftsman Stephen King is. Boy howdy, he knows his stuff. His writing is clear, simple yet still elegant, spot-on brilliant. That's what had hooked me as a kid: not so much the horror, but his style (that and I loved that the most mundane thing in the world could become completely terrifying). On Writing is an amazing how-to. I'm about half-way through and have highlighted several passages that I will use with my students this year. It's a must read for any one who enjoys writing.

Stephen King also writes regularly for "Entertainment Weekly" (one of the many mags I subscribe to). His writing is as clean and crisp as ever in his editorials, reinforcing his status as one of this country's most gifted writers. He's smart, honest, unmuddied. He's Unca' Stevie to his readers.

Including this one.

And Unca' Stevie? I'm sorry for not reading the Dark Tower books. Or Misery. Or The Stand. Or the myriad of other stories you've published over the past two decades. I'll make up for it. I promise.

Spooky

2009-08-05T12:57:00.004-05:00

This is exactly the way Flynn's saying "sorry" these days, though she's not anywhere near as evil as Gilly, the amazing Kristen Wiig's SNL character.

I love my little girl.

Lazy. Hazy. You Know The Rest

2009-08-03T15:32:00.005-05:00

As Quigs, Loosey, and Harley so gently reminded me on Saturday, I haven't posted in quite a while. I've had ideas for posts floating around in my mind, then they'd get jumbled up with ideas for my upcoming classes and when I'd sit down to write I'd just get tired and/or frustrated and I'd just play a round of Bejeweled instead. I haven't really been even reading any blogs or leaving any comments. I've been AWOL.

Excuses, excuses.

So this is what I've been up to: teaching my son to ride a two-wheeled bike (took him a couple of hours to get the hang of it and we've been going for a lot of bike rides), spending time at the pool (when it's warm enough to go), putting together a professional wardrobe for myself (no easy feat), squeezing in a workout when I can, writing up a syllabus and reading list for my future students, general hausfrauery, AND planning and executing two birthday parties for my daughter, who recently turned 6.

Yes, two parties; one so she could get together with her school friends and one with family and family friends. You'd think that since Pokemon are still very popular there'd be Pokemon party stuff all over this town. Not so. I could not find one single iota of Pokemon merchandise (other than toys & playing cards). So I made my own invites, which after I'd totally MacGyvered a stack of invitations, friends who are scrapbookers said "Why didn't you call me? I have a circle cutter."

The parties went off without a hitch. Flynn is very happy to be six. She's starting to lose her babyness and when I look at her sometimes I'm momentarily breathless; she's growing up so fast, my baby girl, my second child. First grade looms ahead and she's excited.

I've also been settling into my 40th year and celebrated that simple fact last Sat. with friends and family. I hadn't had a birthday party in a decade, but after this last one I realized it's something I should do every year. Cupcakes from I Dream In Sugar were amazing; gorgeous to the eyes and on the tongue. Frank and my sister were responsible for all the planning (well, mostly Katy) and it was superb. But the best part was seeing friends I had not seen in a long time. One of my dearest friends from college drove over from Springfield and a few folks drove down from Chicagoland (one of whom is expecting twins in January). I just wish there would've been more time to talk with every one.

You know me and music. Of course I've been scouting out new tunes. Love Amazon's deal of the day for downloading mp3 files.

Ben Lee is one of my new favorites. "I Love Pop Music" is off his new album, The Rebirth of Venus. It's a fun, melodic poke in the side of popular music and those who make it.

I can't make any promises, but I will try to get back in the swing of things and write a little more often.

That's My Daughter

2009-07-11T16:37:00.002-05:00

My little girl will be 6 years old in 14 days. And every day she asks me "How many days until my birthday?" Every. day.

She knows she will be six yet her age varies with her mood. For example she was playing with her dolls yesterday and said she was their mom and she'd taken Sophie (her doll) to the Pink Poodle (a hair salon in St. Joe that caters to little girls) because it was her birthday. Sophie turned 6. When I asked Flynn how old she was, since she was Sophie's mom, she replied, "Eighteen."

Which just about gave me a heart attack.

Other days Flynn's content to be five for the time being and she doesn't want to be six.

I know exactly how she feels. Some days I don't want to be 40, but I am. I just can't help it, especially since my birthday was last Monday and I said "Adios, 30's, it was nice knowing you."

So.

It's become something of a tradition for me to make a mix disc for birthday party favors and Flynn and I have been mulling over the choices for her upcoming party, one of which is Loudon Wainwright III's "Daughter" from the Knocked Up soundtrack (I haven't seen the movie, but love the music from it).

After hearing this song, Flynn asked "Can you do that Mommy? Can you get me everything I want for my birthday like the daddy in the song did?"

Uh, no.

But I wish I could pull down the moon for my daughter.

Shame On You, CNN

2009-07-08T14:18:00.003-05:00

OK, so I'm at the gym this morning doing my thing on the elliptical machine; huffing and puffing away and I glance up at the bank of TV's on the wall. The Price Is Right briefly held my attention (somebody should tell Drew Carey that he needs a haircut), I forget what was on the tube next to that but the third one over was tuned to CNN. I was reading the closed captioning and the headlines scrolling along the bottom of the set when they showed a clip from Michael Jackson's memorial service yesterday.

You probably know the clip I'm talking about; Michael's 11-year-old daughter, Paris-Michael, addressed the assembled crowd and millions of people watching around the world. She said she loved her Daddy and missed him very much, then collapsed in tears.

God, how that little girl touched my heart. I know her pain; I know she will have to accept that some questions will go unanswered and she will hurt for a very, very long time. I was amazed she had the wherewithal to speak at all. I did not speak at my father's memorial service; I did not trust my voice.

So after that clip of one distressed, very brave little girl the anchor asks for a CNN poll: "What was your favorite moment of the Michael Jackson memorial?"

That pissed me off and struck me as incredibly crass. Like this memorial service was supposed to be entertaining? It was a tribute to a dead man; a way of honoring his life and a way for his family and fans to say good-bye. Would anybody answer "My favorite part was witnessing a little girl's heartbreak at loosing the only parent she's ever known"?

Did CNN poll viewers for their favorite part of Princess Diana's funeral? What moron would answer "Watching her children cry?"

I did not watch the Michael Jackson memorial, so I don't know what all happened. I've only seen the bit of Paris-Michael. But exploiting this child in the name of a viewer poll is beyond shameless. Her brief statement brought some clarity to this loss. Yes, the public has lost a popular entertainer, but Michael Jackson was more than his public persona. He was a son, a daddy, a friend. My heart goes out to his children.

So, shame on you CNN. Shame. on. you.

Hit The Road, Lady

2009-07-01T19:08:00.007-05:00

This time a week ago I was on the road with my mom and sister headed in a southeasterly direction.

My birthday is less than a week away and this is one of those milestone birthdays; one that begins with a four and ends in a zero. So to commemorate the occasion, we decided to take a road trip, something the three of us had not done together in well over 13 years (and that was a weekend in Cincinnati for a family wedding).

Originally, I wanted to go west to San Francisco's Napa Valley. But after pricing airfare, car rental and hotel accommodations, I decided something within driving range would be more cost effective and we'd have money left over to do stuff like eat somewhere other than Burger King or McDonald's.
After some research, I settled on Asheville, North Carolina home of the famed Biltmore Estate. The Estate has its own winery so that sealed the deal. My husband is allergic to wine so this trip would not have been any fun for him, so it's good that he stayed home.

The Biltmore may be THE attraction in Asheville, but the town is nice enough on its own. I really dig its artsy/artisanal/conservationist/organic/locavore vibe. Several locally owned eateries use ingredients that are either made/grown in and around Asheville or North Carolina in general. And that includes liquor and ice cream. I am now a fan of the French Broad Chocolate Lounge and Posana Cafe. People in Asheville give a damn about their food. And their jewelry; I scored a very cool necklace made from old nickles, a bracelet made from old soda bottle caps, and another bracelet made from old watch faces and dimes.

We stayed at the super cool Grand Bohemian Hotel. I would stay there again in a heartbeat. And their spa was on our floor, just down the hall and around the corner from our room. The massage/body wrap/facial I received was heavenly.

The tour of the Biltmore was pretty neat, if not staggering on a grand scale. It's just massive and completely unexpected and beautiful. The gardens, of which we only saw two, were gorgeous and the aroma of the lavender separating the rose garden from the medicinal garden was heady and intoxicating on the warm, sunny Summer day.We decided not to return home the way we had come; the only other city of interest on the way north is Nashville, Tennessee, a place I'd never been.

The three of us are not fans of country music. Oh sure, when I was a kid my mom took us to Bluegrass concerts (I probably saw Alison Krauss at some point) but contemporary country music (you know, artists like Taylor Swift, Keith Urban, et al) are not my cup of tea. There's not a lot to do in Nashville if you don't like the music issuing forth from every.single.bar on Broadway Ave. Other than shop and people watch.

Our hotel, the Hutton, was almost the antithesis of Asheville's Grand Bohemian: sleek, modern, linear. Very chic. A nice welcome to the city I wasn't sure I liked to begin with. The vibe in Nashville is very different from Asheville. Like the difference between C-U and Chicago. Nashville is harder, grittier, not as forthcoming as Asheville, and there's a whiff of desperation in the air there that was missing in the mountains of North Carolina. Or that impression may just be because my mom, sister and I witnessed a shoplifting at the convenience store while I was getting some cash from the ATM within the first 30 minutes of entering the city.

We did the touristy thing: go down Broadway to the entertainment district. And we were entertained, but not by the folks you'd think. We ate BBQ at Rippey's (it was OK) and had an ice cream at Mike's. After a couple of hours of avoiding hustling doormen and skanky ladies we retired to our hotel. The next day we visited the Parthenon replica at Centennial Park, which is surprising and awe-inspiring. It gave me hope for Nashville; that it isn't just the glitz and grit of Music City, that it has depth. Shopping was on our agenda and we did just that. All day. Then had dinner at the tres fab Germantown Cafe.

Sunday was an all-day drive home. We were exhausted but very happy. I can't think of a better way to spend time with two of my life-long favorite people: my beautiful mother and sister. I am blessed to have them as family and, possibly more importantly, as two amazing friends.

We're already planning the next excursion: Mexico in three years to celebrate Mom's turning 70 and Katy's turn at becoming 40. I should start my passport renewal process tomorrow...

Until then, I'll sip a glass of wine from the Biltmore's winery and relive those good times.

Boldly Going

2009-06-11T08:57:00.002-05:00

I've had something in the works recently that I chose not to write about until now.

About three weeks ago, while reading the church bulletin after Mass, I noticed that the local Catholic high school was looking to fill two full-time teaching positions in their English department.

I ain't stupid. I know when Unseen Forces Are At Work.

After talking with Frank, Evan, Flynn, my mom and sister and various friends, I came to the conclusion that it was time for me to return to teaching full-time. Or at the very least try.

So I began the many-hooped process of seeking out a teaching job in the Catholic Diocese of Peoria and sent off a cover letter and resume to the high school's principal.

Last week I went in for an interview and came out with a fire in my belly and a desire to teach I hadn't felt in a very long time.

Yesterday I was called in for my second interview to meet with the school's chaplain (who is on his way to a new assignment) and again speak with the school's principal and vice principal.

When he said, "If we don't offer you the position, would you consider substitute teaching here? We really like to have certified teachers as subs." I thought, "Uh-oh." And I came home feeling not nearly as confident as I had the week before.

Boy, am I glad my intuition was wrong.

I am now the Junior English teacher. I was offered the position this morning, which I very gladly accepted (then did a Very Happy Dance).

"I knew you'd get it." said my pleased-as-punch son.

Now the real work begins: putting together syllabi (I'll have 2 preps: regular & honors American Lit.), devising writing assignments (BelleNoelle, I may be seeking out your hubby's advice), making contact with my department members, finishing up the application process for the Diocese (which involves making sure they receive a copy of my teaching certificate and some other paperwork), and putting together a school wardrobe. And purchasing a laptop.

So. Onward and upward I go.

3 In 2

2009-06-09T19:20:00.004-05:00

My sewing machines had lain dormant since before Christmas and it was high time I busted them out lest they start feeling neglected.

And I had baby quilts to make.
First up was a little something for a family friend who recently welcomed baby #3 into her brood. This little babyman, joining two big sisters, will receive a very boyish blankie made from vintage reproduction fabric sporting cowboys & cowgirls lassoing ponies and white horseshoes on a red back ground. I complimented the 6" squares with 4-patches of a green bandanna print and mottled brown (I thought it looked a bit like worn leather). The quilt is backed in soft red fleece and quilted with embroidery thread in denim blue (to match the kids' clothing) and an orangey-brown matching the color of the ponies in the cowboy print.

Baby blankie #2 is also for a baby boy, also a #3 child (he has a big brother & sister). His mommy is the sister of the mommy of the baby I made the first blanket for (confused yet?). Yep, both sisters found out they were each expecting their third child within a month of each other. Each baby was a surprise.

Anyway, Baby A's quilt is made from 3" strips of three different fabrics: a Curious George print, a red with teeny white dots, and a mulitcolored stripe that I ran horizontally. It is backed in white flannel and quilted with green embroidery thread, to match the satin binding. I went with the Curious George print for two reasons: 1) I think it's cute and 2) I'm fresh out of Thomas the Tank Engine fabric.

SPOILER ALERT: Mommy, Queen of Everything do not look at the following picture as it's the quilt for your little princeling whenever he deigns to make an appearance. I hope he likes it (you, too).
I think this quilt turned out really well. The 6" blocks are made from a super cute owl print I scored at Hancock's or JoAnn's last year and from a pillowcase I had tucked away for quilt-making. I routinely use sheets for quilts and I thought this grey print worked well with the owls and the backing (the grey-dotted flannel). The coordinating 4-patches are made from a blue on white twig-like print and an orange & white check. The quilting is done with a steely-blue that matches a color in the owl print and an olive green that, again, pulls color from the owls.

Manly, yes, but soft enough for a baby.

So that's what I've been up to.

The next sewing project is pj's for the kids. Evan has outgrown the ones I made last year (Flynn's now wearing them) and he's begging me for new ones.

I hope I have enough fabric.

That's What Friends Are For

2009-06-08T09:30:00.002-05:00

You all know how freaky the weather's been lately - cold, rainy/hot, rainy. Luckily, last Friday was gorgeous: not too hot or humid, sunny, temps in the upper 70's.

Perfect for heading to the pool.

Which the kids and I did.

I chatted with friends who happened to be there with their kids while mine splashed and cavorted. like the little fish they are. Evan was delighted when he realized one of his best friends was there and they immediately paired up to play.

Then I realized they weren't anywhere near me.

I didn't panic per se, but I was concerned. My son is a very proficient swimmer so I wasn't afraid he was in a part of the pool where he couldn't touch the bottom, but you never know who's at the pool, you know?

Then I spied the two boys over by the lazy river, headed up to the water slide. I was relieved and grabbed Flynn to go talk to my son, to remind him the importance of telling me where he's going.

I caught up with him and said, "Evan, next time you want to come over to this part of the park, tell me first before just walking off. I didn't know where you were and was a little bit afraid. It scared me to not know where you were."

His response?

"Sorry, Mom. I'm going to go get G so he can share the shame."

Apparently, This Is Me

2009-05-24T10:59:00.003-05:00

Oftentimes around the dinner table my family and I quiz each other on either super hero and/or Star Wars trivia. Last night Frank asked Evan, "If Mommy were a Star Wars character, which one would she be?"

I was anticipating Princess Leia or Padme Amidala, at the least, though I'd say I'm more of a Mon Mothma.

What came out of my son's mouth was certainly not what I expected. "Sometimes, Mom, your attitude is like a rancor."

Great. My son occasionally sees me as a rancor, one of the most deadly and poorly-tempered beasties in the Star Wars universe. Not to mention, it isn't exactly easy on the eyes.

I wonder, though, if this idea of his will make him clean his room any quicker or remember to put his dirty clothes in the hamper. Maybe as a reminder I'll just have to say, "Don't make me go all rancor on you."

This could be a good thing.

Teacher Let The Monkeys Out

2009-05-22T12:25:00.002-05:00

Today was the last day of school. The kids went in for Mass, then received their report cards and we were out the doors by 9:15. It's been an awesome school year, filled to the brim with milestones that seemed to just fly by.

Flynn's teacher gave each child in her class a personalized plastic bucket containing not only their report card, but a handmade memory book, a jump rope, storybook, 2 pieces of sidewalk chalk (which Flynn is using right this very second), a hand-painted and personalized cross, and a tootsie pop. Evan's beloved teacher, Sr. M.V., wrote him a lovely, heart-touchingly sweet letter. We are blessed to have such wonderful teachers, who not only teach the mind academia, but who teach the heart with their love and appreciation of each child as well.

I know my kids are well prepared for the next school year and are better people to have had such fantastic role models in the classroom.

That being said, my kids (as much as they love school) are ready for days of playing at the pool, going to day camp, day trips, or just hanging out at home.

Here's to summer: Alice Cooper's anthem, "School's Out" as performed with the Muppets.

Great Lake Swimmers

2009-05-19T19:16:00.002-05:00

In need of some music to soothe your weary soul? Look no further than Great Lake Swimmers' latest gem, their fourth, Lost Channels. Sweet, dreamy folk enhanced by lead singer Tony Dekker, who possesses a voice that summons ghosts from times past. It’s a voice that is capable of conveying heartache and comfort all in the space of a single phrase. Lost Channels has become my go-to music when I need to relax (followed closely by Steve Earls' Townes, Andrew Bird's Noble Beast, and Ben Kweller's Changing Horses).

From the Great Lake Swimmers' website: That the album was created in both rural splendour and urban Ontario makes perfect sense for a band that has always navigated the parallels between natural and urban rhythms. River imagery recurs throughout LOST CHANNELS; the title of the album is a reference to a certain passage of the St. Lawrence, close to the recording locale, where a reconnaissance boat from a British warship went mysteriously missing in 1760. There’s no specific reference to the incident in the lyrics, though there are plenty of night skies, howling winds and raging rivers in almost every song which captures an elusive sense of mystery. As the album closes, Dekker sings the final lyrics—“Like the unstoppable river… Your beauty is gentle/ but forceful, and fast”—before the band ends on a suspended note. There is no resolution there, only eternity, a continuum, an endless river.

I've only recently been introduced to Great Lake Swimmers and I will certainly be purchasing their back catalog. Tony Dekker's superior musicianship, fine song craft and haunting melodies have grabbed a hold of me, wormed their way into my heart, and have a rather nice habit of following me around.

Please enjoy "She Comes To Me In Dreams" from Lost Channels.

Ladies First

2009-05-14T08:56:00.003-05:00

Lately, the kiddos and I have been reading selections from Free To Be You And Me. The original version, a LP record with illustrated storybook and a TV movie (which I never saw), was released in 1974. I was 5. I still have my record. It was one of my very favorites, next to the story version of "Lambert The Sheepish Lion" (though the wolf in that story scared the bejeebus out of me).

I love Marlo Thomas' reading of this Shel Silverstein short, "Ladies First." This animated version's pretty cute, too, but nothing compares to the audio version, it was my all-time favorite track (second favorite was Alan Alda & Marlo Thomas' rendition of "Atalanta").

I'm pleased that "Ladies First" is Flynn's favorite. If you can, get your hands on a print copy; it's worth it just for Silverstein's drawings (the last one never fails to make us laugh). Evan's comment on the main character of the story: "That girl is a jerk." She's supposed to be and she gets what's coming to her in the end.

Yes, the animation is very dated. But it's still fun. Evan and I spent quite a bit of time on YouTube last night watching segments like Rosey Grier's "It's Alright To Cry". And while the show is visually dated, the message in each segment is not: it's OK to be different.

If you are a child of the '70's this will bring back memories. If not, enjoy it anyway.

The Mighty Fly

2009-05-13T08:42:00.005-05:00

We're big fans of Nickelodeon's "The Mighty B!" cartoon. The main character, Bessie Higgenbottom (voiced by the adorable and completely manic Amy Poehler), is a Honeybee scout determined to collect every single badge in Honeybee history. Honeybee folklore implies that in doing so, she’ll become a superhero called the Mighty B. Bessie often enlists the help of her dog Happy, her brother Ben, and her best friend Penny.

Flynn recently discovered that "if you take the two n's off my name, it spells fly." I guess that's her new nickname at school, though the boy who's asked her to marry him has started calling her Flynnise (rhymes with Denise).

And Monday while I was watching her swimming lesson, I realized that with her goggles on (which are a little big for her but she insists on wearing them) she looks an awful lot like Bessie.

A Week's Worth Of Years

2009-05-11T07:55:00.004-05:00

Seven years have passed since my dad was stolen from me.

And, yes, I do mean stolen. He did not, to paraphrase Dylan Thomas, go gently into the good night. His life was taken. And certainly not gently.

Yes, that initial raw-nerve pain is still there. Most likely, it will be there for the rest of my life. And, yeah, it hurts like a mother. Sometimes it knocks the wind out of me, it's so strong. It's something I've, unwillingly, become accustomed to. Some days, it's not in the forefront of my mind. It's always there, though. Lurking. Coloring every happy moment. Tainting.

There are days like today when I look at my children and I would give almost anything to have my dad here so he could enjoy them as much as Frank and I do. He loved being a grandpa. He knew two of his grandchildren, my son and my sister's first born, for only a brief time, but anytime he saw them his face would light up and he would just marvel at their simply being there. He always had a present of some sort for them. He gave Evan Christmas presents before he was even born (to Evan these are now priceless treasures). This picture is my favorite of them together. They have the same ears. And at the time, practically the same hairstyle.

I miss his physical presence in my life so terribly. I miss his contagious giggle, his wit and wicked sense of humor (as children my sister and I would beg him to tell us jokes), his razor-sharp intelligence, his hugs (he hugged you like it would be the last time; like he was trying to concentrate all of his love for you into this one hug), his smell (a singular mixture of cherry pipe tobacco, Listerine, fresh air, dirt, vet hospital and musty basement), the way his eyes changed color from blue to grey. I miss talking with him. We shared a love of Thoreau, Emerson and Twain; British comedy (his absolute favorite was a show called 'Allo, 'Allo); Get Smart; the Marx brothers; music; food; playing 20 Questions. He could stand on his head longer than anyone I've ever known.

So I have a cry (like I'm doing right this very second).

I listen to the Beach Boys (his favorite band, other than the Kingston Trio). Pet Sounds is playing in the background.

Last night I had a slice of key lime pie from Perkins (certainly not as good as his, but it'd do in a pinch).

I may watch an episode of 'Allo, 'Allo.

I will remember.

Love you, Dad.

Miss you.

Has It Really Been A Week?

2009-05-08T16:05:00.003-05:00

It doesn't seem like a week ago I was reuniting with college friends. The days have flown by, chained together with the mundane tasks of workaday grown-up life: minding the children, tidying the house, laundry, paying various and sundry bills, whatever volunteer work needing to be done at school, I taught the 7th & 8th graders for a day this week.

And in many ways my silence here has been my way of savoring those brief hours with far-flung friends. Friday night we regrouped at one of the two hotels in Charleston and poured over old photos, talking about old times and catching up, laughing a lot. Figuring we'd be a might bit too noisy for other hotel patrons we adjourned to a local establishment for dinner and beverages. We traipsed up and down 4th street from Roc's to Friend's and back again, once we found out that Friend's (our no. 2 hang-out back in the day) was due to undergo renovations and the patrons (and bathrooms) were a little frightening. We did mosey back to the old part of the bar, where we used to hang, and took some pictures. The place looked, and bizarrely smelled, exactly the same. Friend's has an adjoining space with a stage where local bands, that some of our friends were in, used to play. The graffiti on the wall from those days is still intact and brought back tons of occasionally hazy memories.

My friends and I learned a valuable lesson that night: we are no longer 20 and really can't stay up until 3 a.m. and not pay a hefty price the next day. I was hung over for the first time in my life. Yep. I never had a hang over in college. Never. And, boy, could I drink, drink, drink back then. But I powered through the day, happy to suffer through a little dehydration, headache and some vomiting in order to spend time with some of my very favorite people in the world.

The people I came to know in my years at EIU are some of the most talented, creative, smart, funny, caring, and amazing individuals I know. I'm so thankful to be able to call them my friends. My life is blessed.

So it's taken me about a week to come down off that high.

But at least we're connected through Facebook and are already making plans for October.

The Momcation, Part 2

2009-05-01T15:55:00.003-05:00

Last October I ran away for the weekend with some of my college buddies to see the very last play directed at EIU by our teacher, director and mentor Clarence Blanchette.

The play was nothing to write about, but the five of us had a blast and agreed it certainly didn't last long enough.

So.

This weekend Charleston is hosting Celebration: A Festival of The Arts and we decided it was as good enough an occasion to get together as any. And thanks to the modern miracle of Facebook, we've more than doubled our ranks. (We're also celebrating a birthday, a doctorate, and the retirement of our beloved acting teacher, Dr. Jerry Eisenhour).

I'm taking off in a little over an hour or whenever my friends arrive - I'm hitching a ride down with the folks from Chicago. Frank will join me tomorrow after dropping off the kids at my sister's house.

I can't tell you how excited I am to see friends I haven't seen in person in seven months, and some in over 15 years.

My bag is packed and waiting by the door.

Later, taters.

So Cool I Couldn't Keep It To Myself

2009-04-30T15:15:00.004-05:00

This morning Frank told me about the episode of Mythbusters he watched last night. Apparently, it involved a million Legos:

The ball fell apart into, literally, a million pieces.

OK, so that's cool in and of itself (we are, of course, a Lego-centric household). But what grabbed my attention was that the Mythbusters team borrowed the million Legos from Nathan Sawaya, a NYC-based artist whose medium is, you guessed it, Legos.

This is some of his amazing work:

Pretty damn cool, no?

This Ain't St. Elsewhere

2009-04-29T19:00:00.005-05:00

A week or two ago, I downloaded The Empire Of The Sun's debut compilation, Walking On A Dream. It was one of those $1.99 daily deals on Amazon. I've been grooving to it off and on since. The first single, the title track, sounds like David Gruesin's theme for St. Elsewhere, the awesome Dr. drama from the 80's (which I loved), or Vangelis's Chariots of Fire - lots and lots of synth. Very, very 80's with a modern twist in the vocals (some critics compare them to MGMT but I find them softer and not as nihilistic as MGMT).

Empire Of The Sun hail from Australia and, to me, they look like Kajagoogoo rejects or David Bowie's Goblin King in Labyrinth. And even though they don't have the vocal power behind their lyrics, I can't help but mentally compare them to fellow Ozzies, Air Supply. Maybe it's just because EOTS sound like they just stepped out of 1983.

But I dig most of the songs on their album, especially this one. They're pretty dancey.

Enjoy.

Of Cults and First Communions

2009-04-28T07:55:00.006-05:00

Because my kids attend a Catholic school, special Church occasions like receiving certain sacraments (Reconciliation, Holy Communion and Confirmation) are built into the school calendar. My son's first communion was one such occasion. For those of you non-Catholics out there we take communion every time we can get it (some people attend daily Mass, others like my family and I attend Sunday service). And Church doctrine states that the priest actually transforms the host and wine into the Body and Blood of Jesus. So receiving the sacrament of communion for the first time is kind of a big deal. The boys get dressed up and the girls, well, they look like little brides dressed all in white, veils and all.

Evan's first communion was last Saturday.

And my mother blew it off for a singing competition.

A few months ago my mom asked me when Evan's first communion would be held. I told her it had been on the school calendar since August and was scheduled for Saturday, April 25th.

"Oh, well, I won't be there. That's Sweet Adelines competition," she said.

What?

At the time I was too gobsmacked to say anything. I figured she'd see how ludicrous she was being to ditch her only grandson's big day for her singing group's competition.

Nope.

My mother's been singing with the cult of Sweet Adelines for about a decade or so. At first my sister and I thought it was great: it gave her a hobby, kept her off the streets. Her favorite aunt, Dottie, was a director for an internationally-known Sweet Adelines group and I think this is where my mom got the idea. Music has always been part of her life and I'm happy that she found an outlet for her creativity.

But now it's a bit too much. Sweet Adelines has slowly, but surely taken over her life and totally brainwashed her. I don't know, maybe she's been hypnotized by glare coming off all the sequins on their spangly costumes. I mean, really, choosing the choir over family just pisses me off. And I even tried to enlist the aid of one of my mom's friends, a teacher at my children's school and fellow Sweet Adeliner. "Mrs. W, I need your help. Could you tell my mom that first communion is more important than competition?" I asked her at lunch one day. Wanna know what she told me? "Take pictures." Yeah, this from a Catholic school teacher! See? Cult.

And Evan was let down that one of his grandmothers wasn't there. "Doesn't she know that family's more important than things?" he asked me in the car on the way home from school one day. I told him I agreed wholeheartedly with him and that he should take it up with his grandmother.

But even though Evan was disappointed in his Nana, he was happy the rest of our family was there for him: my mother-in-law, sister-in-law and her family drove down from Chicago and Frank's cousin and her family were in town for the Science Olympiad state finals and were represented by their oldest daughter (their son was competing), my sister and her family were there as well as my step-brother and his family (including my new niece, 4-week-old Nicole).

Evan looked rather dashing in his suit and signature red bow-tie. My mother-in-law does not throw things away. Case in point: she still had the suit Frank wore for his first communion. Evan wore it, too. He looked straight outta '78 in his 3-piece Pierre Cardin blue polyester suit. The pants were a little too flared for my personal taste, but Evan was happy. "Three-piece suits aren't in vogue anymore?" Frank asked.

Uh, no. I tried to get Evan to pose like John Travolta in Saturday Night Fever, but he wouldn't.

My son's first communion went very well, though he said afterwards, "The communion wine tastes horrible!" (and he was very relieved to hear that he does not have to drink it every Sunday).

So we're good until the next big deal: Flynn's first communion in two years. And you know she'll be all kinds of decked out.

I'm hoping there won't be a Sweet Adelines competition scheduled for that weekend as well.

Perfect for Decompressing

2009-04-21T18:37:00.003-05:00

My favorite disc to chill out to lately is Andrew Bird's Noble Beast. This song, "Oh No", is the first track and sets the mellow, yet incredibly musical vibe for the thirteen songs to follow. Bird plays a variety of instruments on this compilation including the a masterful guitar and violin.

He's also an expert whistler.

Kick back, relax and enjoy this live version, the best of the lot to choose from on YouTube.

Owly, The Cutest Owl In The World

2009-04-17T08:02:00.002-05:00

I know it's super-duper gorgeous outside today, but take a moment and read my review of Andy Runton's Owly comic over at The Full Mommy, OK? OK.

Because The Sun Is Shining

2009-04-16T15:34:00.002-05:00

A little fun Fred Schneider for a sunny Spring day. I love this song, "Monster", from Fred's solo album Fred Schneider and the Shake Society. Kate Pierson, also of The B-52's, sings on four of the album's tracks (including this one). That's her in the video, too, and Tina Weymouth of The Talking Heads makes an appearance as well.

This song hearkens back to my college days and maybe I'm a little nostalgic lately because I'm in the midst of compiling mix discs for a reunion coming up in a couple of weeks.

So. much. fun.

Get up and dance.

If this fails to make you shake your booty, notify your next of kin because I'm afraid you are dead.

Q: Wanna Know What's Torture?

2009-04-13T09:27:00.003-05:00

A: Going to Chicago's Brookfield Zoo on a glorious, sunny Saturday afternoon and leaving the camera at home.

Yep, we traveled north to my mother-in-law's home Friday evening and as we merged onto I-57 I remembered the camera. Everything else was packed: Easter goodies for the kinder (my 2 plus 2 nieces and 2 cousins), clothes (except I forgot dress socks for Evan), birthday gifts for my sister-in-law, and the assorted flotsam and jetsam that comes along for the ride (Evan and Flynn's blankies, stuffed animals, pillows, etc.). Everything except the camera, the one item I almost always bring.

Bugger.

So instead of viewing what were sure to be awesome photos, you'll have to use your imaginations.

And of course the polar bears were surprisingly active, as were the gorilla babies (chasing each other all over their environment, one running back to its mother when the play got a little too rough - my mother-in-law and I could've watched them all day), a tiny cotton-top tamarin was not six feet from me, just hanging out on a branch over the path through the primate exhibit. He was so cool, chirping away at his admirers. A grizzly bear was curled up asleep next to the window looking into his open-air enclosure. He was hugging a traffic cone.

I tried not to agonize over the missed photo opportunities.

We also walked through the new dinosaur exhibit, Dinos Alive!. It had just opened last weekend and displayed 18 animatronic dinos ranging in size from a massive Ruyang Yellow River dino to the smallish Baryonyx. My little boy was in dinosaur heaven. Flynn, not so much, but afterwards proclaimed to have enjoyed it. Evan was disappointed there was no Velociraptor, but quickly got over it and LOVED walking down the path through the robot dino habitats, four of which zoogoers were allowed to manipulate from interactive remote-control panels. I wish I had a picture of Evan working the Allosaurus controls. Or one of the look on his face as he triggered the motion sensor on the Baryonyx. He must have jumped a foot into the air as the puppet moved and growled.

Gah.

I think I need to leave a camera in the car at all times.

Film Review: The Tale of Despereaux

2009-04-07T15:01:00.002-05:00

Find out what I thought of the DVD version of The Tale of Despereaux here.

Maybe Just One More

2009-04-06T17:02:00.003-05:00

I was with the 4th graders again today and will be with them tomorrow as well. Generally, I enjoy my days with them; they're smart and funny, though at times I could staple their butts to their chairs and put tape over their mouths.

Today during reading class we were discussing "judgments" and "decisions." In their text book was this still from Charlie Chaplin's classic 1939 film Modern Times:
We were discussing man's role with machinery/technology and I told them a little about 1930's American life. Echoing my previous experience, one kid pipes up with "Were you there?"

I was temporarily speechless then 20 other 9-year-olds jumped to my defense. "She's not that old!", "She's young!", "You never ask a woman about her age or her weight. Don't you know anything?" Then they wanted to know what my age is. I told them. I have nothing to hide.

One little boy said, "39? No way. I thought you were 27."

I now want to adopt this precious, precious child.

An Interesting Mental Image To Say The Least

2009-04-05T11:13:00.002-05:00

Yesterday, the family and I bundled into the car and headed out to do some plant shopping. Well, it was more like window shopping since we weren't planning on buying anything; just getting ideas for when we have the time, like in May, when we can put things in the ground.

As we're heading north on Staley Road, we passed a construction site.

Evan pipes up with, "Hey, look! It's a portal potty."

Frank said, "Yeah. It's called the T.U.R.D.I.S."

The Dare

2009-03-31T19:36:00.002-05:00

I overheard this on the way home from school:

Evan: Flynn, I dare you to say weenis.

Flynn: NO! No, Evan, I don't want to say that word.

Evan: I dare you to say it. Say weenis.

Flynn: No. way.

This from the children who never shut up about penis this and penis that. It's penis, penis, penis around here from those two.

But weenis makes me laugh out loud.

"Benign" Is A Beautiful Word

2009-03-30T08:19:00.002-05:00

The beginning of last week was a little fraught with stress, what with my biopsy and all. I tried to push the lurking anxiety out of my brain by keeping the kids busy (playing at the indoor playground, a trip to Bloomington on Friday to the Children's Museum). The end of the week brought me good news: a) the blood work I had done the previous week showed that my thyroid is functioning normally (with the help of my daily dose of thyroid hormone) and b) the biopsy results tell that the nodule is benign and consistent with my current diagnosis of Hashimoto'sThyroiditis.

Whew.

How do I know these things when I'm not even scheduled to see my doctor until tomorrow morning?

The U.S. Postal Service.

Yep, the hospital mailed my test results to me.

When I mentioned this to some friends on Facebook a couple of them took umbrage with the impersonal-ness of the mail. Why couldn't the hospital call me with the results, my friends asked? I'm sure there are people out there who need their doctor to call them and hold their hand. I am not one of those people. And my doctor knows that. He's been my doctor since I was 12 (my pediatrician retired and Dr. D was just starting his practice). Tsk-tsking the medical community is not something I normally do. Doctors and nurses have enough to do, have tons of patients to squeeze into appointment-filled days, that I'd rather they spend the time with their patients that need them than ring me up to tell me everything's OK. Frankly, I'm just happy I got the notice in the mail. I don't care if they call me or not. Actually, I think I'd be more concerned if they did call.

And it unsettled me a little when the day after my biopsy, some very nice lady from the radiology department called me to see if I'd had any side-effects (bleeding, bruising, etc.). I told her that I was fine aside from a little tenderness at the injection site, I was strangely bruise-free (I bruise quite easily so I'm surprised I wasn't sporting a purple contusion the size of a nickle. That tells you how good the doctor was.). After I hung up, I thought, "That was nice that they called. And a little weird." What that says about me, I don't know.

So I'm A-OK.

Happy dance time (a little Fred & Ginger's in order):

Nothing Says Fun Like A Needle In The Neck

2009-03-23T17:02:00.002-05:00

Because I have a thyroid condition (an auto-immune disorder called Hashimoto's Thyroiditis), I see my doctor once a year for a check-up. He palpitates my thyroid, orders up some blood work and I go on my merry way. Last September, Dr. D. wraps his hands around my neck, asks me to swallow some water then says, "Hm, I think I felt something there. I'm going to order an ultrasound just to make sure everything's OK." One sonogram and a couple of days later I'm on the phone with his nurse who told me that there was something on my thyroid, we'll keep an eye on it and do a follow-up in March.

It's March.

Last week I had my follow-up sonogram and the radiologist who read it found a nodule that was large enough to warrant a biopsy. Now, from my independent research (which mainly involved Googling "thyroid nodule") I gleaned that nodules are fairly commonplace and most are not malignant. That did little to calm my nerves and I'm very thankful to my friends who talked me down from a bit of a freak out, because you know the first thing my mind went to after hearing the word biopsy was cancer: "Don't freak out." It doesn't sound like much, but it helped immensely.

Today was my biopsy.

I was scheduled to have it done at 2:30. I walked into the exam room at 3:30. It wasn't so much that I had to wait an hour that kind of ticked me off, but that I a) had the kids with me and b) Frank took off work to watch the kids during my procedure. Luckily, there was a TV on in the waiting room tuned to the Disney Channel and Evan had brought his DS with. But still.

The sonographer took some more grainy pictures of my thyroid and then we waited for the radiologist to come work his needle mojo. Dr. B., was warm, friendly and very thorough. He told me exactly what he was going to do, what it would feel like and what to expect afterward. I like that. I appreciated being treated like an adult with a brain in her head, not some stupid moron who has no clue about anatomy or how a microscope works. So he numbed me up with a local anesthetic, then went deeper with another. That stuff works lightning fast because I couldn't feel anything as he used a fine-needle syringe to cull the cells from my little thyroidal hitchhiker.

A cytologist was also in the room with her microscope and she prepared a slide of my cells making sure Dr. B. got enough. He had to do a second pass to get the correct amount. Then they cleaned me up and sent me out (at this point it was well after 4:00).

So now I just play the waiting game until next week when I meet with my doctor to discuss today's results.

And if you happen to see me out and about over the next few days, I'll most likely have a lovely bruise on my neck. Pretty.

Age Is Relative

2009-03-19T08:32:00.003-05:00

So I spent yesterday teaching 4th grade. I've been with this class several times and have always enjoyed my days with them. They are a good group of 9- and 10-year-olds, if not an excessively chatty and antsy bunch.

During reading class we were grading their workbook page, which had to do with a story they'd read the day before about the famous baseball player, Jackie Robinson.

These kids have no frame of reference for the significance of Jackie Robinson's inclusion in the major leagues (he was the first African American to play major league baseball, playing when Jim Crow laws were still on the books across the country and Civil Rights was roughly 20 years away).

To help them put the story in historical context, I told them about what life was like during the pre-Civil Rights era. What I know is what I've learned from watching documentaries and reading about early-to-mid-20th century American history.

"Mrs. M.," asked one student, "were you around when this happened?"

What?

"Uh, no." I replied. "I'm not that old."

Beautiful Music For A Beautiful Day

2009-03-17T09:54:00.002-05:00

Good God, how I love the totally fabulous Miss Sharon Jones and the Dap Kings! I came across this band on Amazon while I was searching for free music downloads. Their song, "100 Days, 100 Nights", from the album of the same name blew me away and I had to have more, more, more. Theirs is a seamless blend funk, soul, and rhythm and blues.

And if Aretha Franklin is the Queen of Soul, then Sharon Jones is the heir apparent. Her voice. Gah. So. damn. amazing. This is music that touches your soul. Amy Winehouse, Duffy, Adele even, pay attention and listen up.

Sharon Jones and the Dap Kings sound like they just stepped out of the 1960's and their videos tend to reinforce that (love the art direction, the grainy quality to the film and the cross-fades), but make no mistake about it, they are contemporary artists.

So, enjoy their song, "Tell Me". In it I hear echoes of Stevie Wonder's "Uptight (Everything's Alright)", which makes this song just that much better.

Derby Day

2009-03-14T12:08:00.002-05:00

After three weeks of preparation, planning and building the Big Day had arrived: our first Pinewood Derby.

For those of you unfamiliar in the ways of Scouting, the Pinewood Derby allows Boy Scouts (and their siblings) a chance to design and build their very own race car. Out of a block of wood. It's the highlight of the Boy Scout calendar and is kind of a big deal.

In January, Evan was given his kit which contained a small block of Pine wood, 4 wheels, and 4 nails to be used as axles. The cars, when finished, must all be within a specified length and weight limit (a mere 5 ounces).

Of course, Star Wars fan that he is, Evan wanted to build a speeder bike (as seen in Episode VI, Return of The Jedi). So Frank and Evan got down to business. Evan did the majority of the woodwork and the painting (he did get some help from his dad with the tricky bits like the handlebars). I helped with the bedroll on the back (felt & hot glue) and the Imperial Scout Trooper's kerchief (quite possibly the rattiest looking Boy Scout kerchief in existence, but it did the job).

Evan chose not to race his car, but wanted only to enter it in the design competition. He received a certificate for 1st place in Best Detailing.

Personally, I think he deserved to win a trophy for Originality (and I'm not just saying that because I'm his mom and I know how very hard he worked on his car). I don't know how the judges scored the entries or if they even bothered with the cars that didn't race (Evan's and one other one that looked like a Mario Kart, complete with Mario which looked awesome).

Maybe the judges didn't believe Evan did the work himself? I dunno. What I do know is that he's rather disappointed that he didn't get a trophy and two of his friends did. But he'll get over it.

He's already planning for next year's car.

Ch-ch-ch-check It Out

2009-03-13T13:08:00.001-05:00

My first post for The Full Mommy, reviewing the "Easy Times" CD.

Pretty darn cool, if I may say so myself.

Mushrooms!

2009-03-11T19:00:00.002-05:00

About a month ago, Sarah over at Color Kitten documented, in a series of posts, her experience of growing mushrooms indoors. From a kit she bought online. I thought this was a super-cool idea and that the kids would get a kick out of this. Once again, she inspired me and I followed her lead and ordered my own little kit from Fungi Perfecti.

The kids were enthralled with the idea of growing mushrooms we could harvest and eat within a couple of weeks. Well, Evan thought it would be cool to eat the mushrooms. Flynn, not so much.

Not long after I place my order, my Enokitake colony arrived snugly wrapped in plastic and nestled in its own blend of sterilized, enriched sawdust. We followed the directions and within a week we had these baby mushrooms:

"Oh, Mommy! They're sooooo cute!" said Flynn.

These mushrooms grow best in cold temperatures and I didn't have room in my fridge, as recommended in the growing directions, so I left them in my garage and misted them with water two times a day.

This is what they looked like today, a week later, just before we harvested them:You can see little baby ones at the base.

I've never cooked Enokitake mushrooms before and next time I think I'll leave them raw (the way Evan prefers them) and add them as a garnish to a miso soup. Tonight I just sauteed them in a little butter, olive oil and garlic. They tasted fine, but think they'd fare better with gentler treatment.

And, to my amazement, Flynn actually ate one, teeny, tiny mushroom. After she'd chewed and swallowed, she said she'd rather just hold the mushroom.

Evan wants to try a different type of mushroom next time.

Maybe the Shiitake...mmmmm.

Because I Need A Laugh

2009-03-06T16:11:00.002-06:00

Frank took the day off today so we could see the new, long awaited movie, The Watchmen. We went out for breakfast then took in the 10:30 show.

It's been a long time since I've read the Alan Moore-Dave Gibbons landmark graphic novel and I think the film is faithful to its origins (the comic's better) but some of the performances were a little flat and that may have been due to the script, which I thought was pretty lackluster. The best performance of the bunch was that of Jackie Earl Haley as Rorschach. Excellent. Some of the dialogue was a little stilted and not very genuine (it reads better on paper - some of the lines were lifted directly from the comic). It's very, very dark, gritty, grimy, and bloody. It was a little much for me, but Frank really liked it.

"That was the comic book movie equivalent of The Lord of The Rings," said Frank commenting on the movie's length.

After nearly 3 hours of superhero gore I need something funny.

So in homage to LOTR, I give you Flight of The Conchords' "Frodo, Don't Wear The Ring". Which is even funnier because Bret McKenzie (one of the Conchords) played an elf in LOTR, The Fellowship of The Ring and The Return of The King.

Back Among The Living

2009-03-05T14:58:00.002-06:00

After being pretty much bed-ridden for the past two days, I can safely say it's good to be up and around again. Man, that cold was/is wicked bad and knocked me on my ass, messed with my sleep and generally made my life miserable.

Today, I feel much better. My energy has returned, if not to my regular level then it's nearly there. I can breathe (with the help of Mucinex D) and I slept much better last night than the previous two.

And while I felt close to my regular self, I didn't overdo it: no gym, no vigorous housework. All I did was clean up my vapor trail of dirty Kleenex in my bedroom and the family room and allow myself to become engrossed in an America's Next Top Model marathon on Bravo.

We can resume our regular schedule of after-school activities, from which we've been absent for the past week and a half.

Tomorrow is a franknmisc day: Frank's taking the day off work and we're going to see the new Watchmen movie and hang out together while the kids are at school.

I'm happy to be back, but I'm wondering when Evan will come down with the ick.

Hopefully, not tomorrow. Or ever.

I Feel Like Death Warmed Over But She Looks Good

2009-03-03T15:51:00.002-06:00

It's official: I have the ick. I believe I have what Frank had - serious congestion, general malaise, and overall cruddiness. Last night I had my pj's on and was in bed well before 8 o'clock. I did not rest easy last night, between fits of hot and cold and an inability to breathe through my nose. Bleah.

This morning, I got up at my normal time, showered, got dressed, fixed the kids' lunches.

"How do you feel today?" inquired my loving husband.

"Like crap."

"Do you have anything you need to do today?"

Not really, only try to power through a strength training workout, drop off the dry cleaning, run by the post office, clean up around the house, I thought. "No, nothing much."

"Good. You should take it easy today. Go rest. I'll bring dinner home tonight."

He knows me well enough to realize that I needed to hear, "It's OK to take care of yourself. Go do it." I'm used to running on all cylinders, illness be damned. Moms have to keep working even when we feel like hell.

But I heeded Frank's advice. After he piled the kids into the car and they headed off to school and work, I sipped a couple cups of tea, ate some breakfast and then headed back upstairs to camp out in my bedroom until it was time to retrieve Evan and Flynn from school.

A couple of weeks ago, Frank was told to take Mucinex D for his congestion. He had some left over so I choked down a pill the size of a small submarine that tasted like how a vet office smells (that sharp, unmistakable odor from my childhood: part medicine, part disinfectant, part animal).

That stuff works. I have been able to breathe without looking like a neanderthal all day.

And while I did not sleep (I'm not a napper by nature, just ask my mom), I did finish one book and nearly another. I rested.

********

Flynn's new boots arrived today! She could hardly wait to put them on (they look great with her school uniform, but she wanted to change into play clothes before I took a picture).
Snazzy, no? She especially loves that they have a bit of a heel on them and the silver bit on the toe. Luckily, they fit just right.
She loves them so much, it might be difficult to get her to take them off tonight. She may just sleep with her new boots on.

Which is just fine with me as I plan on going to bed early.

Like now. I have stuff to do tomorrow...

The Kid's Back In Business

2009-03-02T15:23:00.004-06:00

Saturday saw Flynn's fever back down to 101 and her energy level, when she was on Motrin, was fine. She played Little Pets vs. Star Wars with her brother, they built a super fort, and got on each other's nerves like siblings do, regardless of health.

Sunday Frank took Evan to early mass and then out to breakfast. They also had a mission to accomplish: acquire the tools necessary for building a Pinewood Derby race car. They'd spent the bulk of Saturday afternoon designing said race car and wanted to get building. They have a week or two to finish.

Flynn slept pretty well and woke in a good mood. I took her temperature and it was back to normal. Yay! (Except for the croupy cough that goes along with the virus, but I'm hoping that makes its exit soon.)

Showered and dressed, we had breakfast then went to the grocery store as we were in desperate need of cereal, milk, lunch meat, and fruit.

Flynn's energy level is back to pre-illness levels; she's back to spinning like a top. She's happy she returned to school today and got to see her friends and her teacher. But we're taking it easy this afternoon and playing hooky from swim lessons.

And now I'm all congested and I can feel my energy waning.

I'm going to go eat some oranges now and pray I don't come down with the crud. I have lunch plans later on in the week with a friend I haven't seen in a long time and I really don't want to cancel.

But I'm glad Flynn's back in (relatively) good health.

Adventures in Modern Medicine

2009-02-27T11:17:00.002-06:00

Flynn's temperature has been steadily creeping up since Wednesday night; 100 degrees, then 101, then topping out at 103 this morning.

She slept fitfully again last night, tossing and turning and she'd developed this raspy breathing that reminded me of her bout with pneumonia last year. So I thought to err on the side of caution today and take her to see the doctor.

This morning after getting Evan and Frank out the door, I showered and took Flynn to Convenient Care. The nurse's aid took Flynn's vitals and since her throat has been hurting and strep is cutting a wide swath through the kindergarten classes, we decided to have a rapid strep test done. Flynn opened her mouth wide, the aid jammed the long swab into her little throat and Flynn promptly barfed all over herself, the aid, and the examining room.

The strep test came back negative.

But Flynn had to wait out the rest of our time there wrapped in adult-sized hospital gowns, stripped of her vomit-soaked jammies & shoes.

The nurse practitioner gave Flynn the once over and then ordered up some blood & urine work (Flynn had just used the bathroom so we brought home the cup for her to pee in. I'll be dropping that off at the lab later on this afternoon). She also gave Flynn a dose of Tylenol to help get the fever under control. Her initial diagnosis? A virus. But we'll see what the lab says.

Speaking of lab work, Flynn was amazing as the phlebotomist drew her blood. Ever the cool customer, my little girl watched rapt with curiosity as the needle punctured her skin and the blood worked its way into the test tubes. No flinching, no tears, no nothing. "She's going to be a doctor when she grows up," said the phlebotomist as he covered the teeny puncture wound with a band-aid. "Animal doctor," Flynn corrected.

I carried her out to the car, hospital gown flapping in the wind ("This is embarrassing," she said) and we drove home. We weren't even out of the parking lot when I glanced in the rear-view mirror to check on Flynn and noticed she was asleep. We live at most 5 minutes from the doctor's office.

At home she woke up and immediately wanted to take a bath. She did then told me she needed "a tray with lots of food on it for me to eat." We loaded up on blueberries, vanilla yogurt, and a Lunchable.

She's now eating from her tray full of food, coloring, and watching WALL-E. And I'm keeping my fingers crossed that she does, indeed, have only a virus and not something worse requiring antibiotics.

She's Not Too Sick To Shop

2009-02-26T16:36:00.006-06:00

My daughter has inherited my love of shoes and is known in several circles as "the girl with the pink cowboy boots." For years she's had a pair of either hot pink or metallic pink boots. They remain her very favorite pair of shoes, just edging out the black patent leather "party shoes" (ie, mary janes) with the "high" (1") heel. Had I known how much she'd love those boots I would've bought a pair in every size Target stocked. Ah, hindsight.

Today she is ill, home with a fever hovering between 100 and 101 degrees. She is tired and emotionally fragile. But all that falls by the wayside when I mention the words "new shoes."

It has come to my attention that her current pair of beloved boots will soon be too small for her and as she's told me, she "doesn't like pink anymore."

You read right, my girly-girly girl who used to wear a frothy pink princess nightgown pretty much every day to preschool (when she was 2) no longer cares for pink (or princesses, though Ariel's still OK because she's a mermaid). Nope, red is now the color of choice (I think I see her brother's influence here as red is his very favorite color).

So.

The search for a pair of red boots was on. It was a quick search resulting in Flynn falling in love with these:
I like them, too. But I'm having a difficult time reconciling the fact that Flynn doesn't dig pink anymore. Now I know how my dad must've felt.

When I was a young girl, my all-time favorite color was Donny Osmond purple. I. loved. purple. And my dad, wanting to make me happy, bought me all kinds of purple crap for birthdays and Christmases: a purple bank that looked like a safe, a purple windbreaker, purple Mrs. Grossman stickers, purple this, purple that. He associated me with that particular color.

Then one day, I stopped liking purple and started liking black. And threw my dad for a loop. He could no longer form the equation, purple x + Misc = happiness. Instead, he made more personal gestures that meant more to me than anything purple or black could (a framed newspaper from the day after President Kennedy's assassination that he'd saved for me, books by Twain and Thoreau, his favorite authors, photography books, music, a Japanese paper cut-out of a cat - items I still have to this day, things I cherish).

I know these red boots are just footwear that happen to be in a color Flynn now likes, but on some deeper level, these boots signal her growth. She's letting go of the things she loved as a toddler and preschooler, like the color pink and princesses, and moving on to other Big Girl things, like red cowboy boots and American Girl dolls.

And I'm cool with that. It's exciting.

My daughter and I will both be waiting for the UPS man to bring those red boots. I can hardly wait to see them on her feet.

I just hope they fit.

Almost Made It

2009-02-26T08:28:00.002-06:00

Those of you who've been with me since last year know of the ugliness February 2008 wreaked on my family: wicked bad flu (stomach and otherwise) for all four of us, pneumonia for Flynn, whatever other viruses that made the rounds.

It was bad, bad, bad.

This year, though, has been relatively quiet. Frank had a sore throat last week and Evan had a cold, but nothing serious necessitating staying home from school or anything.

Until last night.

The afternoon went swimmingly, pun intended, as the kids dove into their respective lessons at the Y. We came home, they bathed, I made dinner, we ate. You know, the same-old, same-old routine. Then Flynn said, "I'm cold. Mommy, can you make me some warm soup?" She'd eaten most of her dinner, so I did (I tell you I love the Campbell's Soup at Hand). She took her little cup of soup, curled up in the chair in the family room, pulled up a blanket and rested. This is out of the ordinary because she's normally very full of energy; her favorite after-dinner activity being spinning around and around. Huh, I thought, that's strange.

While Evan was working on his math homework, she sat quietly in the chair. Or so I thought but when I looked up from helping Evan and cleaning up after dinner I didn't see her in the chair. I went upstairs and found her curled up in my bed, almost asleep.

Uh-oh.

I took her temperature and, sure enough, she was running a fever of a little over 100 degrees. A dose of Motrin and a good-night book and kiss sent her off to dreamland. She slept fitfully, first in her own bed, then she came and got me sometime in the night (I didn't look at the clock) and wanted me to be with her in the guest room bed. Therefore I also had an uneasy night's rest that I attribute to being repeatedly kicked in the back by size-9.5 little girl feet.

At least she's not vomiting and she has an appetite, though her fever is higher this morning than it was last night.

Presently, she's holed up in the comfy chair in the family room eating her breakfast of oatmeal with honey and cinnamon, some blueberries, and chamomile tea. And she's watching Horton Hears a Who.

I hope this is the worst of it and not a portent of things to come.

Very Interesting...

2009-02-19T17:57:00.002-06:00

Here's a run down of what gems I've heard issuing forth from my children within the hour:

1. Evan, as he's stepping into the bathtub: I am Aquaman! Behold my mighty water balls of justice!

(I think some body's watched one too many episodes of Batman: The Brave and The Bold.)

2. Evan: I smell like handsome.

3. Flynn, ever the fashionista (disappointed): I wish I had a light saber that matched this outfit.

4. Flynn, after talking about a friend that has 3 siblings (demanding): I want a baby!

(Sorry, sister, that ship has sailed.)

5. Evan, after Flynn said she wanted a baby (disgusted): Well, I still want a big brother, but that's not happening so get used to disappointment, Flynn.

They are currently cuddled up together in a chair, reading an Owly comic.

Love them.

A Girl With A Plan

2009-02-10T21:54:00.002-06:00

It probably comes as no surprise to any of you who know me outside of the blogosphere (sheesh, I dislike that word), that I am a list maker. Making a list and crossing off the items gives me a sense of accomplishment and satisfaction. It also keeps me from forgetting what I need to do (which is easier and easier to do as I age, but I'm just as happy to blame it on "mommy brain"). Lists keep me organized and on top of not only my life but those that encompass my own: Frank's, Evan's, and Flynn's. I am also a teacher; it's just something we do. The front seat of my car is awash in sticky-notes, a testament to my list-making.

The apple does not fall far from the tree.

As she was getting ready for bed tonight, Flynn gave me a detailed, itemized list of what she has planned for her day tomorrow. She asked me to write it down.

So I did.

And I'm sharing it here.

Flynn's To Do List:
1. Get up out of bed.
2. Get dressed in my school clothes.
3. Brush my teeth.
4. Eat breakfast.
5. Go to school.
6. Come home from school. (I'm assuming after a full school day)
7. Get into some play clothes.
8. Practice some karate. (She hasn't taken lessons since early Fall last year, so I don't know what she will practice)
9. Do some Lego with Evan.
10. Put on some make-up.
11. Have dinner. (I think what she actually means is "sit at the table and complain about the yucky food that is on my plate")
12. Do yoga.
13. Take a bath.
14. Put on my pajamas.
15. Read.
16. Go to sleep.

With the exception of practicing karate and doing yoga (which she does with me on occasion), this is pretty much what she does every day.

Yes, including the make-up.

She was pretty satisfied with her own self after she relayed all her plans to me.

She wants me to print out her list so she can "check off everything on it."

Of course, my little apple, you want a list? You got it.

Gettin' Schooled

2009-02-08T10:43:00.003-06:00

My children, ever a source of education, taught me a variety of things this past week. Things I didn't necessarily want to know, like this little nugget from Evan:

"Mom. My friend, so-and-so, told me there's a website called doubleyou doubleyou doubleyou dot naked women dot com. There's pictures of naked women on it."

Great.

Now my EIGHT YEAR OLD son has friends that know about Internet porn and are sharing that knowledge with him. I have no idea how Evan's friend knows such things. He's a good kid, but from now on in my head I'll forever be calling him The Pornographer.

I told Evan that's a website only for grown-ups.

And I learned that Evan knows a euphemism for testicles.

"Mom. My friend and I made up this game that you do this, [he executed some fancy karate-type moves, ending up on his knees] and then punch the other guy in the nuts, but not really because that would hurt."

Awesome.

This friend, not The Pornographer but also a good kid, will now be known as The Instigator.

And to top off my education, I learned I should probably watch my language whilst round the kiddies.

Flynn has a set of sight word flash cards that we go through each night. Last night, she was whipping through those words, some she hadn't been able to read earlier in the week, when we came to the word do. "Dih... dih...," she started, "dih... damn! Damn! Damn! Is it damn, Mommy?"

I had to bite the inside of my cheeks so hard to keep myself from laughing. "No, sweetie, it's do."

"Oh, yeah, do. That's right."

Contemplation

2009-02-07T13:22:00.002-06:00

"You might want to check into your teaching license. You know, get it renewed or whatever," Frank said to me the other night.

The company he works for is in the process of laying off a significant percentage of its workforce. Fortunately, there have been no firings at Frank's studio. Yet. But who knows?

I have not worked as a full-time teacher since Evan was three months old. For a year after Evan's birth, and after I had left full-time service, I worked part-time as a go-between teacher for home bound students (those with broken bones, were pregnant and unable to attend class, etc.) and the school where I had taught.

Since then I've been mommying it up; home with my two kinder, organizing playdates, being a hausfrau, you know the drill.

Substitute teaching this school year has been a way for me to test the waters of gainful employment. I still enjoy being with the young folk, talking about writing and language and literature.

I had let my teaching certificate's validity lapse and expire so when Frank requested I look into renewing my cert., I thought for certain I would be looking at some sort of university coursework. After e-mailing the regional board of education I started wondering, "If I have to take some courses, I might as well look into the middle school endorsement and/or maybe the reading specialist endorsement." When I mentioned to my sister, a kindergarten teacher, that I was looking into this she said, "Why would you want to teach middle school?" It's not so much that I have a burning desire to work with 11-13-year-olds, but it makes me more marketable as a teacher to have that endorsement (or endorsements). It's not so much want to as have to.

The reply from the ROE (Regional Office of Education) was simple and straight forward, since my certificate had expired in '06 and I had not been teaching since then, all I needed to do was pay the renewal fee ($26) and I was good to go - no coursework, no professional development, no nothing.

Whew.

So now I am fully licensed to teach again.

And contemplating the future of my education.

You Will Laugh So Hard

2009-02-06T19:02:00.002-06:00

Thank you, Stacy, for posting this on Facebook today, which I watched while my niece Emmy was napping and nearly woke her up, I was laughing so hard (I was babysitting Emmy today while her regular sitter was out of town).

Seriously, Flight of The Conchords is one of the funniest shows I've seen in a long time. Frank and I are working our way through season 1 on DVD (we don't have HBO). And this video for "Sugalumps" shows that season 2 has not let up on the funny.

The Little Dictator

2009-02-04T13:28:00.002-06:00

Yesterday on the way to school, Evan overheard a blurb on NPR about "monarchs and dictators".

"Mom, what's a dictator?" he asked.

I proceeded to explain to him the difference between a monarch and a dictator.

"Oh, OK." came his reply, then silence.

That night between bites of dinner, Evan exclaimed, "I am the dictator of this house!"

Flynn replied with the following zinger, "You can be dictator when nobody is here."

To Quote The Fairport Convention, "Who knows where the time goes?"

2009-01-31T09:27:00.002-06:00

In the span of eight short years he's gone from this:
To this:Frankly, I look at these pictures with disbelief and awe.

How did he get to be so big? He was so tiny, weighing a mere 6 pounds, 4 ounces at his birth, to this beanpole boy who will be taller than his mother by the time he's 10.

Right now he's pouring over his birthday loot, putting together Lego sets and making plans for the Pokemon figures, Playmobil pirates and dinosaurs. And if he had his way, he'd be zooming around the house in his new roller skates.

My first born, my little baby boy, is eight years old today.

Happy Birthday, Evan!

This Time 8 Years Ago

2009-01-30T19:36:00.002-06:00

I was sitting on a hospital bed waiting. Three hours previously, I had been waiting in my OB's examination room. I'd been confined to bed the week before due to high blood pressure. Medication had failed to bring it down so I'd had to go on maternity leave two weeks early, leaving my students with an incredibly idiotic sub (I wouldn't know how stupid this man was until I returned 3 months later to finish out the school year), and succumbed to doctor's orders to lie on my left side. All the time.

I am a naturally fidgety person. I cannot sit still. And, as most of you know, a woman close to her due date is a busy lady; the desire to nest, to insure that everything is ready to welcome the new baby, is strong and hard to ignore.

"You're having this baby tomorrow. I'm admitting you now," my doctor told me.

"Um, OK, can I call my husband?" Frank had dropped me off and gone back to work, planning on returning to take me home after my appointment.

"Sure. Dial 9 to get an outside line."

"Hi," I said, "Guess what? We're having Evan tomorrow. She's inducing me in the morning. You need to come get me and take me to the hospital. Now."

"Uh, OK. I'll be right there," came my startled husband's reply.

Once we had been admitted and I had been installed in our room, I called my sister. Frank and I were woefully unprepared to go to the hospital. I mean, we both thought we had more time since Evan wasn't due to arrive for another three weeks. I had not packed the proverbial bag, the car seat was still sitting in the guest room, the house was a mess.

Katy, God bless her, drove to our home, packed a bag for both of us and clothes for the baby and brought it to us. She would also be with us in the delivery room throughout my labor.

I remember being too anxious to really sleep. Plus, the hospital is no place for restful relaxation.

And so I waited to meet my boy.

My beautiful, beautiful, beautiful boy.

My Evan.

A Realization

2009-01-28T16:14:00.002-06:00

I just came in from shoveling the driveway. Normally, Frank handles these things but since I'm a 'can do' kind of girl and the kids wanted to go out and play I thought I'd tackle the task at hand.

Boy, was that a dumb idea. The act of shoveling was not difficult (I sent my "helpers" on an expedition to find the sidewalk, otherwise they'd help me like they help their dad; Evan throws snowballs and Flynn makes snow angels. Apparently they found dinosaur bones in the snow), but I came to realize the following:

1. I need some serious snow boots. What passes for snow boots for me are really just glorified rain boots and have no insulation whatsoever. Any suggestions?

2. Some snow pants would be nice. My bum is freezing.

3. Our snow shovel is an absolute piece of rubbish. I cleared most of the driveway with a small shovel meant for a child because the end of our adult-sized shovel is pretty much non-existent. Seriously, it looks like it's been held over a fire; it's all ragged and melted, worn away from scraping against the concrete of the driveway.

After about an hour of this, Evan and I had cleared the majority of the driveway (Flynn came in after being out for about 45 minutes). Frank can handle the rest.

Now I sit here, typing away, listening to a song mix for a friend, nursing a well-earned mug of hot cocoa (with lots of tiny marshmallows).

But at least I can pull the van into the garage without getting stuck in the driveway.

Less Talk, More Rokk

2009-01-27T12:28:00.003-06:00

How is it I've lived this long and not heard of the band Freezepop until 3 weeks ago? I was listening to NPR's Weekend Edition, heard their interview and knew I had to have some of their music. I came home and downloaded their 2007 album, Future Future Future Perfect. Smart, occasionally funny lyrics paired with groovy, danceable synth-pop. I am of a mind that the members of this band are around my age and were teenagers in the '80's and, like me, loved The Thompson Twins , Book of Love, and Howard Jones. They're not as dark as Depeche Mode or New Order, or over the top like Erasure but I do hear strains of those seminal bands.

I've been listening to FFFP lately and truly dig it. This song, "Less Talk More Rokk," is the first track and certainly sets the tone for the album. Two of my favorite songs on FFFP are "Pop Music Is Not A Crime" and "Thought Balloon", a beautiful little ballad which sounds like it could be in either Sixteen Candles or The Breakfast Club. "Ninja of Love" is a good one, too, and "Brainpower."

OK, so you can't go wrong with this album. At all.

I'm anticipating more great music from Freezepop.

An Oldie But A Goodie or The Baby Jerk

2009-01-26T10:03:00.004-06:00

This is my favorite Flynn story and has reached legend status in our family. And it's all true.

We had just dropped my mom off after an afternoon of errands. Nana had given Evan, then 4, and Flynn, 2, each a dollar which was burning a hole in their respective pockets. As we drove to the dollar store, the driver in front of me pulled into traffic without signaling.

"Nice turn signal, jerk.", I muttered.

"Mommy? What's a jerk?", Evan asked.

"Well," I said trying to think how I could relate what "jerk" meant in terms a 4-year-old could understand, "a jerk is a person who acts before thinking, they don't think how their actions will effect other people." Or something like that.

All was quiet for a moment, only the musical warbling of The Wiggles heard in the car ("Toot, toot/Chugga, chugga/Big red car...").

Then, Evan said, "Sometimes, I'm a jerk."

I thought this was pretty self-aware for a preschooler.

"Well, sometimes everyone's a jerk," was my reply.

"Flynn's a baby jerk."

Flynn, as indignant as a 2-year-old can be said (because at that point the worst thing Evan could call her was a baby), "I NOT a baby! I a BIG jerk."

My Big Date

2009-01-25T16:19:00.002-06:00

"Mom, remember when Flynn stayed home and you and I went to lunch by ourselves?", asked Evan.

"Yes, I do."

"Can we do that again?"

"Sure."

"Pinky promise?"

"Pinky promise."

This afternoon my son and I ditched my husband and daughter for some quality mom-and-son time. We dined on salad and soup at the Olive Garden, then since it was so close we toured Toys R Us. Evan is a member of their Birthday Club, so he received a $3 coupon, a paper crown and a balloon. The manager even made a special announcement over the store-wide intercom, "Attention Toys R Us guests, we have a very special boy celebrating his 8th birthday with us today. So, if you happen to see Evan walking around with his crown and balloon, wish him a 'Happy Birthday.'" Evan was tickled pink. Of course he walked out of there with a new Pokemon to add to the collection.

Our next stop was a local bookstore where we munched on animal cookies and sipped hot chocolate while perusing the kids' section.

We also ran one brief errand, ordering his ice cream cake for our party with family next week.

In the car Evan said, "Mom, I am so happy I got to spend the day with just you. You're the best mom in the world, even the universe. I love you."

"I love you, too, Evan and it makes me happy that you're happy. I love spending time with you, too."

And I so totally do.

The Reconciling

2009-01-24T16:58:00.002-06:00

Today my son received the Sacrament of Reconciliation, otherwise known as confession, for the first time.

If you aren't Catholic let me clue you in on what this entails: first, you go into the confessional (at our church it's a little room) and then you tell the priest your sins. He forgives you and gives you some sort of penance to do usually involving praying so many "Our Father"s and/or "Hail Mary"s and another prayer called "The Act of Contrition".

Evan took his first confession quite seriously, as did most of the kids in his class. He and his fellow second graders had been preparing for this for well over a month. "I'm not going to tell you what I'm going to tell Father," he told me last week. I said that's fine, that's between him and our priest. "I only want to tell him my mortal sins." For those of you not in the know, mortal sins are super duper bad, like committing murder. Which makes me wonder what Evan considers a mortal sin. He's not even eight years old (yet).

Today brought back memories of my first confession: I was ten and my mom, sister and I were in the process of converting to Catholicism to appease my mom's second husband (whom I will forever refer to as That Drunken Bastard). I don't know why it was so important to him that we convert considering the only time he ever went to Mass was on Easter and Christmas Eve.

Anyhoo.

Father Wallner, our hometown parish priest was a kindly man. He walked me through the process of First Confession after school one day. I prayed for a while, then entered the confessional which offered the option of a screen between the priest and penitent or face-to-face. I chose to sit across from Fr. W and chat. The area behind the screen was like the set of a 1970's-era TV talk show: a raised platform covered in burnt orange shag carpeting, a little round table covered in various pamphlets between two bucket-style chairs, a wicker lamp suspended overhead, casting a yellow glow over the proceedings. I don't recall the particulars of my confession (it probably involved the average, every day sins kids commit: not being nice to a sibling/friend/parent, not praying, lying to my mom, etc.), but I do know I didn't tell him how much I hated my mother's husband. That was something I knew not to talk about. To anyone, priest or no.

But even though my initial experience was a good one, I've never really liked going to confession. The last time I went was the day before Frank and I were married. And I don't feel guilty for that. Just because I'm Catholic, doesn't mean I believe the Church lock, stock and barrel. I've always felt strange talking to a priest who was supposed to be a stand-in for God, even those priests I've been very close to. I believe that God knows my heart of hearts: knows what I am truly sorry for and loves me regardless. We're squared away, me and God.

But I'm happy Evan feels comfortable enough with our parish priests that he can go to them, confess whatever sins he feels he's committed, and feel better for it. He said he'd go again.

And then we went bowling.

Preciousssssssss

2009-01-23T17:10:00.003-06:00

I've not done such a great job of updating here lately. It's not that I've been super busy or anything, just haven't had much to write about. I've been listening to some good music, not sure if I'm going to finish the book I'm reading, have tons of laundry that needs to be put away.

And I've just felt pretty meh.

Although, the kids (well, Evan) came up with a pretty good one last night.

Here's the set up: When Frank gives the kids a bath he will put his bare feet in the tub and the kids will wash his feet. You can draw whatever Biblical analogies you wish (I'm sure that will give Frank quite an ego boost). It keeps the kids occupied and Frank gets a pedicure in the process.

So.

Last night as the kids were washing Daddy's feet, I hear the following:

Frank: Don't pour the water so high on my leg. I don't want my pants to get wet.

Evan: OK, Daddy Precious Pants.

"Daddy Precious Pants." It still makes me giggle.

Play List for 8-Year-Olds

2009-01-18T17:51:00.002-06:00

For the past couple of years I've made mix discs as party favors for my kids' birthday parties. The play lists usually revolve around the party theme. Past offerings include outer space, science, princesses (including the song "I Wish I Were A Princess" from the original Hairspray movie soundtrack, resulting in a friend silently cursing me as his kids played it over and over and over), and beach music.

This year kinda threw me for a loop. Evan's having a Lego-themed party.

Today he and I put together a play list that incorporates Lego songs (who knew they existed, but a search of MP3's on Amazon revealed 4) with other songs he likes, including several Pokemon songs. Evan's calling it, Music for Legos.

Here's what we came up with:

1. Hey Sandy - Polaris
2. Action Packed - Jonathan Richman
3. The Amazing Spider-Man (the definitive theme to the 60's cartoon)
4. Mach 5 - The Presidents of the USA
5. Pokerap (yes, a rap using ALL of the Pokemon)
6. Awesome Forces - The Aquabats
7. When Worlds Collide (from SpongeBob Goes Prehistoric)
8. Lego Next Level - Oleg Kostrow
9. Intergalactic - The Beastie Boys
10. Star Wars Main Title mix (Evan did his Black Belt musical form to this)
11. I Like To Move It - Sasha Baron Cohen (from Madagascar)
12. 2BA Master
13. Move Any Mountain - The Shamen
14. Lego Boogie - Oleg Kostrow
15. Down Under - Men at Work (because Evan wants to live in Australia)
16. Leave It All To Me - Miranda Cosgrove (theme to iCarly)
17. Energy - Apples In Stereo
18. Pop Muzik - M
19. Buildings & Mountains - The Republic Tigers
20. Mighty Little Man - Steven Burns
21. Pokemon theme (yeah, Evan's into Pokemon big time)
22. Ripped Pants - SpongeBob
23. Underdog theme
24. Spider - They Might Be Giants
25. Speed Racer theme
26. Lego for the Countryside - Oleg Kostrow
27. Got My Own Thing Now - Squirrel Nut Zippers
28 Breakfast Machine (from Pee Wee's Big Adventure)

28 songs clocking in at around 75 minutes. Evan's very happy with it and we hope his friends will be, too.

It's Below Freezing Out But...

2009-01-14T19:37:00.002-06:00

As we passed the big sledding hill on the way home from school this afternoon, Evan got really sulky and pouty saying, "I've been waiting all year to go sledding! Why can't we go sledding? It's not fair those other kids get to go sledding and we're going home."

The kids were desperate to go out and play in the snow; school had been canceled for the following day and they were practically giddy with the prospect of an entire Thursday with nothing to do. So I bundled them up and sent them out. Flynn wore Evan's old snowsuit and even though it's a little big on her, it did the job nicely. She looked so cute in her purple boots, Barbie hat, hot pink mittens and black/red/white/blue snowsuit.

Evan and Flynn had a blast sledding down the little hill in our backyard. I let them stay out a little over 30 minutes then had them come in. The wind was picking up and with the wind chill in the negative degrees, I didn't want them out for very long.

They were all pink cheeks and smiles.
Here's to tomorrow's snow day. Flynn wants to set up a movie theater for her dolls and Evan and I are going to play some Lego Star Wars on the 360.

But we are not going outside.

On a tangential note, Evan wants me to mention that his birthday is coming up. On the 31st. He just wants you all to know. (He's sitting next to me, reading over my shoulder)

I'm The Mutha' Flippin'

2009-01-10T19:48:00.002-06:00

I've had this song, Hiphopotamus vs. Rhymnoceros, by Flight Of The Choncords going through my head lately. It helped pass the time with the 12-year-olds.

Flippin' hilarious.

Survival Of The Fittest

2009-01-09T15:27:00.002-06:00

If Darwin has anything to say about it, most of the kids I taught this week will not reproduce.

At least that's the prayer.

I gave out two detentions today: two boys were being stupid. They left the classroom without asking permission and then proceeded to wrestle over one of the kids' shoes in the hallway. I mean, what the hell? Dumb. Dumb. Dumb.

And during the last 10 minutes of the day, the 7th grade science teacher, taking time out of her prep period, popped in to explain some of the extra credit and got nothing but disrespect from this pack of overly-caffeinated 12-year-olds. She finally told them in plain English to shut up (I'm pretty sure she was thinking, "Will you little fuckers just shut the hell up? What is wrong with you?" Or maybe that was just me). I would've cheered for her or at the very least offered up an "Amen, sister!", but I wanted to set a good example for the kiddies.

I have survived the week.

And I want a drink of alcoholic nature the size of a large baby.

My Heart Goes Out To Middle School Teachers Everywhere

2009-01-08T18:13:00.003-06:00

Give me 90 15-17-year-olds over 40 12-year-olds any old day.

Seriously.

I loved teaching high school.

My students, with very few exceptions, were excellent and I'm not just saying that because some of them might be reading this. What I enjoyed about "my" kids was that they were (and still are) incredibly smart, creative individuals. They could (and did) discuss college-level material, asking and answering insightful questions.

But, 7th graders are different animals altogether.

Granted, I'm only with this group of kids for a week. And they are good kids (for the most part), just more prone to fidgeting, straying off track, and just having poor(er) impulse control. I know this is because they are twelve and their brains are still developing.

I KNOW this.

But I am more tired and cranky after a day with this group of kids than I ever was after a full day with high school juniors and seniors, even when I was eight months pregnant.

And one other thing. In all the years I taught high school I never handed out a detention. Never. Not one. Did I give a zero to a senior who cheated on an exam right in front of me? Oh, yeah. Did I turn in a kid who plagiarized an entire research paper (he copied the whole thing from the introduction in the textbook)? You bet your sweet bippy I did. But I never had to give a detention.

I gave one out yesterday and the kid I gave it to practically asked for it by throwing a paper airplane not ten seconds after I told him that if he launched that airplane, he'd get a detention.

Today was a long day, especially the afternoon (I think all of my homeroom class had too much pop and/or sugar for lunch; they were nine kinds of crazy - worse than any preschool class). But I didn't have to hand out detentions, though one class was cruising that way until I started writing down names.

It's not that I don't like these kids. I do. Like I said, they are good kids.

But they are twelve.

TWELVE, I tell you.

Maddeningly so.

Baby Tooth #2 "Bites" The Dust

2009-01-05T20:06:00.003-06:00

About 15 minutes ago Flynn was flossing her teeth while I was drying her hair. All of a sudden, plink, formerly-wobbly baby tooth #2 lands in the sink.

After she brushed her remaining teeth Flynn remarked excitedly, "The toothpaste and my blood made green!"

She's very excited at the prospect of the Tooth Fairy making a return trip tonight.

Planning Ahead For The "Big Day"

2009-01-05T15:18:00.002-06:00

My son, who will turn 8 at the end of the month, often has a difficult time falling asleep at night. Like his father and his father's father he has a hard time turning off his brain. Frank has no problem sleeping, but has a tendency to start ruminating on a specific topic and then worry about it, then worry about worrying about it.

The apple does not fall far from the tree.

Evan usually vocalizes his worries, which is good in a way. I'm glad he feels he can talk to us about what's on his mind.

However.

When it's nearly 10:00 p.m. and he says, "Who will I take to Prom?" I have a hard time sympathizing.

Yes, this is what keeps my son awake at night: Prom.

He's worried the girl he's planning to ask will say no and nobody will dance with him.

I assured him that any girl would be thrilled to go to Prom with him; he's funny, smart, very kind and sweet, and cute as hell (I left the "as hell" part out).

Then I told him to go. to. sleep.

Prom is nine years away.

She's Of A Certain Age

2009-01-02T10:09:00.003-06:00

My 5-year-old lost her first tooth last night and while I've long been aware of the "wobbly teeth" it sort of surprised me that Flynn's at that age when her baby teeth will start falling out of her head, pushed out by the teeth that will (hopefully) remain with her for the rest of her life.

The bottom two front teeth have been wobbly for a while now, slowly but surely working their way out of her head. She was really working the wobblier of the two, prolonging the time when her head should have been resting on her "My Little Pony" pillow. About 9:00 (waaaaaay past her normal bed time) she sat up, reached for a tissue on her night stand to soak up "all the blood" (there was maybe a teeny, tiny bit of blood in her mouth but she's all drama all the time). Not long after she stuffed the Kleenex in her mouth, she got this surprised look on her face, spat out the tissue and along with it her tooth. After showing her daddy and brother her little tooth, she placed it on her dresser and finally fell asleep.The Tooth Fairy paid her a visit and left her four shiny quarters, which she is carrying around counting them over and over again.

I predict the next tooth will join its departed neighbor within a week, it's that loose.

The Best Way To Ring In 2009

2009-01-01T12:36:00.003-06:00

Yesterday after a fun-filled afternoon of bowling with my sister, her family and some friends, Frank decamped to the bedroom. He was sick, something he's been fighting since Christmas only this time it was intestinal (ewwww).

So the kids and I readied ourselves for a New Year's celebration that involved a picnic in the family room and Evan eating his weight in shrimp cocktail. After we changed into our jammies, we piled on the couch to watch the peerless Pee Wee's Big Adventure, one of my all-time favorite movies. The kids love the Pee Wee almost as much as I do and I can't think of a better way to welcome 2009 than watching Evan and Flynn dance along to this scene:

When the movie was over we adjourned to my bedroom for a family sleep over.

And I started my first book of the new year just before midnight.

Today we're continuing the celebration by watching the all-day Looney Tunes marathon on Cartoon Network. Frank's feeling much better and is currently building Legos with Evan. Flynn's playing with her new dolls.

So far 2009's turned out pretty good. Hope this bodes well for the other 364 days.

What I Loved, 2008

2008-12-31T10:38:00.004-06:00

I keep a little notebook on my nightstand. In it I write down the books I read over the course of a year. In addition to the book's title and author, I usually jot a little note regarding my overall impression about that particular title.

A couple people asked for my favorites of the year. I narrowed it down to the top five in fiction and non-fiction.

Top 5 Fiction of 2008 (it was really, really hard to narrow it down to five):
1. Wintersmith - Sir Terry Pratchett (he was recently knighted by Queen Elizabeth)
2. The Graveyard Book - Neil Gaiman
3. An Arsonist's Guide to Writers' Homes in New England - Brock Clarke
4. The Pale Blue Eye - Louis Bayard
5. I Love You, Beth Cooper - Larry Doyle

Top 5 Young Adult Fiction of 2008:
1. Redwall - Brian Jacques
2. The Percy Jackson and The Olympians books (The Lightning Thief, et. al.) - Rick Riordan
3. Soon I Will Be Invincable - Austin Grossman
4. Zel - Donna Jo Napoli
5. The Twilight series - Stephanie Meyer

Top 5 Non-Fiction of 2008:
1. The Areas of My Expertise - John Hodgman
2. The Shock Doctrine - Naomi Klein
3. The $64 Tomato - William Alexander
4. Blood Brothers - Michael Weisskopf
5. The Amazing Mackerel Pudding Plan - Wendy McClure

Top 5 Comic Books of 2008:
1. One Hundred Demons - Lynda Barry
2. Owly: A Time To Be Brave - Andy Runton
3. The Mouse Gaurds - David Peterson
4. Too Cool To Be Forgotten - Alex Robinson
5. Funhome - Alison Bechtel

With the good, you get the bad and I read some stinkers this year. Stay far away from the following books, the worst I read in 2008, if you know what's good for you:
1. Footsucker - Geoff Nicholson

2. Alligator - Lisa Moore (I have no recollection of reading this book, other than the fact that there are no alligators in it.)

3. Eye Contact - Cammie McGovern (my note for this says it all: "meh.")
4. Generation Ecstasy - Simon Reynolds
5. The Monstrous Memoirs of a Mighty McFearless - Ahmet Zappa (which is too bad because I love the title)

Leeanthro wondered what book I'd like to hear on audio. My choice is Terry Pratchett's bloody fantastic Wintersmith, mainly because I'd love to hear the Feegles (they have Scottish accents and are hilarious).

So there you go. Here's to a 2009 filled with great books, comics, poetry: beautiful, beautiful words.

A Year In Books or Take That, 90.

2008-12-30T16:24:00.002-06:00

I know, I know.

I've been M.I.A. for about two weeks now - the longest I've gone without writing here while I've been at home (though I did spend four days in Chicago away from a computer). I've been busy what with Christmas and all (more to come later, especially a picture of Flynn and her new doll, Kit with their matching dresses).

It's that time of year when I list all of the books I read over the course of 2008 (I'm a day early but I'll finish my current book tonight).

(Deep breath in) Here goes:

1. The Thief Lord - Cornelia Funke
2. Toast - Nigel Slater
3. It's Not About The Tapas - Polly Evans
4. The Devil Wears Prada - Lauren Weisberger
5. Saturday - Ian McEwan
6. The Solace of Leaving Early - Haven Kimmel
7. Artemis Fowl: The Lost Colony - Eoin Colfer
8. Alligator - Lisa Moore
9. The Idiot Girls' Action-Adventure Club - Laurie Notaro
10. Never Let Me Go - Kazuo Ishiguro
11. Holy Cow - Sarah MacDonald
12. My Life As A Fake - Peter Carey
13. The City of Ember - Jeanne DuPrau
14. Mr. Timothy - Louis Bayard
15. Stephen Fry's Incomplete and Utter History of Classical Music - Stephen Fry
16. March - Geraldine Brooks
17. The Pale Blue Eye - Louis Bayard
18. The Book of Ralph - John McNally
19. Into The Wild - Jon Krakauer
20. Tabloid Love - Bridget Harrison
21. The Death of Ivan Illyich - Leo Tolstoy
22. Soon I Will Be Invincible - Austin Grossman
23. The Meaning of Night - Michael Cox
24. Nature Noir - Jordan Fisher Smith
25. The Magic Circle - Donna Jo Napoli
26. Sirens - Donna Jo Napoli
27. Zel - Donna Jo Napoli
28. Spinners - Donna Jo Napoli
29. The Prince of The Pond - Donna Jo Napoli
30. Stones In Water - Donna Jo Napoli
31. Beast - Donna Jo Napoli
32. Disgrace - J.M. Coetzee
33. History Lessons for Girls - Aurelie Sheehan
34. Everything Here Is Mine - Nicole Hollander
35. My Cat's Not Fat, He's Just Big Boned - Nicole Hollander
36. Assassination Vacation - Sarah Vowell
37. The Dead Beat - Marilyn Johnson
38. Girl - Blake Nelson
39. I Love You, Beth Cooper - Larry Doyle
40. The Areas of My Expertise - John Hodgman
41. What Did I Do Last Night? - Tom Sykes
42. The White Mountains - John Christopher
43. Interworld - Neil Gaiman & Michael Reaves
44. M Is For Magic - Neil Gaiman
45. Exile - Blake Nelson
46. Take The Canoli - Sarah Vowell
47. Footsucker - Geoff Nicholson
48. Paula Spencer - Roddy Doyle
49. The Uncommon Reader - Alan Bennett
50. The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian - Sherman Alexie
51. Eye Contact - Cammie McGovern
52. The Autobiography of Joseph Stalin - Richard Lourie
53. I Capture The Castle - Dodie Smith
54. Finbar's Hotel - Dermot Bolger, ed.
55. Peony In Love - Lisa See
56. Him Her Him Again The End of Him - Patricia Marx
57. After Dachau - Daniel Quinn
58. Candyfloss - Jaqueline Wilson
59. The Apprentice - Jacques Pepin
60. The Mouse Guards - David Peterson
61. Flying Dutch - Tom Holt
62. One Hundred Demons - Lynda Barry
63. Owly: A Time To Be Brave - Andy Runton
64. Too Cool To Be Forgotten - Alex Robinson
65. I Am Legend - Richard Matheson
66. Cat Getting Out Of A Paper Bag - Jeffrey Brown
67. The No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency - Alexander MacColl Smith
68. Everything Is Illuminated - Jonathan Safran Foer
69. Bighead - Jeffrey Brown
70. Clumsy - Jeffrey Brown
71. The Yiddish Policemen's Union - Michael Chabon
72. The Amazing Mackerel Pudding Plan - Wendy McClure
73. Ishmael - Daniel Quinn
74. Happiness Sold Separately - Lolly Winston
75. The Italian Secretary - Caleb Carr
76. Complications - Atul Gawande
77. Pigtopia - Kitty Fitzgerald
78. Eat This Not That! For Kids - David Zinczenko
79. The Places In Between - Rory Stewart
80. A Zoo In My Luggage - Gerald Durell
81. We Need To Talk About Kevin - Lionel Shriver
82. Georgie - Malachy Doyle
83. Now Is The Hour - Tom Spanbauer
84. Eat This Not That! - David Zinczenko
85. The Great God Pan - Donna Jo Napoli
86. Three Cups of Tea - Greg Mortenson and D.O. Relin
87. Don't Try This At Home - Kimberly Witherspoon & Andrew Friedman, eds.
88. Mixed-Up Max - Dick King-Smith
89. Generation Ecstasy - Simon Reynolds
90. Twilight - Stephanie Meyer
91. New Moon - Stephanie Meyer
92. Eclipse - Stephanie Meyer
93. Breaking Dawn - Stephanie Meyer
94. Funhome - Alison Bechdel
95. The Shock Doctrine - Naomi Kelin
96. Nation - Terry Pratchett
97. The Graveyard Book - Neil Gaiman
98. Mississippi Sissy - Kevin Sessums
99. Snakes and Earrings - Hitomi Kanehara
100. Half-Moon Investigations - Eoin Colfer
101. The Amulet - Kazu Kibuishi
102. Absurdistan - Gary Shteyngart
103. The $64 Tomato - William Alexander
104. Beautiful Stranger - Hope Donahue
105. S/He - Minnie Bruce Pratt
106. Wish I Could Be There - Allen Shawn
107. The Brief Wonderous Life of Oscar Wao - Junot Diaz
108. The Kiss and Other Stories -Kate Chopin
109. Undead and Unemployed - Mary Janice Davidson
110. Blood Brothers - Michael Weisskopf
111. Speak - Laurie Halse Anderson
112. An Arsonist's Guide To Writers' Homes In New England - Brock Clarke
113. Twelve - Nick McDonell
114. Wintersmith - Terry Pratchett
115. Dragonslippers - Rosalind Penfold
116. The Monstrous Memoirs of a Mighty McFearless - Ahmet Zappa
117. The Lightning Thief - Rick Riordan
118. The Sea of Monsters - Rick Riordan
119. The Titan's Curse - Rick Riordan
120. Redwall - Brian Jacques

whew.

Yeah, one hundred and twenty. That's a lot of books.

Gingerbread House

2008-12-17T15:04:00.002-06:00

Flynn and her fellow kindergartners made "gingerbread" houses today in class. The house is constructed with graham crackers and a milk carton. They had a blast and could hardly wait to take it home.

Flynn shared hers with Evan and they dove in almost as soon as we walked in the door.

They're so sugared up right now I believe they're vibrating.

I think I'll send them outside to play in the snow.

Lykke Li with "Little Bit"

2008-12-17T08:17:00.000-06:00

This song, Little Bit by Swedish singer Lykke Li, hypnotizes me every time and I've been grooving to it for a couple of weeks now. It just crawls inside my brain and makes me want to move, if not like the dancers getting their freak on in this video, then something very similar.

Anyway, hope you like it as well.

Flynnie's New Quilt

2008-12-12T08:25:00.003-06:00

Yesterday I got on the stick and finished Flynn's "Kit" quilt. Since she's become obsessed with Kit Kitteridge, an American Girl doll, she's a)wanted to look like Kit and b)possess all of Kit's stuff, including Kit. The day she had her hair cut to look like Kit we stopped by the fabric store, a dangerous thing for my mother and I to do but patterns were on sale for $1.

I'd been planning on making Flynn a quilt for a while but couldn't pin down what fabrics to use. The Kit obsession gave me an idea: Kit's stories take place during the 1930's so I decided to use Depression-era reproduction cottons. Flynn, my mom and I started pulling bolts of fabric left and right but settled on five (I already had the small print cherry fabric at home, which Flynn insisted on using); later I would purchase two yards of '30's reproduction prints from a fabric store in Urbana.

I have to say that Flynn has a good eye for color and pattern since she's the one who picked out the majority of the fabrics.The quilt is composed of 12" blocks alternating with 4-patch blocks (4, 6" squares sewn together). I found the backing at Hancock's on their clearance table for 60% off. Flynn loves the peachy-pink color and the white flowers pair nicely with the rest of the floral patterns in the quilt top. Flynn chose the threads I quilted with; red, light blue, yellow, lavender, and baby pink. The binding is also a reproduction fabric but is not used in the quilt top at all, but I think it looks nice.

Most importantly, Flynn loves it. She wrapped herself up in it as soon as she laid eyes on it.Now she wants matching quilts for each of her dolls (she calls them her sisters): Maria, Sophie, Jessie and Katherine. I'll need to make two extra as the Fat Man is bringing her Kit and Kit's best friend, Ruthie.

I better get sewing.

Tea and Cookies

2008-12-11T11:20:00.002-06:00

I made six dozen of these deliciously crispy sesame cookies this morning; five dozen for a church fundraiser and some for our letter carrier (I'm eating what's left). The cookies are *this* close to being vegan; no butter or milk and I'm sure there's some substitute for the egg.

Now if you'll excuse me I have some cookies to devour...

Ray of Light

2008-12-10T11:02:00.003-06:00

Here's a little meme I stole from Facebook. It's fun and possibly a bit revealing.

1. Put your iPod or whatever music player you have on shuffle. (I don't own an iPod, so I'm using my Sansa miniclip).
2. For each question, press the next button to get your answer.
3. YOU MUST WRITE THAT SONG NAME DOWN NO MATTER HOW SILLY IT SOUNDS!
4. Tag 5 friends who might enjoy doing this as well as the person you got this from. Let them know they've been tagged.

OK, I'm using my miniclip and there aren't a lot of deep meaningful songs on here - I use this when I'm working out and it's heavily stacked with fast-moving techno and punk. I'm just sayin'.

IF SOMEONE SAYS "IS THIS OKAY" YOU SAY?
Poprocks & Coke by Green Day

WHAT WOULD BEST DESCRIBE YOUR PERSONALITY?
Times Like These by Foo Fighters

WHAT DO YOU LIKE IN A GUY/GIRL?
Hyperactive! by Thomas Dolby (strange considering my husband can sleep like a hibernating bear anywhere anytime)

WHAT IS YOUR LIFE'S PURPOSE?
Spitfire by Prodigy

WHAT IS YOUR MOTTO?
Here It Goes Again by OK Go

WHAT DO YOUR FRIENDS THINK OF YOU?
Volcano Girls by Veruca Salt

WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT VERY OFTEN?
Blitzkrieg Bop by The Ramones

WHAT IS 2+2?
Ana Ng by They Might Be Giants

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR BEST FRIEND?
Preparedness by The Bird and The Bee

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THE PERSON YOU LIKE?
The One Thing by INXS

WHAT IS YOUR LIFE STORY?
Hell by Squirrel Nut Zippers

WHAT DO YOU WANT TO BE WHEN YOU GROW UP?
Never Miss a Beat by The Kaiser Chiefs

WHAT DO YOU THINK WHEN YOU SEE THE PERSON YOU LIKE?
Philosophofee by Ima Robot

WHAT DO YOUR PARENTS THINK OF YOU?
Jimmy Neutron Theme by Bowling For Soup

WHAT WILL YOU DANCE TO AT YOUR WEDDING?
So What'cha Want by The Beastie Boys

WHAT WILL THEY PLAY AT YOUR FUNERAL?
Disco Infiltrator by LCD Soundsystem

WHAT IS YOUR HOBBY/INTEREST?
2 Atoms In A Molecule by Noah and The Whale

WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST SECRET?
Supermodel by Jill Sobule

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR FRIENDS?
Move Any Mountain by The Shamen

WHAT'S THE WORST THING THAT COULD HAPPEN?

I Was Dancing In The Lesbian Bar by Jonathan Richman (But that's where they play all the good music!)

HOW WILL YOU DIE?
Take Your Mama by Scissor Sisters

WHAT IS THE ONE THING YOU REGRET?
Meltdown! by The Aquabats

WHAT MAKES YOU LAUGH?
Happy Rap by Junior Senior

WHAT MAKES YOU CRY?
Town Called Malice by The Jam

WILL YOU EVER GET MARRIED?
Moving by Supergrass

WHAT SCARES YOU THE MOST?
Tron by Foals

DOES ANYONE LIKE YOU?
Troubled Times by The Merrymakers

IF YOU COULD GO BACK IN TIME, WHAT WOULD YOU CHANGE?
Shut Up and Let Me Go by The Ting Tings

WHAT HURTS RIGHT NOW?
True Faith by New Order

WHAT WILL YOU POST THIS AS?
Ray of Light by Madonna

I tag:
Looseyfur
Quigs
Mrs. Chicken
Leeanthro
Belle Noelle

This Ain't No Party, This Ain't No Disco

2008-12-09T11:15:00.002-06:00

Lately, I've been listening to a lot of Talking Heads (a band I've loved for what seems like forever) and adore this live version of "Life During Wartime" from their excellent concert film, Stop Making Sense. I can't help but dance when I hear this song.

Jeez, I wish I had David Byrne's aerobic capacity. He does not stop moving. And Tina Weymouth jumping around with her bass just makes me want to lie down.

The Crazy Mommy Plan by A Certain 5-Year-Old Girl

2008-12-05T08:10:00.003-06:00

Hey, kids! Are you tired of the same old, boring, work-a-day, even-keeled mom? Do you long for some excitement? Follow my technique, perfected over the course of five years, and you too will have your very own Crazy Mommy and you will certainly spice things up at your house!

Step 1: Be 5.

Step 2: While your mom is preparing a meal, claim to be the "starvingest child in the whole world". (I've found that this works best at dinner time.) It is important that you wait until she is actually in the act of cooking before you tell her you're hungry. Crawling around on the floor helps.

Step 3: Ask for a piece of candy. Repeatedly.

Example: You:"Mom? Can I have a piece of candy?"
Mom: "No. I'm making dinner."
You: "Please? Just one little piece of candy?"
Mom: "No."
You: "How about now?"
Mom: "I said no."
You: "Now?"

Keep this up until your mom starts to count to 3. It is important that you stop asking at count 2 or else you'll wind up in Time Out on the stairs, which is no fun for everybody involved (especially you).

Step 4: At this point your mom may offer you a variety of healthy snack options. Turn them all down no matter how much you like these foods. Carrots? No. Yogurt? No. Apple slices? No. Piece of string cheese? No way. Cracker? Uh-uh. Counter the offer with a request for either candy or a fruit snack.

You should notice that your mom is starting to act a little funny; closing drawers a little more forcefully than normal, not being able to find a utensil (it helps if you took whatever it is she's looking for and put it in your own play kitchen), and she might be a little red in the face.

Step 5: Mom will offer you a slice of bread and butter. Take it. You have two ways to go here. One way is to take a single tiny, measly bite out of the slice of bread, claim you are full and throw it in the trash. The other way is to sit down at the table with your bread and butter and proceed to eat only the butter, not the bread (This is important: DO NOT EAT THE BREAD).

Step 6: Once your family is sitting at the table and eating the meal your mother just prepared, take one look at it and proclaim it to be "yuck." If you have dramatic tendencies, turn it up to 11; push away from the table and make a sick face, claim your tummy hurts and you can't eat dinner, cry. Also state, "I'm not eating that." It does not matter what's in front of you. It could be your favorite meal in the world (like plain spaghetti noodles with butter and Parmesan cheese). Do not eat it.

Step 6a: Another little trick I've come up with is to tell your mom that your dinner is dirty and needs to be washed off. I just did this the other night and the result was spectacular (my mom developed this cool twitching near her eye). The meal consisted of ham and peas (I call them "green drops"; it makes them sound nicer.). After following steps 1-6 of my Crazy Mommy plan I added this twist: I picked up the pieces of ham off my plate, carried them to the bathroom, rinsed them off with some water from the sink, and returned to the table. I also told my mom that I couldn't eat the peas because they "had cracks in them." Mommy's face turned a lovely shade of purple.

Step 7: Only after you've been threatened with no books before bed do you succumb to eating your dinner and then eat only the requisite number of bites (I have to eat 5 full bites of everything on my plate). Make sure you eat as slowly as possible and with great exaggeration.

Step 8: Ask for a piece of candy.

If you follow my 8 Steps to success you, too, will have a fun Crazy Mommy!

Flight of The Conchords

2008-12-03T10:11:00.002-06:00

I've only recently discovered Flight of The Conchords (we don't have HBO) and this song, Foux du Fafa, makes me laugh out loud.

The Wish List

2008-12-02T08:15:00.003-06:00

My children have been working feverishly on their Christmas Wish lists for Santa for months. This year, Flynn wrote out hers by herself and has been adding to it almost daily. It consists mainly of items from the American Girl catalog and Star Wars action figures. Evan's list is easy: he would like the Lego catalog. In its entirety. When the Lego catalog arrived I mentioned to Frank, "Evan's Christmas list came in the mail today."

My list is also short and sweet. It consists of 3 items:

1. Sharp knives. Frank and I were given a nice set of knives as a wedding gift and we have used them almost every day for over a dozen years. They're more than a little dull and the wooden handles are cracking.

2. A few sessions with a personal trainer. I'd like to work with a trainer to make sure my strength training form is good so I don't continue to injure myself.

3. Photoshop, Illustrator or at the very least Publisher. My new computer does not have any sort of imaging software and I could really use some, mainly for CD case liners.

What's on your wish list?

You know, aside from world peace, an end to poverty and hunger and war and all that good stuff.

First Snow

2008-11-30T12:09:00.003-06:00

This is what Frank and I awoke to this morning; both children virtually screaming with excitement, "It's snowing! It's snowing! It's almost Christmas! Can we go outside? Can we? Can we build a snowman? Get up! It's snowing!"

Flynn added, "It's almost God's birthday!"

13 Years Or So And Counting

2008-11-29T18:14:00.002-06:00

This morning at my mother-in-law's home my daughter responded with the following when asked what she'd like for breakfast, "One of these," as she pointed to a chocolate covered graham cracker, "with whip cream on top."

Me: Uh, no, try again. No cookies for breakfast.

Flynn: That's NOT a cookie. Cookies are round.

Me: Cookies can be pretty much any shape. I know Oma will let you have cookies with whip cream for breakfast, but I'm not Oma. No cookies.

(There was no getting by me on this one; Oma had left at 5 a.m. for Branson, Missouri of all places.)

She looked at me, put her hands on her little hips and replied with anger in her voice, "When I'm a grown up, I'm going to live all. by. my. self."

Me: OK, then you can have cookies for breakfast any time you want.

Flynn: Yeah, that's what I was thinking.

Giving Thanks

2008-11-26T09:06:00.003-06:00

Even though I'm feeling under the weather (curse those 6th graders and their coughing), I'm feeling decidedly thankful for the following:

1. My husband and children. I honestly have no idea what my life would be like without them, but I'm certain it wouldn't be nearly as full of love and laughter.

2. That even after 6 and a half years of his being gone, I can still hear my Dad's voice in my head. I can still hear his laugh and I pray to God that I never forget it.

3. That, almost 3 years after his death, I can still hear my father-in-law's cheery "Hallo, everybody!" when I cross the threshold of my mother-in-law's house. Even as cancer was ravaging his body, he was in terrible, almost inconceivable pain and confined to the couch, he would still call out to us as we entered the house. I miss him almost as much as I miss my own dad.

4. I am eternally grateful for my family, those related by blood or marriage and those people to whom I'm close enough to consider family. To have them in my life makes everything better and brighter.

5. My friends. Those of you I know in and outside the realm of the Internet have been there to commiserate with me, lift my spirits, make me laugh, offer advice, inspire me creatively. Thank you. You are each a treasure to me.

6. Books and magazines.

7. Great music.

8. Coffee and tea.

9. Excellent chocolate.

10. My sister-in-law's baking. I will consume many, many more calories than normal over the next few days due mainly in part to Karin's cheesecake.

I wish you all a very Happy Thanksgiving.

Back On The Job

2008-11-24T15:14:00.002-06:00

I submitted my substitute teacher application at my children's school way back in August at the beginning of the school year.

Until today I'd been in the school in a professional capacity for a whopping grand total of a little over an hour.

This morning I rose earlier than I normally do - well before Frank (and the sun) was up in order to shower, make myself presentable, prepare 3 lunches instead of 2, have breakfast and my requisite 2 cups of coffee, get the children up, dressed, fed and out the door before 7:30. I wanted to be a little early to school so I could go over any sub plans the teacher I was filling in for left.

I was with sixth graders today, an age group I have not spent this much time with since I was part of it (a very long time ago). All in all, the day went well in spite of the fact that I had to teach two sections of math (pre-algebra no less). The kids and I muddled our way through some basic equations. I hope I didn't confuse them too much. I'm thankful that over lunch the 8th grade English teacher confided that she, too, has an uneasy relationship with numbers.

My homeroom group consisted of 28 11-year-olds. 28 mostly very talkative and highly charged 11-year-olds. They. never. shut. up. Even when they were supposed to be quiet, some of them were muttering. The kids were, on the whole, very good and helped me with their daily routine. Most of them have siblings that are in either Evan's or Flynn's classes. And I learned something else today: 11-year-old boys cannot keep their collective bottoms in their chairs to save their lives. I don't mind kids getting up and sitting down, but the constant fidgeting was something I found wearing and it was compounded by the fact that they did not have P.E. today.

But I'm a veteran mom and a veteran teacher. I've been there, done that.

And it felt sooooooo good to be in the classroom again.

The Decision

2008-11-23T12:26:00.005-06:00

This was what Flynn wore to the Daddy-Daughter Dance on Friday. She was so excited to have dress shoes that had a little heel on them and she kept wanting to put stuff in her little purse, even though I told her all she really needed was a lip balm (her lips are really dry). I let her wear a little bit of lip stain and a very,very light eye shadow which thrilled her to no end.

She and her Daddy had a fun time at the dance. It is the highlight of Flynn's social calendar and she cannot wait for next year's dance.

This is what I finally decided on wearing to the Jr. League's Festival of Trees Gala: a dress from Old Navy (that I bought Friday afternoon), purple faux-suede shoes from Payless (purchased Saturday morning and they hurt like hell after a few hours of wearing - that's what I get for choosing style over comfort).

Frank and I had a good time chatting with some of his co-workers, we heard an incredibly moving speech from Amy, mom of the adorable Larkin and a sustaining member of Junior League. Her speech almost made me want to join JL it was that inspiring. Dinner was ok - no great shakes (hotel catering has failed to wow me on numerous occasions, this one included) and dessert was underwhelming (a pass-around plate of petit fours & cut up defrosted eclairs) but the company was excellent (Leeanthro, your shoes looked so comfortable and stylish). Frank and I will most likely attend next year and I'll try to remember not to stress out about what to wear.

After the disappointing dessert, Frank said he could go for a slice of cake and wondered if any place was open (it was 10:30). We headed downtown and ended up at Cafe Kopi. They were bereft of cake, but did have cookies and other dessert-type stuffs; I had a couple really yummy coconut macaroons and Frank had an apricot bar then we headed for home so I could take off my shoes.

All in all a good night in spite of my being hobbled by my shoes.

Pretty Friday Music

2008-11-21T08:14:00.002-06:00

A dear friend introduced me to The Bird and The Bee a while back and I've fallen in love with their music. I love Inara George's voice - so pretty. The band describes their music as "A futuristic 1960's American film set in Brazil" and I think that's spot on. This song, Again and Again, from their self-titled album has been floating through my brain for a couple of days and I'm fairly certain you'll find it fluttering through your head, too.

Except for maybe Freak, who will find this too slow for her tastes.

Good Idea/Bad Idea

2008-11-20T15:06:00.002-06:00

Good Idea: Going to the gym.
Bad Idea: Not listening to my body when it said, "Please stop that. You're hurting me."

Good Idea: Continuing the search for something to wear to Saturday night's shindig.
Bad Idea: Walking into Forever 21 and Charlotte Russe. I've never been in either store before and am unlikely to return. Nobody working there greeted me or even acknowledged my presence. I have no idea what Forever 21's sizing is: I tried on a little black dress in a small, which was too tight across the back, so I tried a medium, which was too big. I guess I wear a "smedium". I did find a cute top I could wear to a New Year's party but, again, the sizing was wonky. The same goes for Charlotte Russe. Plus, I think I'm way beyond their demographic. The music, though a nice selection of modern Christmas tunes, was way too loud and hurt my ears. Banana Republic didn't help either as they don't carry petite-sized clothing in their Market Place store. I bought nothing. Looks like I'll resort to my closet and see what I can come up with.

Good Idea: Grocery shopping.
Bad Idea: Grocery shopping when I haven't had lunch.

Good Idea: Just saying "no" to the donut and choosing Emerald's Cocoa Roast almonds.

Bad Idea: Inhaling approximately 3/4 of the container in the car. Those things are crazy addictive.

My American Girl

2008-11-17T11:23:00.004-06:00

A month or so ago I mentioned to Flynn that I thought she'd look very cute with her hair cut short. I told her a chin-length bob would look great on her.

She looked at me like I'd just killed the cat.

So.

Saturday night as she's putting her toothbrush in her mouth, Flynn says, "I want a haircut. I want to look like Kit.*"

* For those of you not in the know, Kit is Kit Kittredge an American Girl doll, and Flynn's favorite.

"Really?" came my surprised reply.

"Yes! Let's do it before I go to school!"

"Um, ok."

Yesterday afternoon we drove over to JC Penney's with my mom to get Flynn a new 'do. Here she is waiting her turn.I gasped audibly as the first 10-inch lock of hair hit the ground. Flynn, as always, watched her stylist like a hawk making sure the haircut went exactly as she wanted. Flynn's so little that her stylist had her stand up so she could get the cut just right (I still had to trim a little when we got home). Then she styled Flynn's new hairdo just right.

Here's Flynn posing with the picture of Kit she brought to show the stylist.
Doesn't she look cute? Flynn LOVES her new haircut and so do I.

Though it did give me pause when one of the first things out of her mouth after "I look just like Kit!" was, "When I get to school K is going to look at me and say 'You look good.'" K is a boy in her class who is in love with her (as are all the boys in her class, but she likes K the best).

They're Gettin' Progressive Down At The Mall

2008-11-15T12:10:00.003-06:00

I'm on a mission to find something to wear to the Jr. League Gala next Saturday so I went to the mall this morning. I failed to find anything interesting or Gala-ish, but did score a button-down shirt, a skirt and a couple of cardigans.

As I was exiting Macy's, I momentarily stopped dead in my tracks because I heard this song over the PA: Why by 80's group The Communards, a band I loved way back in the day (I played the cassette tape I had of this this album until it fell apart and I still have my vinyl copies of extended dance mixes and singles).

I haven't heard this song in ages and certainly never heard it outside my house or circle of friends. It makes me wonder if the person in charge of putting together the music for the mall was being a tad subversive since The Communards were openly gay.

I must have looked quite the idiot as I quietly sung along to this song and tried-not-to-dance-walk my way through the mall with a goofy smile on my face . Other shoppers did give me a wide berth.

The First Degree

2008-11-14T19:01:00.004-06:00

Last night Evan received his first degree black belt.

This is something he's been working towards for a little over three years and required not only the commitment to attending classes two times a week, but in order to pass his test he needed to know his entire form (all 48 moves), half of a past form (23 moves), 2 self-defense moves, create and choreograph a demo set to music (he chose a dance mix of the Star Wars theme and performed it with his friend J, a classmate and fellow black belt), break 2 boards (they're plastic and graduate in difficulty according to a child's age), remember and perform forms for 2 weapons, AND write a one page paper on what he learned on the way to becoming a black belt.

Oh yeah, and keep up with his regular school work.

But Evan rose to the occasion and kicked ass, if I may say so. I think I was more nervous than he was - my hands were shaking during his musical form.He showed off his flying side kicks and broke his boards on the first try. He was so fast, I didn't even get a picture of him breaking the board with a flying side kick. Thankfully, another mom took pictures and is going to e-mail them to me.

Here's my boy with his brand spanking new black belt and his friend. His instructor liked their routine so much she wants them to polish it and perform it in front of their class at school. Evan and J are stoked.

On a side note, as a reward for sticking with Tae Kwondo when there were times he wanted to quit and for earning his black belt, Frank and I gave Evan a Nintendo DS (he's been saving his money to buy one for two years, I think). He was very surprised at first when he saw the box then he started jumping up and down.

And now I can't tell which makes him happier; the black belt or the gaming system.

Another Theology Question

2008-11-12T11:22:00.005-06:00

Before settling down to sleep last night Flynn asked how many days until Christmas. When I told her she exclaimed, "45 days until God's birthday!" Then she ruefully added, "How many will He be?"

As in, how old is God.

I told her I didn't know the answer and that was a good question to ask one of our parish priests next time they came to her classroom.

I wonder what his reply will be and if our priests will start cringing every time my children want to ask them a question. Evan still hasn't gotten an answer regarding his query.

(I happen to like these questions. I want my kids to be able to inquire and educate themselves, even if those questions may seem weird or silly. It shows me that Evan and Flynn are using their brains and not just following blindly; that they are creative thinkers. I don't want that individualism quashed. I encourage it.)

My Black Belt Boy

2008-11-12T08:32:00.001-06:00

Last Night

2008-11-10T08:29:00.002-06:00

How to sing like a 5-year-old:

1. Expand your song repertoire of Hannah Montana and Jonas Brothers to include old standards like "Take Me Out To The Ball Game".

2. Sing the following lyrics:
Take me out to the ball game
Take me out with the crowd
Take me out to the ball game
Take me out to the ball game
Take me out to the ball game
'Cause it's 1,2,3 strike you're out
At the old ball game!

3. If at all possible, stand on the second floor landing in your house to sing. It offers better acoustics.

4. Sing as loud as you can. This is important.

5. Repeat steps 1-4 over and over and over.

*********
Before my son drifted off to sleep last night, he looked at me and asked, "Mom, is there a cure for the plague?" then without skipping a beat made an "OK" sign with his fingers, put them up to his eye and asked, "Can you see my fingers?"

Yeah, I don't know where that came from either.

*********
My husband and I take turns getting the kids to sleep. Sunday is traditionally his day to take Flynn to bed. We sit with our children until they fall asleep (don't judge and don't tell me we made a bad parenting choice - it works for us so back off).

Flynn fell asleep pretty quickly and I saw Frank leave her room (Evan and I were reading an Eoin Colfer book). Not too many minutes later, Flynn came in and somewhat demanded "Where's Daddy?" I escorted her back across the hall and told her Daddy was in the shower. As we entered her room she gestured to the spot on her bed where Frank had been sitting and said, "See? No Daddy! I was not all the way asleep when he left my room." She was kind of p.o.'d that her father dared leave her awake but settled down and was soon fast asleep.

*******

I'll just say that watching Death Proof has confirmed my belief that Quentin Tarantino is one strange bird who would probably benefit from some therapy.

Frank's review? "Well, that was disturbing."

And I think it was about an hour too long but Kurt Russell does a good creepy.

"La La La Can Only Take You So Far"

2008-11-07T19:08:00.002-06:00

Sarah posted this today and I thought I, too, would share this kooky amazingly cool song by The Bedroom Philosopher. It made me smile and I hope it makes you smile as well. Please enjoy.

I Don't Have The Words

2008-11-05T11:51:00.004-06:00

Words are evading me right now. I'm a jumble of giddy excitement.

Yesterday the people of this country made history; history we can be proud of.

My friend Denise forwarded me the following message from Michael Moore, so I'm going to reproduce it here:

Friends,

Who among us is not at a loss for words? Tears pour out. Tears of joy. Tears of relief. A stunning, whopping landslide of hope in a time of deep despair.

In a nation that was founded on genocide and then built on the backs of slaves, it was an unexpected moment, shocking in its simplicity: Barack Obama, a good man, a black man, said he would bring change to Washington, and the majority of the country liked that idea. The racists were present throughout the campaign and in the voting booth. But they are no longer the majority, and we will see their flame of hate fizzle out in our lifetime.

There was another important "first" last night. Never before in our history has an avowed anti-war candidate been elected president during a time of war. I hope President-elect Obama remembers that as he considers expanding the war in Afghanistan. The faith we now have will be lost if he forgets the main issue on which he beat his fellow Dems in the primaries and then a great war hero in the general election: The people of America are tired of war. Sick and tired. And their voice was loud and clear yesterday.

It's been an inexcusable 44 years since a Democrat running for president has received even just 51% of the vote. That's because most Americans haven't really liked the Democrats. They see them as rarely having the guts to get the job done or stand up for the working people they say they support. Well, here's their chance. It has been handed to them, via the voting public, in the form of a man who is not a party hack, not a set-for-life Beltway bureaucrat. Will he now become one of them, or will he force them to be more like him? We pray for the latter.

But today we celebrate this triumph of decency over personal attack, of peace over war, of intelligence over a belief that Adam and Eve rode around on dinosaurs just 6,000 years ago. What will it be like to have a smart president? Science, banished for eight years, will return. Imagine supporting our country's greatest minds as they seek to cure illness, discover new forms of energy, and work to save the planet. I know, pinch me.

We may, just possibly, also see a time of refreshing openness, enlightenment and creativity. The arts and the artists will not be seen as the enemy. Perhaps art will be explored in order to discover the greater truths. When FDR was ushered in with his landslide in 1932, what followed was Frank Capra and Preston Sturgis, Woody Guthrie and John Steinbeck, Dorothea Lange and Orson Welles. All week long I have been inundated with media asking me, "gee, Mike, what will you do now that Bush is gone?" Are they kidding? What will it be like to work and create in an environment that nurtures and supports film and the arts, science and invention, and the freedom to be whatever you want to be? Watch a thousand flowers bloom! We've entered a new era, and if I could sum up our collective first thought of this new era, it is this: Anything Is Possible.

An African American has been elected President of the United States! Anything is possible! We can wrestle our economy out of the hands of the reckless rich and return it to the people. Anything is possible! Every citizen can be guaranteed health care. Anything is possible! We can stop melting the polar ice caps. Anything is possible! Those who have committed war crimes will be brought to justice. Anything is possible.

We really don't have much time. There is big work to do. But this is the week for all of us to revel in this great moment. Be humble about it. Do not treat the Republicans in your life the way they have treated you the past eight years. Show them the grace and goodness that Barack Obama exuded throughout the campaign. Though called every name in the book, he refused to lower himself to the gutter and sling the mud back. Can we follow his example? I know, it will be hard.

I want to thank everyone who gave of their time and resources to make this victory happen. It's been a long road, and huge damage has been done to this great country, not to mention to many of you who have lost your jobs, gone bankrupt from medical bills, or suffered through a loved one being shipped off to Iraq. We will now work to repair this damage, and it won't be easy.

But what a way to start! Barack Hussein Obama, the 44th President of the United States. Wow. Seriously, wow.

The Kitty and The Jawa, Halloween '08

2008-11-01T10:32:00.000-05:00

She's The Best

2008-10-29T15:07:00.003-05:00

This was taken in 1973. The old man is my dad's old man, my Grandpa Fred. The curly-headed toddler is my cousin Amy and the cute baby in the picture is my sister, Katy (I'm above her rocking my crooked haircut by mom). We're on the stairs of my grandparents' house in Cincinnati sharing a box of raisins but the back of the photo claims it's Christmas.

Looking at this picture reminds me of how much I adore my sister. We've been through the shit together and no body knows me better than she does. Of course we've had our disagreements over the years, what siblings don't? But I can't recall any argument of note past 1985 when she yelled at me not to stretch out her shoes.

My sister is an amazing mother, wife, teacher and friend. Katy is one of the most thoughtful people I know. She's beautiful and vivacious and bubbly and can talk to anybody about pretty much anything - something I'm not good at at all. I honestly don't know who I'd be without her presence in my life, but I can hazard a guess that I wouldn't be very much fun to be around.

I love her with all my heart.

And I wish her the happiest of birthdays today.

Soup's On!

2008-10-26T16:12:00.002-05:00

It's a bright, sunny, yet blustery day today. I love it. Fall is my favorite season and what's not to love? Mulled apple cider, that crisp fresh smell in the air, cooler weather necessitating the wearing of jackets and sweaters (though Flynn is still trying to convince me it's not too cold to wear sandals and halter dresses), piling blankets on beds and breaking out the down comforters in anticipation of even colder nights, hot filling meals.

Today was perfect for heading to our beloved, out-of-the-way pumpkin patch. Frank had ideas of making a Death Star pumpkin this year in addition to the traditional kitty cat and bat. It's a good thing I decided to call my sister to chat before we left because she told me, "Don't go. They're out of pumpkins. They had a lousy crop this year and were short something like 20 truckloads."

What? How could the pumpkin patch be out of pumpkins? So with spirits deflated we decided to get our pumpkins at our local grocery. Not exactly the fun I had envisioned today. But it did give me the opportunity to pick up the ingredients I needed for tonight's dinner: veggie soup.

So this afternoon while Frank took the kids out to hawk Boy Scout popcorn, I made my favorite veggie soup from a recipe out of my head involving carrots, white onions, crushed tomatoes, garlic, cabbage, lots of low sodium V-8 juice as the basis for the broth and canned chick peas thrown in at the last minute.I usually play around with the amount of ingredients until I get the consistency I like. Today I used a purple cabbage just because I thought it would be fun. I really like the way it colored the broth - making it a deeper, richer red than it is normally - and the onions, which turned a pretty lavender.

Of course when it was finished I could not wait to have a wee taste.So, so good! Especially with a dash of hot sauce.

Just the thing to hit the spot on this, or any, chilly day.

The Great Compromiser

2008-10-24T16:29:00.003-05:00

The ride home from school today was filled with discussion on who I had voted for and why.

That's right, I voted today to beat the rush. Mine was the 689th ballot cast in my ballot-holding-machine-thingy at the County Clerk's office.

Anyhoo, the school my children attend is holding a mock election on Nov. 4th. Evan says he's voting for "Barry O'Vama." Flynn immediately took a contrary position until she found out that I'd also voted for "Barry".

Trying to put my reasoning for voting for the person I voted for into words and concepts my 7- and 5-year-old could understand without sounding jaded, cynical and (more than) slightly bitter was a daunting task. I told them that most of the ideas that Senator McCain has are ideas and beliefs I don't share and I'm more in harmony with Senator Obama's ideas. And while my kids tried to paint McCain as a bad person, I tried to tell them that Sen. McCain is not actually bad, he's a good man but he's just not the right choice to be president.

I couldn't tell them how disgusted I am with our current president and that Sen. McCain's presidency would mean more of the same; that the United States is currently a corporate state thanks very much to Mr. Bush and his greedy cronies. I also didn't mention McCain's running mate.

I did tell them that Senator Obama would change things for the better; that the thought of his presidency makes me hopeful for a better future for them; that Sen. Obama is fired up and his energy is infectious.

After this, Evan was silent for a bit then said, "Why don't they just work together?"

I couldn't answer him. Who knows? Maybe they will. Maybe they'll think like a 7-year-old.

Behold, The Brownie!

2008-10-23T18:39:00.003-05:00

Last night and most of today I was in desperate need of a rich, fudge-y brownie. I perused my copy of Veganomicon and, sadly, did not find a brownie recipe (though I'll make that chocolate bundt cake someday soon).

This morning, I went online and found this recipe. After reading some reviews I made some adjustments: substituting raw sugar for white, chocolate soy milk for water (I was tempted to use almond milk or coffee), and halved the oil replacing the other 1/2 c. with cinnamon applesauce. The recipe came together very easily and the tempting smell of baking brownies filled the house well within 20 minutes.

The result is this:

And because I'm in a Mexican chocolate kind of mood, I dusted the top of the brownies with a mixture of cinnamon and confectioner's sugar.

The brownie itself is a little cakey in texture and that may be because of the applesauce and is very chocolaty, like a brownie should be, but in a healthier form and paired well with vanilla ice cream (no, I didn't make it) and a slice of orange.

Both Evan and Flynn declared the brownies a success with a full-mouthed "Yum!"

Yes, Sir, That's My Boy

2008-10-20T16:35:00.002-05:00

One of Evan's spelling words this week is "who."

Me: "Evan, spell the word 'who'."

Evan: "What, like Dr. Who?"

I'm so proud of my nerdy boy.

12 Years Ago Today

2008-10-19T11:37:00.004-05:00

Frank and I were married.

We recently remarked to each other that getting married was the easiest decision we've ever made.

The same goes for staying that way.

Twelve years is a drop in the bucket.

Because I'm In An 80's Kind Of Mood

2008-10-17T12:46:00.001-05:00

Whip out your peg-legged jeans, black loafers and white socks everybody. It's the lovely Housemartins with their classic, Happy Hour.

Enjoy!

Theology for Dinos

2008-10-16T14:54:00.002-05:00

Tuesday one of our parish priests came to talk to Evan's class. I'm not sure what the topic of conversation was but my son asked Father the following question, "Do plant eaters go to heaven and meat eaters go to hell?"

Evan didn't specify dinosaurs, but I know how my son's mind works (most of the time).

Without missing a beat Father's responded, "I don't know. I'll have to think about it and get back to you."

It's slightly disturbing that my son is concerned for the souls of species long extinct yet has no qualms about torturing a 5-year-old boy.