just babbling

well I guess I should just babble a bit since it's been OVER A MONTH since my last post. This having a senior in High School thing is quite demanding - even if she does the bulk of the driving -- work has been pretty demanding, well demanding is a bit strong, but busy, definitely busy - we just hop from event to event without much break in between to recover from the last. My office is a complete explosion - today is clean the office day and tie up lots of loose ends. Trying to some degree to get ready for the holiday - not really in the spirit (I never am till the last minute though). I have had the Cold from hell for TWO freakin weeks -- I never get this sick, or stay this sick, or even for that matter stay sick this long -- and every day it's a different aspect that is center stage, stayed up coughing in the middle of the night, so today is the sore throat (scratchy from coughing, not swollen glands, though that was the first day or two). Football season turned out wonderfully - they went to the playoffs, we had a road trip over to the other side of the continental divide for playoff football, that was fun! Got to know some of the football parents in a new way, travelling together always reveals some things you didn't know before (like which mom's have been sneaking booze into the games - hey I'm not one of them, and which mom's are flirts, and which dad's are p.w., and which parents baby their boys, etc.) -- my dancer hasn't danced in weeks, poor thing has a stress fracture - she can swim though. Both daughters are swimming, have had two meets, it's been pretty good - though oldest daughter lost her class ring at the meet this weekend. The boy isn't pitching, he has the equivalent of osgood schlatter (sp?) in his elbow, taking off til after the first of the year to rest it. He is working out for baseball on other stuff, and lifting in the weight room. Husband is busy with work, that is a good thing - even though people who don't know what he sells are bitching about any winter weather at all (which we honestly have barely had a taste of). Talked to my "sister" in France -- found out she hurt herself this summer far worse than I thought from her email (her English is not great) -- apparently she fell and hit her head on a rock and was in a coma for a few days -- in the hospital for over a month, then home for over a month, still couldn't do anything for the tremendous dizziness, so she went back to the hospital to have all those little tiny bones inside of her ear "re-built" -- she is finally back to work in November from an accident in July!!! I can't imagine having those little bones "re-built" -- and the thick French accent on "zose tiney leeetle bones" was a bit amusing in it's way also. I'm regretting my big idea of volunteering for a huge thing at school to make up for blowing off and only taking baked goods for a couple of years -- WAAAAAAAYYYYYYYYYYY TOOOOOOOOO MANY POLITICS! These women who had me convinced they were all reasonable logical normal people have slowly shown themselves to be a whole new version of "graham cracker moms". Well that's about all I've got that's light hearted, maybe now that I've got the light hearted stuff out of the way I can post some 'meaty' stuff in the days to come.

The View...

and no, not the silly show with those women who make every effort to be more and more obnoxious than another host each day (ps. I used to really like the show, however... well this is a meme and so that's for another day)

no "the view" from my blogging "window" -- I've been tagged by Jen over at 'Never a Dull Moment' -- to post what is 'outside my blogging window' -- whoever started this meme clearly assumes everyone has a blogging window -- I think this is a broad assumption, though, I've always had a window since I've had this blog - this being Colorado, where we shrivel up and die without sunshine, this isn't that big of a surprise. In fact, windows are a very big deal here -- people who want to appear to be 'green' (a new term, here in Colorado as far back as the 70's (those are my earliest memories) actually referred to it as being a 'tree hugger' - and with some pride even if you were from Denver and drove a huge gas hog of a car all around the city buying gasoline for your hideously inefficient outdoor playtime toys - have always justified all that glass by referring to it as "passive solar" -- which usually means that your house gets cold at night and on cloudy days and you have to heat it with less efficiency - and it gets so freakin hot in the summer that you absolutely must use air conditioning or you will actually bake your pets and your plants.

I used to have a view from the 16th floor of a downtown denver window - it looked out on 17th Street and I could see Long's Peak. From home - where I seldom ever blog, I look out my living room window across the street at my neighbors house - not exactly a spectacular view -- but nothing bad either, just a typical suburban view -- well unless you count when the little brats from the local juvenile delinquency facility (read junior high) are walking down the street smoking, sometimes even pot, and making out with their butts hanging outta their pants and their potty mouths shouting stuff to another kid - ugh! Now of course I have this amazing job working for a non-profit organization that I LOVE, because every day is interesting and everything I do, even the mundane like filing, is helping someone somewhere! -- anyhow, along with less that spectacular pay, comes less than spectacular accomodations -- we pride ourselves that we spend less than 10% of our total budget on administration -- this means that if you give us $100 - $90 goes to patients or research!!! -- and administration includes things like salary (remember the less than spectacular pay), office space (donated), office supplies (often donated), equipment expenses (servicing the copier), telephone, electricity, internet, postage, etc. -- in fact anything that can't be charged to an event or a program. Well the view from our donated office space is so wonderful that there is one office without a window -- and the boss took that office and gave me the window office -- don't be impressed!...

picture coming soon -- having trouble with the cell phone picture thingy, ugh

Yes... that is a dumpster, isn't it great!?! Strangely, I have NEVER seen it being emptied by the trash company, but it does indeed get emptied. And yes, those are weeds -- better yet when it rains/snows, the parking lot doesn't drain, so I get a view of dumpster in standing water -- so nice when you are thinking about west nile virus.

Don't get me wrong, because the benefits of working here far outweigh the view -- and my window has blinds, so generally I just ignore the outside world and work -- I've usually had my back to any windows I've had anyhow, so as long as the sunshine is there, I won't shrivel up and I can enjoy my day in other ways.

Now, if you've been over to Jen's pictures from her Kitchen (of Long's Peak) -- be assured that I can see Long's Peak every day as I leave my house and as I return home -- I live on a hill and I look out over the front range everytime I look west (I just don't blog looking west) -- I can also usually see Mt. Evans, and often Pike's Peak -- and there is nothing that rivals the beauty of the Front Range spread out before you -- I've lived here all my life and it still takes my breath away, probably as frequently as once per week. In fact the very day that Jen took her picture of Long's Peak, the view of it took my breath away, the snow was glowing in the morning sun and the Flat Irons were jutting up in front of it above Boulder and my daughter and I came up over the hill and just gasped at the beauty!

Thursday Thirteen - 7th Dirty Story

7. This feels like the right story at the right time – (remember I said I had 13 of these, well I do, but I only wrote the first 6 and then just named the other seven, so they are being written “real time”.

My darling daughters share a room – it hasn’t always been that way, before they all had big girl and big boy beds (you know we still had cribs and/or toddler beds) – we varied the combinations around. But once the youngest had a “big girl” bed, we figured it was time to think about gender and we put both girls in one room together. Well the bedrooms in our house are not what you would call ‘huge’ in fact they are on the small side (not compared with what we had growing up, but still, small for two beds, two dressers, etc.). So we had these two twin beds in this room and dressers, etc. And it was really just too darn crowded once they began to accumulate stuff of their own. So we determined it was time for bunk beds – and they easily agreed on who should be on top and who on bottom – so this made life easy – but… youngest wanted bottom, but she didn’t like being completely under her sister – it made her feel “claustrophobic”, so we put the beds in an L shape of sorts, because these beds were designed so that you could do that. The top bed went North-South and the bottom bed went East-West. Well this created this wonderful little cubby area that was under older sisters feet, but not really “out in the room” – this was really great for youngest, it was like her very OWN space and she loved it – I seem to remember we had a desk in there, but I don’t know exactly how or what.

Anyhow, everyone is sound asleep, husband and I are going off to bed, and of course he has always been able to fall asleep in about 12 seconds, whereas I lay there a little while and then fall asleep – well… as usual, I was half-asleep and he was snoring (loudly – and no that’s not why I don’t fall asleep – I will write a post someday on my secret hatred for the sleep apnea machine – IT’S TOO QUIET), and I hear this faint little “mommy” – no maybe I didn’t hear anything… wait there it is again, maybe louder – and then… “M.O.M.M.Y.!!!! D.A.D.D.Y.!!!”, very loud, unmistakable – youngest is freaking. We jump out of bed and run in there… and oldest is leaned over her bunk bed wretching, and youngest is sitting up just barely out of the line of fire screaming her head off… older sister didn’t want to puke in her own bed, so she leaned over and puked all over her sister. Well of course I’m thinking about clean-up immediately, and thus far the mess is completely contained on youngest’s comforter – so I begin telling her not to move… I am so mean, here she is trapped under a lake of vomit and I won’t allow her to move, lest she disrupt the nice levees her legs under the covers have created. Husband has gone for a ‘puke bowl’ and youngest is now yelling at her sister “puke in your own bed” – and I’m saying ‘no, no, this one is already dirty’ – but she is a voluminous vomiter and has already gotten to dry heaves, so really it is academic at this point. Now son is awake, standing in doorway laughing at all of us – of course – he isn’t puking, puked on, or about to clean up puke – so it’s all good in his world (he will get his though, oh yes he will get his). Once the bowl was safely under the oldest, I scooped up the comforter, headed for the laundry room and let husband comfort the youngest who was completely traumatized by the whole thing. I still have not lived it down – I frequently get the “but mommy, you have a carpet cleaning machine, you could have just shampooed the carpet and let me out”.

Not an especially dirty story, after all, but timely none the less… my girls still share a room, still have bunk beds (in the usual configuration now – youngest wasn’t about to expose her legs to her sister after that), and actually they still vomit occasionally – however I can tell you now that they don’t wait for mom and dad – the sick one will wake the other and they are remarkably fast at getting to the kitchen for the bowl for the other sister. In fact, they don’t even wake us anymore – youngest was barfing last week, and we only knew because we saw the bowl in her bed – “hey what’s with the barf bowl in your bed” – “oh I threw up last night, my sister cleaned it up for me” – so those of you who think you can’t possibly follow your children around forever cleaning up after them – keep in mind that they do eventually begin to take care of themselves and it is sad and exhilarating all at once.

my weekend

Well this was Harvest Festival weekend - which is sort of a big deal in a "farming" town - not that we are much of a farming town anymore - really more of a suburb of Denver, and most folks in town haven't ever mucked out a stall or chopped wood or gotten up early to feed critters but none the less we hang on to a few of our 'farming' roots - including the harvest festival. Well our Harvest festival is very much about the booths and the food and the carnival - there is also a parade on Saturday morning, and all the girl/boy scouts and marching bands and politicians and 4-H kids and classic car clubs turn out to show their stuff. After the parade there is usually a duck race down the creek (pronounced crik) where gold was first discovered in our town. You buy a duck from the Rotary for $5 (I think you can get 5 for $20?) and the money supports their scholarship fund. After hundreds, I mean hundreds of rubber ducks have been sold they dump them all in the bucket of a bulldozer - for those who know - the bucket on a regular sized bulldozer is darn big, so there are really a lot of ducks, they nearly fill the bucket. They dump the ducks into the creek and we all run down the banks of the creek watching the little ducks go - they get caught up in eddies and branches and behind rocks and they run over each other and around each other and it is so fun to watch them go down the creek - and of course the numbers are on the bottom so you have no idea at all which one is yours. They go down the creek for about 1/2 mile and then the Rotary has this wonderful thing some clever person built that catches ALL (okay one or two slip by, but nearly all) the ducks and it catches the first eight or ten in single file (it's shaped kinda like a Y as wide as the creek and then the leg of the Y holds ducks single file) - and of course that is how the winner is determined. We have never won - we don't care - duck race is absolutely the most fun of the day. So - The oldest had to work - well she was supposed to work at night, but a girl actually asked her to trade shifts for the morning shift which she gladly took (for reasons I will explain later), and the boy had a football game, so he and husband went to football - because I was not about to miss the duck race for a football game my boy was NOT playing in. So youngest and I packed up a cooler with some drinks, grabbed the Jelly, some hats, some cash and took off for the Duck Race. No Freakin Duck Race - I drove around the creek three times looking to see if they moved it up or down stream - no race - I'm so disappointed and well pissed off - I'm going to the next Rotary meeting to raise a stink actually! So then we went "downtown" - you know 3 blocks from the creek - and found a parking space and headed for the "catholic" school gymnasium. Why no one actually calls it by it's name is sort of beyond me, even the good little catholic girls that my daughter played softball with that attend school there don't call it by it's name - anyhow, it's the perfect location based on the rest of the events for them to hold the "food fair". Yes a real true old-fashioned food fair (hence the aforementioned 'jelly'). You can enter Garden vegetables that are abnormally large or weird looking - or on the other side of the gym (small town, small school, small gym, it's not so far to the other side) there is the canned fruit, canned veggies, pickles, salsa, jelly, jam, cake, pie, cookies, yeast bread, quick bread contests. My daughter entered her elderberry jelly. Well actually youngest and I took it in, because oldest was at work - but she had gladly changed shifts because prizes are awarded at 2:30 - and she would get off at 2:30 instead of starting her shift at 2:30 so she could possibly be there in time to get her prize. There were 7 jars of jelly in the jelly category - and she won 3rd place!! Now for anyone who actually knows what elderberries are - you are probably thinking ewwwwwwwww elderberry jelly? For anyone who actually knows what elderberry jelly is, you are probably thinking "holy crap that's way too much work". It is wonderful jelly, really delicious and wonderful. But the nature of elderberries makes it two to three times as much work as other varieties of jelly - for a bunch of crazy reasons. So that she won third place tells me that the judges actually knew that it is a bitch to get it to set and not turn to rubber, it's really really difficult - way more than other jellies. I'm a jam person myself, I have no patience for that dripping bag and that skimming the foam crap - let me cook up a big old pot of fruit and sugar and ladle it into jars any day - much much easier. Well then, after all that - we went on home had some supper - got back together as a family and went back for the carnival (much more fun at night you know) and it's all about being seen and seeing others anyhow. Amazingly - first year in ages - all three of our kids stayed with us. In part because we had the $$ (but they know we would have handed them some and let them run off if they asked), and in part because in spite of inviting lots of friends (most of their friends do NOT live in our town because they don't go to school in our town) none of them had a friend come with them. So, my eldest, she really doesn't like carnivals, and she was missing her boyfriend, and she had worked early so she was tired - she really only went for the funnel cake - and she almost has no friends from our town anymore, and certainly none that would go to the festival - though she isn't - they are all emo/punk and way too cool for something like that. Son has played almost all of his sports in the next town over or for school, so except for one year that he played sports in our town and a few friends left from elementary school (which also isn't in our town, but had a few more kids from our town than the high school) he doesn't have a lot of town friends either. Now youngest, played softball in our town (eldest did too, but quit so long ago it's hard to remember), dances in our town, for some reason has a lot more elementary school friends from our town and actually has some high school friends from our town... so she was sure she would just run into friends -- no go. But the boy ran into about 20 friends - and never once wanted to take off with them - he stayed with us. And he was delightful to his sisters - and they were delightful to him. It was so much fun - none of us rode any rides, but we shot at targets (I did pretty well but didn't win), and the boy and the youngest tried to break beer bottles with baseballs - the boy won that and all the little kids standing around were saying "wow, he should be a pitcher" -- tee hee, he is a pitcher. And then we had our funnel cake, listened to a little of the rock band in the park and went home - it was sort of a quiet night at the fair? Damn that funnel cake was good though!

Sunday is boring so nevermind - this isn't "my weekend" it's my saturday.

fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck

I just sent an email to a teacher without "signing" it -- and in fact... it's more complicated than that. You see my daughter (the senior) specifically requested that we say something "smartassed" in her yearbook - can you believe the little stinker - all the other mommies and daddies are writing things like "You have always been a blessing and seeing the lovely young woman you have become makes us shiver all over with appreciation to the Lord for the blessings he gave us when he brought you into our lives, Praise Jesus for you - you will be the best college student ever because you are amazing and beautiful and and and... " But no, we get a request for "smartassed" - which actually now that I re-read the above example - at least in our family - would clearly qualify as smartassed, but she would also disown us - even though we will be paying for college. So this email was to the yearbook teacher, and it was:

Ms. Yearbook teacher; thank you for your help with this, attached is the picture we discussed of daughter and the sentiment we would like is:

blah blah mushy blah blah reference to favorite hippy song blah blah reference to baby song blah blah

ps. We couldn't decide between a car and a computer for graduation - but then we thought about a vacation... we will call you when we get to Bermuda, please feed the dogs!

now... I'm afraid that Ms. Yearbook teacher (who is foreign by the way, and actually does not have great English) might think the ps. is for her!!! and not include it in the yearbook - and it is actually the specifically requested smartassed part of it - which is of course altogether or more important than the mushy blah blah -- so do I write back - or do I resend the sent message but finish it this time? Adding some paragraph to make clear where the sentiment ends? I'm all a twitter at the possibility that I just fucked up the damn thing and husband and I fought about it for three days - because you see...

He sang to her in-utero (he sang to all the kids in-utero) and so did I. But we sang different songs - now... I know my memory has gone to hell in a handbasket, but... (btw, wouldn't a handbasket just ignite and burn up the minute it reached hell?) I. KNOW. FOR. A. FACT. that he sang "Somewhere Out There" from American Tale to her until she was about 2 years old and requested that he change her song to "Goodnight Sweetheart" - he swears it was never "Somewhere Out There" and always "Goodnight Sweetheart" (maybe I should remind him that he was certain she was a boy til she popped out). And then when she was about 8, she wanted another change, but he wouldn't comply, he told her that "Feelin Groovy" was his song to himself and she couldn't have it. I never changed songs by the way, always "Wouldn't It Be Loverly" - anyhow, the two songs that we referenced are BOTH HIS - and mine just would not fit in - also, we debated and debated as to just how much of "Feelin Groovy" was going to make the cut - because we feel differently about a specific line - he thinks "morning" represents youth, and I think "morning" sounds dumb and should be "moment" and I didn't want to "limit" the sentiment by using "morning". Now I get that "morning" can represent "youth" - but he didn't say that until after we had argued about it for 30 minutes - UGH men! - and then once he said it I was so frustrated that it took a few hours for it to sink in and then I was okay with it.

Anyhow isn't this all so stupid, - but looking at baby pictures of the kids last night to choose the one to go with - OMG we made BEAUTIFUL babies - WOW! and We laughed our asses off at how silly they all were. I found about a bazillion to stick on her "senior collage" - do all schools do all this silly sappy shit or is ours just over the top on this the way it is with other things - we have... senior quote in yearbook (supposed to be selected by senior, but you can tell by reading them that some of the heli-moms are "helping"); sentiment from family with baby picture (or multiple if you want to pay more $$ ($35/each); senior bricks; senior collages; speeches from mom and dad at senior picnic or baccalaureate or something; baccalaureate (which is apparently very religious - as in gentile religious, so I'll be seeing if the ____berg's are going to participate before we make a decision - our senior has already said she has no desire to participate); graduation; and then regularly scheduled senior/parent meetings about "senior issues" - this first one was about college admissions - and that makes sense - and I know that one of them is baccalaureate planning - and I know that some of them are for announcements - which when I was in school was all about the kids and the parents were surprised when they saw what we chose... I'm so confused, lol. When I was in school our senior activities consisted of Keggers (no parents), class picture (aerial on the football field), more keggers (no parents), stop by the table and vote on announcements one day, check the spelling of your name another day, more keggers, ditch day (which included a kegger), graduation rehearsal (again, more beer), and graduation - woohoo the hard stuff, champagne popping out from under gowns and being passed up and down the rows, oh yeah, and more beer, and sometimes parents joined in this beer fun - did I forget any senior activities Moosema? (we were seniors together - but I don't think she drank as much as me, so she might remember something I don't)

flufferwhat?

I was reading a post by Karly over at Wiping up Snot – or maybe it was her guest post – anyhow, she said something about a fluffernutter sandwich – now I have heard this before – but really never knew what it was – so I confessed my ignorance to her and she wrote me back – actually making a derogatory comment about one of my favorite sandwiches – I think she said she thought she might hurl – I like Peanut Butter and Mayo (with lettuce when available). Apparently, for anyone else as ignorant as me (I think it might be geographic, but that is still somewhat unclear) – fluffernutter is peanut butter and marshmallow “fluff”. And in New England there is a brand of fluff called “fluff” that is the very best – if fluff is the same as the Kraft Marshmallow Cream that we use here for fudge – and by “we”, I mean those of us who refuse to stand over a pot of boiling sugar and butter with a thermometer rising up to the atmosphere of Hell and instead of timing the nasty goo religiously with a clock with a second hand – btw… I find it ironic that nearly everything that is a “holiday treat” requires you actually have a clock with a second hand – my children cannot read clocks with hands (well not easily or well) but they can time the hell outta pizzelles or fudge with the second hand, lol. I know that ‘candy’ making fudge people look down their noses at us marshmallow cream fudgers – but, my fudge is always the first one gone on a buffet so pfffffft!

Okay well anyhow, if “fluff” is the same as that nasty crap that I put in the fudge, I could just hurl – so I guess Karly and I are even in that regard. I can’t imagine why anyone would want to combine the joys of fresh bread and peanut butter with nasty nuclear waste sugar – and I suspect she thinks of mayo as greasy nastiness or something equally as unappetizing.

But this brings me to another thought – and then I signed into my blog and remembered that I wrote about puke yesterday – so this is like a segue between puke and um… puke.

I love to tell stories on my children, and occasionally strangers – geez I wish I had voice recognition typing in my car – I wrote the best post last week in the car about inconsiderate bitches and bastards that leave shopping carts all about the parking lot among other transgressions – of course I was driving so I was just “writing” out loud to myself, and it will never come out the same on “paper” as that original artwork! Anyhow, time for a story on me – I suppose it would work as a ‘dirtiest’ story – but what the hell, we’ll just stick it in as a Friday – don’t celebrate the weekend this way!

We were at the lodge – the one mentioned previously in fish gut stew post and again after that in the “I splashed the sheriff but I didn’t get the deputy” post. The kids were very small, in fact, even in my slightly drunken stupor – I remember being concerned about their safety while roasting marshmallows – and asked my much more sober husband to keep a very close eye on them – and to definitely not let them fling the flaming balls of sugary goo into the faces of all the drunks sitting around “supervising”. The other questionable decision I made was to actually consume the beautiful wonderful snacks that my darling babies had made “just for me” even though they contained one of the most hideous “food” products hidden away in the pantries of most Americans (I doubt that people in any other part of the world would even consider putting that crap in their mouth! – note to self google marshmallows in the rest of the world). And I didn’t just consume one or two ‘smores’ – NO, my babies loved me a lot that night, and they just kept making me samples of their sugary love – and the little turds wouldn’t even turn back to lighting sugar on a stick on fire one more time til I took a bite – so though I managed to ditch a few of them in the garbage, I pretty much was forced to consume them.

Well here is an interesting scientific fact – marshmallows and copious amounts of beer do not actually complement each other when combined gastronomically – and in fact, as we all know ‘fresh’ marshmallows (do they ever really get stale???) float when thrown in a lake (or cup of hot chocolate)… well that floating quality does not cease with partial digestion, and in fact flufferbeer puke floats well in the lake also. It does not however clean up very well off of carpet – and like the lake, it floats in the toilet, which by the way, will cause you to hurl again – because it’s oh so lovely to see your puke floating inches from your bloodshot eyeballs. This particular weekend, the hostess saw fit to give us the rooms on the third floor, so by the time we climbed up to the lodge from the beach and then up all those flights of stairs to the lovely little tiny 1930’s bathroom – I frankly thought I may die at the lodge – if not from the flufferbeer rock and roll party in my stomach, then surely from the embarrassment of vomiting all that loving gooiness right into the lake in front of my sweet babies.

So… while I have never really liked marshmallows anyhow, not even as a kid – I really only like them in fruit salad – the idea of a ‘fluffernutter’ sandwich could just be my next diet tool. I think I will find pictures of them and post it on my refrigerator. Maybe pictures of big fat nasty rude people who leave their shopping carts in the middle of the fucking aisle two spaces from the corral after they’ve bought a huge jar of ‘fluff’ and are headed home to binge themselves on the nasty goo.

it's Thursday - another dirty story (#6)

Ah… more inspiration – puke. Oh do we have puke stories.

Puke after field trip… You know when you chaperone the field trip, and the teacher, out of some serious malevolent sadistic moment of revenge (maybe you forgot to make non-chocolate cupcakes for the last birthday, or you questioned her about your kids handwriting on a particularly stressful day) gives you the group with THE KID. Oh yeah, my kids went to a ‘choice’ school, which in part means that you “choose” to chaperone lots of field trips because they need drivers as buses are not in the budget for schools that get 70% ppor (if you need to know about ppor, just ask).

You know that kid… in my oldest daughters class it was a kid named C – he was adorable, and I liked him actually. Funny, didn’t have to be perfect in front of him, could slip and blaspheme or maybe even mutter an expletive when I slammed the trunk on my hand trying to stow 42 more lunches, could even listen to regular rock music and he never bitched that my car smelled like cigarettes. In my youngest daughters class it was C’s younger brother… M. M was even cuter than C with these huge mischievious blue eyes and a little dimply grin that would charm Mother Theresa into letting him TP the Vatican. M also had the same endearing qualities that his brother had – with regard to the music and the vocabularly choices and even the stinky-assed car. They were both monsters however, and most mom’s would NOT chaperone them more than once, so while I accuse the teacher’s of malevolence, I think it was also convenient that I would actually allow the little hellions into my car. I’m not even sure which one, I think M, actually tried to escape from the car on the freeway once. They both would wander off ALL of the time, but I was rather adept at staying BEHIND my group and observing their path to the wrong part of the museum and a quick retrieval before anyone was the wiser. My sons class, which falls in the middle, didn’t have a boy from this particular family. Instead his class had three or four of the little buttwipes from other families – and they made M the escape artist animal abuser and his brother C the vodka drinking porn providing little pervert look like saints. One of these little hooligans, the one whose parents were oblivious to his social idiocies, was placed in my group for a field trip. He was a pale skinned, red headed, way way freckled (those huge freckles that red heads get), chubby, spoiled little pain in everyone’s ass. (Actually his mother was totally to blame, and a bigger pain in the ass than the kid – you know how that goes – he coulda been a cool kid if she hadn’t mollycoddled him and let the world know how freakin perfect she thought he was at every opportunity). Fortunately his more than perfect mother generally chaperoned field trips, so ordinarily no one had to deal with the little beast. (Picture Dudley from the Harry Potter books combined with that little red headed hellion from the Bad News Bears – or was it that hockey movie about ducks???) But alas, the day came when perfect mommy had to go be perfect for her other son, or her husband, or was starting a support group for mom’s who can’t do enough volunteering and ass kissing – and that teacher, she actually even said it out loud to me (how politically incorrect) saddled me with him because she was sure that I was the only parent on the trip that could handle him. Through most of the field trip he was actually rather quiet and compliant – he didn’t bully the other kids too much, far less than usual… he didn’t run off, sass me, insist on getting his own way, etc. He ate his lunch rather than throwing it at people – which was a huge improvement over his usual field trip lunch time antics. Finally, the trip ended – my son of course wanted ‘shotgun’ so the other little darlings – son’s best friend – what a great kid- and another sweet kid that never quite fit in but son and his friend were always kind and included him, and he requested me because he absolutely adored me (still hugged me in SIXTH grade – EVERY time he saw me!) – he knew no one would bully him in my car probably and of course the beast all climbed in the backseat.

You know that look a kid gets on their face about 10 minutes before they puke. That sorta pale green can’t smile or move their facial features in any way, staring blankly and actually starting to look smaller than they are? The beast got that look on his face… about 5 minutes from the school… so I said “hey T, you don’t look good, are you gonna hurl?”. He replied that no, he would not hurl, he was fine he just had a headache. He got greener as I exited the highway and headed up the road to the school. “You sure you’re okay T” “Yes, I just have a headache”… then… that true green, you know the look, and the strange shape the mouth takes… the ‘its about to blow green and puckered look’… we were 100 feet from the door of the school… no sense stopping til we got to the door. As I pulled to the front door, the boys all bailed, they could see it coming too, and the janitor was walking out of the building right at that moment… my son bless his heart ripped open the back door and T leaned out and let fly with the most amazing amount of chunky looking slime… then he got up took three steps and erupted again, the two puddles on the sidewalk nearly touching… a few more steps and another huge puddle, fewer chunks, more volume, running down the sidewalk toward the others. The sidewalk was about 30 feet long to the door… the janitor picked up a quick pace to the kid and pulled a bag from his pants pocket (janitors are like boyscouts, prepared for anything) and handed it to him and guided him into the clinic. The Bell rang – the front doors burst open and 120 first and second graders began pouring out of the school like bees erupting from a broken hive… willy nilly everywhere, and then they stopped… it was a domino effect pileup of small children, trying to stop in time – the kids who could see the huge mess – probably 12-15 feet long and about 4 feet wide, a river of puke – trying to navigate around it with the pressure from behind pushing them forward. I felt compelled to try to direct the traffic, I enlisted the other boys… we were pushing first and second graders to the sides of the river of goo, the teachers couldn’t see the mess but quickly realized that we were redirecting their darlings onto the grass toward the kindergarteners and they were about to lose them all in the confusion before their mom’s could get them. Somehow someone stopped the flow of children out the front door and directed them all back down the halls and through the classrooms that had doors on the front side of the school. Parents who were used to hovering around and picking up their children began to gag and run away, no help at all… they just wanted to determine their child had not made this hideous mess and wasn’t dying somewhere of some fatal gastrointestinal dilemma. Soon the janitor reappeared with the hose, but then disappeared again and went and got the ‘sawdust’ stuff… you know the pink sawdust… wow that stuff is absorbent. I ventured into the clinic to check on T – his butt was sticking up out of the door of the tiny little bathroom that the clinic had attached to it and he was still groaning and moaning and by now heaving more dry than wet. He was also crying, poor kid, so embarrassed and hoping that he hadn’t gotten any in my car. I assured him that vomit can be cleaned and I would go find the teachers or his mom. I arrived back at the 5th grade classrooms where all of the 5th graders had been kept because we “hadn’t returned” yet and they couldn’t be dismissed til they were all accounted for. His mom (bitch) was loudly complaining to the teacher that not only had she sent him with that weird Mrs. Me, but that she knew for a fact that I had probably stopped somewhere on the way back and that I had no consideration for the rules or other people. I, in fact, have never stopped on the way home from a field trip – and I do respect the rules and the teachers, just not usually the other parents. I stepped into the room, and in my best impression of Donna Reed, looked her square in the eye and told her that her son had indeed needed to stop on the way back, but that I had managed to return him all the way to the front walk of the school before he threw up what was apparently 42 gallons of vomit and that he was currently with the Clinic Aide having the most hideous dry heaves I had seen since college. Then the teacher dismissed the class and followed me out to the front where we found the Janitor shoveling pink sawdust into a trash can and cursing that TR Brat! Apparently… T always vomits in such volume, and had done it on several occasions in his years at this school. Further, the kid didn’t know what I meant by ‘hurl’ so he really did think that he was not going to ‘hurl’. I only had to just barely clean up a few wee bits of vomit that barely caught the threshold of the car, and not the rest, so I’m not sure this would have qualified for the contest – but it was nasty just the same.

Listerine... let me count the ways

I just found this and it was never posted... I wrote it last week, looks finished, wonder what I was thinking?

I recently read a blog over at My Tiny Kingdom regarding stinky feet - and I posted there that Listerine actually helps the stinky feet - other things that help - and these of course depend on many factors...

Drop stinky assed sandals (waterproof) and watershoes in the pool overnight - upside down so that the stinky part is in contact with the germ killing chlorine... this is even better if you just 'shocked' your pool... might discolor certain fabrics (you know "chlorine bleach" -- yeah)

Rinse with cold water after bathing/showers, this helps with body odor from ANY part of the body - it's not a cure all, but some feet are stinky enough to use a multi-faceted attack

Two pairs of socks - I know more laundry, but honestly you can buy more shoes or you can try the two pairs of socks -- I have SIX brothers - who all wear TWO pair of socks, and none of them started that until their feet became unbearably smelly - even to themselves. My husband also used to wear two pair when he was working in landscaping and wearing work boots, again no stinky (although he is not a stinky person by nature, but work boots usually are)

And baking soda in shoes does help - although again... once they get the funk, it's too late, this really needs to be done as a preventive to any shoes that you care about... I read over at My Tiny Kingdom about putting it in some socks and then putting the socks in every night... now this just might work for a boy who will not sprinkle every night (hell we are lucky they brush teeth at least every 48 hours and change underwear often enough to have to launder it occasionally)

oh yeah the post title is "Listerine"... so it is supposed to be this hilarious story about Listerine

Okay so I come from this stinky family - my mother's side, though she doesn't have much issue with body odor -- and I was always taught that the aluminum in deodorant is terrible for your health (grew up homeopathic) so we avoided it til of course no one could stand us - so you can table the 'you used deodorant too soon' lecture. My uncle is without question the worst smelling American on the planet - I'm not racist, it's just that I have travelled some, and between lack of plumbing, different hygiene habits, different diets, etc... for we Americans, some people in other parts of the world are pretty smelly (they themselves probably think we stink). Anyhow, dear old Uncle reeks most of the time, but my Aunt always said that was in part due to the fact that he smokes like a chimney and drinks 92 pots of coffee each day... while those are both near truths... and well I used to smoke, and I have always been a fairly heavy coffee drinker - I didn't start stinking as bad until I stopped smoking and cut back on the coffee... hmmmmmmmmmmm. Alas, I have to change brands of deodorant (yes with aluminum blah blah) every couple of sticks as Degree will only work for a few months and then is useless so I change to Secret - again only for a few months - probably two sticks and then back to the other... I really don't know as the stink comes mid-stick usually and I just go get the other one. Then, there are fabrics that make it much worse - and I love tank tops, and I think the lack of sleeve just 'massages' the stink glands in the armpits - so if you catch me mid-stick in a sleeveless shirt with any rayon or spandex in the fabric on a hot or stressful day I'm liable to be stinky while my hair is still wet from my shower - seriously... I have noticed myself smelly while I am still IN MY TOWEL from my shower - and if you can smell yourself - you are really disgusting to other people. Add to this that my husband has never touched a stick of deodorant to his armpits his entire life and smells nice all of the time (well unless he rolls in shit or something, but he only does that on rare occasions). So I am very aware, really I am aware - and embarrassed that I stink like good-old-stinky-assed-chain-smoking-coffee-drinking-slightly-creepy Uncle.

It was a day like that, I arrived at work, had to work on one computer right next to my boss - could smell myself - wishing I had worn a wet suit to work so the stink couldn't get out - and I had to go to a meeting. I got to my car to drive to the meeting - and went for my emergency stick of Secret - UGH WRONG CAR! I had taken to driving the kids' car because it gets better gas mileage and my emergency stick of Secret was safely stored in the glove box of my car at home in the driveway. I frantically started searching my purse for some Purell (my mom has recommended this as a way to kill germs and contain odor) dammit it was empty - no doubt my youngest who has some sort of fascination with opening containers but is completely unable to close them again had found it some time previously and then it had probably run all over everything in my purse, but being mostly alcohol probably just made ink run on some important piece of paper and then dried up rather quickly. There I was at the light of a VERY BUSY Denver intersection, when I saw it... the travel listerine I had just purchased for an upcoming trip. And... there were napkins in the glove box. I grabbed a napkin, soaked it in listerine and right there at the red light next to a bazillion delivery guys and across the intersection from a few dozen more, I unbuttoned my blouse (it wouldn't untuck because of the outfit I had on and the seatbelt) and began to warsh my armpits with listerine soaked napkins. It did help with the body odor - and I had that nice medicinal smell too!

I'm sure there are 8 million uses for listerine - so feel free to share them

This weeks menu

As stated earlier, I am going to try to post our menu so that if I share those times when we actually have ideas about what to eat, other folks will offer up some suggestions that will allow me to come up with some variations and we don't eat the same three things in constant rotation (exaggerating for clarity). I have to give credit where credit is due - I still haven't figured out exactly what she wanted so damn bad - but my oldest daughter (the one that cooks) really wanted to go to the store yesterday after I picked them up - she said something about lunch, but all she bought that had anything to do with lunch was sourdough bread. Anyhow, credit goes to her, she said that if we were going [I can't type dammit, I have backspaced over like 15 typos already] we should make a menu and a list. Well bless her heart she even got her sister interested, and thus... we have a menu (for a change) just like the old days when I was an organized mom. It is for a short week, but still.

Tuesday - Porkchops with wine sauce (this is S's specialty, and she was cooking), she also made rice and sauteed zucchini to accompany this

Wednesday - Chicken Cordon Bleu (another specialty of daughter), I believe she is planning on asparagus and rice pilaf with this (she really really likes rice)

Thursday - Sloppy Joes (we have a really busy day this day, so this will rock to come home to something already planned and EASY), we will have steak fries and sliced peaches fresh from the Western Slope with this

Friday - BBQ Ribs (my husband is a magician on the grill), I'll make some pasta salad and corn on the cob to go with this

Saturday - Chicken in the Red Pan - another family recipe, you should have seen the delight on my children's faces when I suggested it - not a summer recipe as a rule because it goes in the oven, and we all know you don't bake when it's hot! [I just checked though and that is our small town festival weekend - may have to make a change, we'll see] none the less it's the plan. This is served with Rice (stop laughing, we don't usually have rice three times a week) and there is broccoli and mushrooms in the recipe - that's veggie enough, haha

Sunday - Spaghetti - Daughters boyfriend is going to be here, and she wants him to enjoy a family meal with us - apparently this means something Italian (or Polish-though she didn't suggest any Polish food). Looks like I really only have to cook once all week (WOO HOO) and that might get postponed for harvest festival! You know she will want to cook for her b/f and I won't be allowed near the sauce.

So - the grocery list also follows (keeping in mind that I probably had some of what was needed on hand.

Pork Chops
Chicken Breasts
Matzo Meal
2 Cans Crushed Tomatoes
Sloppy Joe Mix (ps. I never follow the directions!)
Buns
Ribs
Corn on the Cob (buying later at farmers market)
Rice
Zucchini
Asparagus (wth is wrong with Safeway these days, they have this nice asparagus, but they let it sit in nasty water or NO water and it's icky icky)
Rice Pilaf
Broccoli
Prosciutto
Swiss Cheese
Mozzarella
Mushrooms
Tomato Paste
Ground Beef
Red Wine

my schedule this week...

I've not been home once all week... Monday night we had Job's Daughters, Tuesday night was Back to School Night (remind me again about the value of this for involved parents who have already had every teacher in the school?), Wednesday was 'Senior College Night' - holy criminy, it amazes me that some parents were smart enough to actually keep their child alive long enough for them to be a Senior!, Last night was opening game for Varsity Football and tonight is my father's 75th birthday and I'm buying him a beer!

Anyhow, I told another blogger (can't even remember who now - Tales from My Tiny Kingdom?) that I would post our menu so that others could have ideas for dinner - I am so ashamed to say that our menu has been:

Monday - Girls & Mom - Burgers (grilled by husband at 9pm when we got home)
Boy & Dad - Burgers

Tuesday - Kids - DOYO (aka Dinner On Your Own) - so they had soup or frozen convenience food or ramen or something like that
- Mom & Dad - Arby's

Wednesday - Youngest - DOYO (she had a salad)
Boy - Team Dinner, I have no idea, I didn't ask, I think it was burgers
Oldest & Mom & Dad - Taco Bell

Thursday - Girls - Arby's
- Boy and Mom & Dad - Chipotle

Tonight - the plan is to have breakfast for dinner because I have some breakfast links that need cooking in the fridge

So if you want ideas for dinner - please see the below the very involved, lousy to stand around and prepare in hot weather, strange sounding, but delicious old family recipe

As for what I've gotten out of all these nights away from home... Monday night, it was the first meeting of the term so there wasn't much to be gotten - that's okay, you have to have one every term right?... Tuesday night, BTSN - well the big huge everyone speech by the principal was too long and drawn out, there was NO NEW INFORMATION, and I didn't have a seat, had to sit on the Gym Floor! Then we went to the classes, you go to each "period" for ten minutes and this works well for most families who have 1 or 2 children with 1 or 2 parents, but we are outnumbered and have to pick and choose which classes to miss... I don't really care what the teachers have to say about the syllabus or the rules - they don't really change much from year to year or teacher to teacher - no plagierism, no cheating, come in during activity period for help, this is a survey course, we will have 4-5 homework assignments per week, there will be a term paper after christmas break and here are all the dates that you will never retain and you will never find that slip of paper you are writing on again so I don't know why I am telling you this, etc. Now, in the case of a teacher we have not had previously - you get a feel for the teacher -

Sr. daughter's History teacher is indeed creepy like she said, and he has NOTHING hanging on his walls, however he is really passionate about history and excited to teach them the stuff on the syllabus - so I think it will be fun and fine (Boy has him also)

Sr. daughter's English teacher might be a pompous ass, he has an ego wall in his classroom, has the look of an eccentric college professor - weird beard and all - and wants to make certain that the parents know that he gradutaed summa cum laude from one University and magna cum laude from another (this tells me he has no social skills, but whatever) - he is also passionate about his subject and looks like he takes particular interest in making it intersting to the kids - his one goal may be to make more literature geeks like himself - perhaps he loves himself that much?

Freshman daughter's math teacher (boy had him last year, but he got left out of the schedule for some reason) seems pretty cool, I actually almost never have to have contact with the boy's teachers because he is scary smart and very organized and doesn't particularly need my support at school... so I actually never met the teacher in a whole year! I think he will be good for her because he isn't a super math geek dried up old prune and can actually speak to people and kids

French teacher is just as kooky as every other year, and AP French should be very demanding on the Sr. daughter (the other two have her also, but there isn't much reason to go into that - she's kooky that's all)

AP Chem teacher (British) is a kick, I think she's delightful, most everyone else thinks she has a stick up her butt, but I can tell she doesn't - my concern though is that she has the boy, and he can be rather... gregarious during class, which doesn't always go over well with 'stick up the butt' teachers - it will be very demanding but like I said, he's scary smart and never has issues with that

Son's math teacher does not look like Mrs. Umbridge without glasses - I don't know what youngest was smoking when she made this assessment (she doesn't smoke - it's an expression)... she is not flaky and crazy, and she isn't mean and harsh - actually she seemed alright, sort of neutral - and son thinks she's okay too - regardless of her reputation

Husband saw - same history teacher, an English teacher we had before, the gym teacher - the female one with the nice rack that the boy is delighted to have for weight lifting, another English teacher we had before, a biology teacher we had before, and the photography teacher that we had before - he told me she has lovely daughters - her name is Mrs. Brown - I don't think he met or saw her daughters, he's just a smart ass that way.

We blew it and did not see a math teacher that we needed to see, oops - should have sent husband there instead of the weight room - oh well. We've had the teacher before but it is an AP course, so probably should have gone there.

Wednesday night... Senior College night - oh dear lord! -- I got two things out of it, speakers can be amusing even if they teach you nothing and Counselors send the whole tomato to colleges now - the app, the transcript, the letters, the essay - and you must have it to them two weeks before the deadline so they can process it. -- the question and answer sessions were a waste of time, and other seniors parents for the most part are fine, but a few are totally inept and should be locked up at home before they cause more damage!

Thursday night... well really what do you get out of a football game that your kid doesn't play in? They won, by a large margin, and it was fun. Our kids attend a strange school where most of the parents go to games, even if they don't have a football player living in their home. It is quite bizarre actually that about half or more of the crowd at a game is adults - teachers and parents - even the geeky teachers come - so it is a bit of a social event, although my husband and I both really enjoy football so we try to sit near the more serious football fan parents and limit our socializing to halftime and the occasional comment after a play about an exceptional block or a great catch. We sat near a family where the mom is quite social but dad and grandpa and grandma are very into the game, then some other very football serious moms sat to my right - we practically didn't even talk during halftime - it was great - no pressure to make smalltalk with people I am tired of after all this school meeting socializing crap. I made a point to wander to the social section during halftime to inquire about another woman's sick mom - she has West Nile Virus, and I found out last night Viral Meningitis - she is very sick, I felt very bad for my 'friend' - I remember when my mom was sick how much it meant when people asked about me and wanted to be kind and helpful - I'm deciding about what I want to do for her (she also has a new baby) I think I will fix a couple of meals and maybe get her some light reading - maybe even magazines? Thoughts from any of you about what would have been meaningful while you sat around the hospital for the third week would be appreciated. I don't know her well, so books might be a flop if she doesn't read much or has already read them... unless someone has a great suggested title that wouldn't likely fall into those categories. I also don't know if she has any particular hobbies - but I like her very much, her kids are very nice, her husband is a great guy - and our sons play both football and baseball together so we see each other pretty regularly.

Today - I need to go into my office and do some more work - instead of blogging and googling finch care all day. I got a new pair of finches last night - thinking of naming them either Atticus and Scout - you know from the novel - or Atticus and SingSing or Florence - face it the male is Atticus. But when I told my mom that, she thought I said Attica - thus the Prison name for the female (my daughter is grossed out that they might breed and in the book Scout and Atticus are daughter/father - I see her point actually) My husband is partial to Florence, as that is the maximum security prison here in Colorado, and we could call her Flo for short - which cracks him up - because "she flo all over da house when she got away" - or "she flo from perch to perch when she get happy" - he's SUCH A DORK, giggle.

My "favorite" meal

Of course I don't have a 'favorite' - I hate absolutes, and I'm moody, and I think the word 'favorite' is restrictive! However, the day that I answered a shitload of questions, I put Round Steak Rollups as my favorite food (and someone asked how to make them).

Now... keep in mind that this is a family recipe that I have seldom shared at all, and my children will probably be angry if they ever find out (you know that I am a surreptitious blogger and to my knowledge NONE of my family are aware of or read my blog)

Also this recipe is NOT written down anywhere so... trust my memory, and hope I get the quantities somewhere near correct -- also to the best of my knowledge it was passed to my mom by my father's Polish aunt and we always thought it was Polish, not sure though

We all (cousins, sisters, mom) make this in a pressure cooker - I suppose it could be baked for a bazillion hours, or maybe even crockpotted, but I doubt it would taste the same. Also, my cousins use bacon in theirs -- I'm told -- I don't remember ever eating this at my Aunt's house, and I have never had my cousin's version - but bacon doesn't sound bad - so add it if you would like.

Round Steak (we are pigs, and my son can eat about 20 roll ups if I would let him, and it's a lot of work, so I buy as much as my pressure cooker (large) will accomodate - usually two-three steaks - you know the large thin ones, I have no idea on pounds because I use my eyes, lol. So they ones that are on a tray that is about 12" x 9" - actually they seem more square than that - but anyhow, larger than a piece of typing paper and they are about 1/2 inch thick.

Mustard (yellow), pickles (dill), rice (white), campbells golden mushroom soup (about 1 can per round steak, but I think I would never make it with fewer than two cans), onion (usually I use yellow, but white would be okay too), beer, flour and toothpicks, shortening or vegetable oil (yeah yeah canola is fine, but not olive)

slice the pickles (sorry quantity totally boggles me, I think you will need at least 10 pickles to start with - I use a bazillion because we make as much as will fit in the cooker), lengthwise, as thin as you can get them, most people can't do paper thin, but if you are that freaking good with a knife, that is probably too thin, then I usually cut the length in half because pickles are usually longer than the two inches width of the meat. put the mustard in a bowl with a knife for spreading, I use my 'frosting' blade that I use on cakes, slice the onion (may only need 1/2 onion-depending on strength and size of batch, my rule is if an onion really makes me cry, I only use 1/2) (this can be done later while you are browning the meat, it's a preference thing)

Pound the shit outta the roundsteak with flour and a meat hammer - you want to at least double it's size. Cut it into strips, like about two inches wide and maybe six-7 inches long? You have to adjust for the meat you're working with. Slather the strips (one side) with mustard, a thin coating, but not too thin, you should be able to see yellow on the entire surface of ONE side of the meat, but you should be able to tell there is meat under there. A piece that is 2"x7" probably uses 2 tsps of mustard??? (totally guessing here). place a pickle slice perpendicular to the meat strip and start rolling the meat around the pickle, keep placing pickle slices as you roll - I usually put 4-6 slices per roll in a "regular" sized roll. toothpick the rolls - it is always sort of a 'challenge' around here to try not to have any double toothpicks - if this is your first time I wouldn't challenge yourself to that - you want them to hold together, but do try to remember for your family about how many they should expect in each roll so they don't bite into one!

[I have tried the 'minute steaks' you know that the butcher put through his dealio - the meat is too fragile and will not work]

Brown the rolls in heated shortening/oil - frankly the shortening tastes better, but of course it is lousy for your heart/cholesterol/blood pressure health - I use an iron skillet, as do my sisters and mom - I don't know if this affects the taste, but probably. Make sure you use a RACK in your pressure cooker - we are talking flour and gravy here, it will stick like a somebitch if you don't have the rack in there, and the bottom ones will taste burnt (I know this because I have spaced out the rack on the second batch for a big family dinner). [oh yeah if you have leftover pickles you can fry them for a minute or two and throw them in the cooker with the rolls]

Place the rolls in your pressure cooker (if you have one but seldom use it - remember that there is a fill line! My mom blew one up when we were kids, I don't wish that on anyone - you can push the fill line a little, but always leave some space or it will blow) don't forget the rack first, throw in the sliced onion with the rolls, dump the soup in, throw in the beer - less one or two swallows to check for freshness? - sometimes this recipe requires a beer and a half, geez don't waste that half!, and then fill with water to the 'fill line' or maybe just a cheat more if you are brave (this will be the gravy and most people really love the gravy so the more the better, but you don't want to clean it off of your ceiling or worse yet risk a burn on a family member)

(I AM NOT ADVOCATING TAKING RISKS OR ENDANGERING YOUR FAMILY, I AM ADMITTING I AM A BIG CHEAT THAT DOES THAT, BUT I DON'T RECOMMEND IT TO ANYONE)

cook the shit outta them - in a pressure cooker this means 45 minutes 'rocking' - you don't start timing til the rocker is rocking -

update - I just went looking for an exploded pressure cooker picture (no luck) but ran across lots of caveats about not opening too soon - um yeah, if you don't use one often, remember to open EXACTLY as directed by the manufacturer - this one I don't cheat on

cook up some rice to serve them with - also recommended pierogies (also not particularly heart smart)

you can do salad - might help with the guilt for the fat and salt and carbs in this dish.

Thursday Thirteen - Dirtiest Story #5

Ah yes, inspiration at last, now I have a number 5… Father’s Day – must have been 1993 as my youngest was in diapers and small enough to charm everyone at the party that actually liked babies. My brother-in-law (at the time) and my sister were hosting the party, so his family was there also. Very nice people, but VERY VERY stodgy (what a great word) and stiff. His father (who makes THE ABSOLUTE BEST DILL PICKLES EVER) was completely smitten with my darling and was carrying her around the yard cooing and babbling at her as if she was the only thing on the planet – ignoring even his own granddaughters to some degree to lavish attention on this darling little baby that quite frankly at that age looked a lot like a little American Indian Betty Boop with the hugest blue eyes you ever saw. So, the older children were ‘playing’ basketball – none of them were really tall enough to make a basket in the regulation hoop, the men were complaining because my anti-tv, anti-sports, very eccentric sister was fed up with them watching the Masters and disconnected the cable! – it was father’s day, but don’t let that stop her from ruining the fun of the fathers in the group. The women were spread out under her huge shade trees in various lawn chairs and hammocks gossiping and drinking some wonderful concoction of juice that my sister was serving. That’s when we heard the noise, a strange muffled machine gun noise, very loud, but yet… muffled, and wet sounding too. We saw it before Joe felt it, all over his beautiful ivory colored silk shirt – brown goo, lots and lots of wet brown goo, running down his shirt. The smiley baby didn’t betray a thing, it was if she didn’t know she had a dirty diaper – and Joe must have thought that he was sweating or something because he seemed absolutely oblivious to the quart or so of goo running down his torso. It was so embarrassing, this man dressed so dapper, and such a sweet man – and his stuffy wife who I suspect never even liked her own child** – so disgusted at the thought that her husband was sullied and she might have to be near him in a different shirt or worse yet – no shirt. The baby was actually pretty easy to clean up – we were at the auntie’s house – I just stripped her down right there in the yard – this was apparently gauche to these folks and they were disgusted with me – and then I took her in the house and bathed her real quick in Aunties bathtub (okay I was gonna use the kitchen sink – she was a tiny baby – but these people were in such shock at having seen her naked bum that I couldn’t bear putting it in the kitchen sink and getting ‘caught’). However, Joe would not go in the house dirty, lest he stink up the house. He also would not take off his shirt in front of people (for an old guy I’m sure he was in fine shape, and it was all family – sort of), in addition he was absolutely refusing to wear one of his son’s shirts, even if just for a short time while his was cleaned. So Joe wiped up his shirt as best he could and continued to wear it for the rest of the party! It was like a giant red beacon of embarrassment – can’t you keep your kids from overflowing their diapers?, what the hell do you feed them anyhow?, haven’t you ever heard of a schedule?, I don’t know, any other absurd questions you could ask that would make this MY FAULT. The woman never spoke to me again, I can’t even remember her name now! Joe quit giving me pickles – I had to steal them from my brother-in-law (with my sister’s assistance) when he was out of town… and my daughter – now 14… can still fart louder than a Gatling gun, but thank G-d they aren’t wet anymore!!

**[update, remember I wrote these stories awhile back... the ice queen's name is Mary, and I was right, she didn't like her own child that much, apparently she recently told him that she would rescind the adoption if she could! Is that one of the most hideous things you can imagine your parent saying to you or saying to your child!!!???!!!]

in case you were wondering??

Here’s more about me:

Accent–I don’t have one – I’m a native of Colorado – however I do have a condition that my children refer to as ‘contagious accent’ – whenever I speak to someone with an accent I begin to pick it up immediately

I don’t drink–anything fru-fru and candy-assed – if you are old enough to have a drink, it should not taste like liquefied cotton candy!

Pets–at the moment – two dogs, one is my daughter’s – have had hundreds of pets in my life (mom was great about letting us bring damn near anything home) including rabbits, turtles, crabs, fish, hamsters, guinea pigs, gerbils, mice, birds, cats, dogs, pigs, goats… never had a snake – Dad has a phobia

Essential Electronics–what a strange thought – I don’t actually think I have any – clearly I love my computer, but when the power goes out I don’t freak out, I just grab a book and a cup of tea and enjoy the silence… oh wait, there is that menopause shit starting, so yeah fans and air-conditioners and the ilk

Perfume–J’ai Osè

Gold or Silver- neither I have an aversion to jewelry (my wedding band is gold)

Insomnia–um yeah that menopause shit is starting – nuff said

Job Title–data/finance specialist – this means that any kind of paper that comes into our office ends up with my fingerprints on it

Most Admired Trait–I’m not sure I have one – sense of humor?

Least Admired Trait-probably my lack of diplomacy (although people are always saying “oh no, it’s great, I like a straight shooter” and you can tell they are offended as hell)

Kids–Girl, Boy, Girl – 15 months between each – all teenagers at the moment – and all still alive – at the moment

Phobia–heights

Religion–Religious Science (no not Christian Science or Scientology)

Siblings–6 brothers, 4 older, two younger, three of which are foster brothers and one adopted us… two older sisters – we girls are all 5.5 years apart, making the oldest 11 years older than I, and yet people always think she is my younger sister which really pisses me off.

Time I Wake Up–lately I wake up about 1:30am, 4:00am, and 5:15 am, I generally get up about 5:45-6:00 am, but it varies widely based on where I am sleeping, what I am wearing, and who else is already up.

Unusual Talent or Skill–I can wiggle my ears and my nose, I can do that thing where you raise one eyebrow, and I can fold my lips up really weirdly – I can even do all of this simultaneously!

Vegetable I Refuse to Eat–Okra -- what the hell, ewwwww

Worst Habit–potty mouth?

X-rays–again strange—well dental, and I broke my back when I was 17 – I can’t think of any others, but I certainly can recall the feel of those lead apron deals

My Favorite Meal–probably ‘round steak roll-ups’, but dang gina, it could be different every day – I’m not much on ‘favorites’ I just can’t commit

Leaving this as an open tag. Whoever wants to play is invited. Have a good weekend!

Favorite Parenting Quote "of the week"*

this from 'Because I Said So'...

...everyone knows a ringing phone releases a hormone in children that makes them flock to you like seagulls to a bag of discarded Mc Donald's left-overs in the parking lot...

There is so much truth on this blog that it frightens me, and makes me laugh right the hell out loud -- keep in mind I grew up in a family of seven - so this woman's life is my mom's -- and um... wow my mom should be cannonized (even though we aren't catholic, yeah really we aren't catholic and there were actually nine of us, [they added after we all left!] -- we aren't mormon either, it had nothing to do with religion and everything to do with my parents having the best spirits in town (not the kind you drink... although...)

*remember week is a relatively broadly defined term = when I get around to reading something that prompts me to post it

my husband's children have a dirty little secret

The little fuck monkeys blessed angels have done it again, they made me so pissy that I had to tell everyone that I’ve had a conversation with about it.

My sister – who can grow popsicle sticks – seriously, anything she sticks in the ground will grow, and bloom, and multiply, and grow larger, greener, bloomier, and with more babies than anyone elses… had to move a few years back – and I inherited her beautiful rose bushes (which I managed to keep alive, but they aren’t anything like when she had them and she would play Mozart for them and kiss them and tenderly dead-head them, and talk to them, and whatever it is she does – they are lucky that I have a drip system that waters them, and occasionally I run out and dead-head them (like twice a summer, instead of daily like her).

So one of these gorgeous wonderful fantastic bushes, is still blooming in spite of my neglect – ‘French Perfume’ variety – which means that it has the most outstanding fragrance – almost too strong – and these beautiful blooms on long stems that cut for bouquets just wonderfully (which I hesitate to do, lest my black thumb actually come in contact with the plant and it instantly whithers and dies). However, this morning I walked out my front door, coffee in hand, ready to drive to work and I looked over and the French Perfume was covered in beautiful blooms and I couldn’t resist – I had to have a bouquet for my desk at work.

So I walked into my kitchen to my junk drawer (I actually know a woman who does NOT HAVE a junk drawer in any room in her house – freakish that – I have one in EVERY room) – and I lifted the hot pads to put my hands on my rose clippers (very expensive lovely gift from my husband that actually thought having the right tool might make a difference for me – bless him) and THEY WEREN’T THERE. Now you know some teenager has been using them to trim toenails, cut baggie ties to build some sort of weapon, get into one of those fucking molded plastic packages that require a blow torch and safety gloves and glasses to get into, or even possibly as a substitute for a hammer, pliers, screwdriver, wedge, etc. – and that they did not put them back - there is also a good possibility that this mutilation of MY rose clippers took place outdoors (to prevent my snooping eyes from seeing) and they are probably somewhere rusting and covered with something nasty. So I grabbed kitchen shears – I wasn’t about to upset my lovely morning of cutting a bouquet to be sullied by actually finding out who/what/where my clippers were being abused.

Then I went to get a vase out of the buffet. I have probably 15 ‘utility’ vases – my father really likes to give flowers, I have a dancer who receives lots of flowers, and of course you need several colors, shapes, sizes to accommodate all this cut flower displaying. Don’t mistake this to mean we have cut flowers around all the time – we seldom do, and when we do, they generally stay in the vase until they are nearly unrecognizable dried up black and brown ghosts of their former selves, tucked in some corner where their height wasn’t disturbing someone’s conversation, homework, meal, etc. I also have a few expensive vases in the china hutch – these don’t actually get used – we used to have a cat, and after he broke a few vases, I learned that it isn’t practical to use the expensive ones with a cat in the house – the cat’s been dead now for about 5 years, but I haven’t changed that habit – also – whoever designs expensive vases doesn’t actually think about putting flowers in them – they are beautiful empty – but they are always the wrong shape to display a bouquet and look silly filled.

So… I went to get a utility vase out of the bottom of the buffet – you know in with all my “clean” dishes, that particular section of the buffet has the soup bowls, some platters, several dessert dishes, tea pots and some other sundry serving bowls, etc. -- AHA – that little glass one is just perfect for three blooms, that will leave several on the bush and look great on my desk – ewwwwwwwwww it’s got nasty brown old flower water ring around it. Set it on top of the buffet to take it to the kitchen for “re-cleaning” – AHA that milk glass one will be nice with 3 maybe 4 blooms, still leaving some on the bush, and will travel well in the car – ewwwwwwww nasty brown dried up water stain in the bottom, this was never washed, maybe someone couldn’t see it was dirty since it is milk glass – okay how about this tall glass one, that bush has long stems, ewwwwwwww nasty old flower stuff in the bottom – FIVE filthy nasty vases in my buffet with my clean dishes (well I didn’t actually confirm the dishes were clean) – and two more on the kitchen table --- I had only ONE vase that was even remotely the correct size and shape for this project – not to mention I was pissed as all get out about the dirty vases. But it was so wide that I had to cut every blossom off the bush to fill it enough not to look silly. Now what were those little lazy asses thinking, that I would never use another vase again? That they could fake me out by offering to put any flowers that came into the house into water? That they would remember later to take them all back out and clean them? Or did they even think – I’ll bet this was one of those “this kitchen had better be perfect when I get home or heads will roll” days – and it had to have been shortly after a ballet recital for there to be that many dirty vases – unless they have been doing this as a regular MO for months without even caring if there is ever a clean vase in the house.

So, I cut my roses with scissors, put them in a too large vase, brought them to work – wow does my car smell fragrant now – and told my boss, my mom, my husband – and now of course all of you – about the little dirty secret that my husband’s children have been hiding from me.

My husband does not have children with some other woman - I gave birth to all three of them - please don't be confused by my sarcastic implication that this is all his genetic influence

oops... I missed Thursday

We have an event at work this weekend, I have an event at the kids' school this weekend, and my husband/father belong to the same lodge that also has an event this weekend - and it's our wedding anniversary (happy we still like each other to us!) And I had a 'fruit delivery' yesterday - which basically means I do 80 bazillion hours of work so a bunch of girls have money to spend on their activities and such... it's not all bad - anyhow - I missed Thursday - well I just read my document "dirtiest stories" - because if you are following along I am cheating and I wrote thirteen stories, but I'm posting them one at a time because it's still thursday, and it's still thirteen - but you could never read my long winded rants all at once... and then I don't have to think of stuff for my TT. Anyhow, I was going to just put one up late, but then I realized, you are probably sick of reading about poop and mud (and the next one is puke -- woohoo) so I think I will just skip this week.

aha - the mailman is here, and it's a man, not the girl we usually have, and he's cute (I've always had a thing for men in uniform, even mailmen) -- my mom used to tease me about rating the ones in the neighborhood where we lived - and low and behold eventually #1 became her mailman, and even a friend of hers of sorts - she invited him to the lodge one summer (after I was married and pregnant) -- anyhow, this guy would probably rate about a #3 - not too shabby - well he's gone now - no more eye candy out the window for me.

I had so many thoughts this weekend of things I would love to post about that my "readers" would enjoy, and now that my fingers are on the keyboard will a single one of them come back to me - ugh NO.

We went to the lodge this weekend, what a glorious place that is - you know you have those certain places in your life where everything just goes away and is replaced by relaxation and peace - the lodge is one of those. I can drink all day and all night and never be drunk - which is crazy because it's higher altitude than where I live - I never think about money or bills or work or anything remotely stressful - we play cribbage, go out on the boat, play on the wave runner, this year we canoed a little and the kids took the kayaks out for a bit. We eat great food - usually simple, but great - the woman who is the hostess there is a great cook - and a really good meal planner. We arrived Friday afternoon/evening, unpacked the car - K (youngest) went down to the lake, S (oldest) was thrilled because she had cell phone coverage and could 'text' her boyfriend all weekend, she camped out at the game table with her phone and a deck of cards to play solitaire, and I hit the porch, sat around having some nice conversation, a beer, and just let the drive (which was not bad at all) fade out of me. My mom and I greeted our friends and just relaxed. The ladies who had already been there eventually went to make some burritoes for dinner and I had another beer and a short little cruise around the lake on the boat. We hung out after dinner chatting and catching up on all the improvements they had made to the building, then we watched something on t.v. - I found that I was suddenly as tired as I had been in ages and went up to bed. My girls were already up there in their room and I climbed in bed with K and we lay on her bed teasing with S about her boyfriend and helping her come up with silly questions to ask him -- we giggled and laughed for about an hour - then K and I went into my room and went to bed - she decided to leave her sister alone for the night.

Saturday morning I slept in - got up about 9:30 - shocked the heck outta me when I looked at the clock. Had some great coffee, some fresh bagels, and then one of the ladies makes the ultimate bloody mary's - so I had one of those. Helped K rig her fishing line and she took off to do a little fishing from the dock, S put on some shorts and headed for the beach to maybe play on the wave runner, I wandered down and sat on the deck of the boathouse for a bit drinking my bloody mary and then wandered back up to the lodge and helped fix some potato salad, in the middle of slicing potatoes my mother came through the back door with that "something is bad" voice calling my name - I dropped my knife and ran to meet her only to find out that K had taken the wave runner out and was being chased back to the lodge by the sheriff - not a good thing. I boogied my butt down to the beach, but the other adults down there were already getting her off the wave runner and there she stood in the lagoon talking to the sheriff, who never even asked which of us was her parent, just read her the riot act about cutting off boats, making a wake in a no-wake area - and ahem... splashing him! Yes, she was close enough to the sheriff when she cut off his boat, in the no-wake zone, and took off full throttle, leaving a wake and splashing the sheriff - oh yeah and... she never heard them trying to stop her or their sirens as they chased her across the lake. Needless to say, she was done driving the wave runner for the weekend. (Particularly because they have apparently changed the laws and 14 year olds cannot legally operate them alone anymore). In her defense and mine - you should know that last time we were up, she was told that at 14 y/o she could drive, and she assumed this meant that she could - with or without my pre-approval. She rode it with another adult guest for awhile, who went over the basics with her, don't cut off other boats, don't go too close to shore, don't this and that and then K gave the other adult the impression she had permission to ride alone -- well she didn't... but it was all just non-communication. Anyhow, she was done for the weekend, and I was on my third bloody mary shortly thereafter... S could however ride it, and did, a lot. Then the husband and boy (D) arrived - I knew I had to be the first to tell him about the sheriff chasing our little darling down, and also that D needed a review of boating law before he took off on the wave runner. This was about the time that we came up with a new song for K - "I splashed the sheriff, but I didn't get the deputy" - giggle (she didn't think it was as funny as we did).

The rest of the afternoon unfolded with more water fun for everyone, some more good food, a few more cribbage games after the rain hit, the pre-season bronco game, and a great dinner.

Sunday was more of the same - we did tow the kids on tubes with the boat, that was good for a few hearty ha has - especially after husband pushed the boy in the lake - the boy says -- "now I'm going to get cold, cuz I'm all wet" - ya know like he planned to ride the tube and stay dry - rofl. Husband and I took a walk over to the other lake, and then into town, had an ice cream walked around town and saw some old favorite places, including his mom's old cabin (she sold it darnit) We drove back home Sunday evening and it was just so nice to be so completely unwound.

And - no fishguts in my dining room! In fact they only caught two fish all weekend, and we never ate them, they were getting them ready for hors d'oeuvres when we left.

thursday - and other fishy stuff...

I wrote the post below (twinkie dink) a long time ago and saved it as a draft... yesterday I was lookin through the drafts and thought, dang why didn't I publish this -- well now I know... for crying out loud, that is one long post, it should really be three or four - I'm a crazy woman!

Okay dirty story #4 (This is one of my favorites -- and we are off to vacation at the same lodge this weekend, so didn't this timing work out nicely!

Okay so let’s skip forward a few years… well many years. Now he’s old enough to go fishing, I think he was in 4th grade. We went to the mountains, actually to the lodge of some friends of my family. What a wonderful lodge too, right on the lake. So the kids were fishing all weekend, and my mom, one of the best anglers around and damn snappy with a filet knife too, is encouraging them with lots of tips and tackle and camera action, but they aren’t having a lot of luck. Finally on the last day they caught a handful of fish, maybe 6 between the two boys and two girls (my nephew was along on this trip also). So husband and I are packing up, and washing our sheets (you wash before you leave then it’s clean for the next batch of guests), and loading the car – you know the drill. Mom has offered to filet and cook up the fish for the kids for a light lunch before we hit the road. She is in the kitchen teaching her amazing filleting skill to the boys… I think the girls were off with our hostess cleaning the boathouse or something. And they ask about eating the eyeballs, so she says sure (mom is no squeamish girly grandma), and shows them how easily they pop out. The boys eat them with much delight and then run down to tell the girls ‘hey try these’… (the girls weren’t sure they were eyeballs, and gladly tried them at the hostesses urging… they also liked them) [if you haven’t tried them, they really are pretty tasty and fun to eat]. So mom is now done filleting the fish and the boys are back to the kitchen. The trash has already been taken down so she bags up the fish skeletons and whats inside of them, along with the eyeless heads into some ziplocs and directs the boys to take them to the dumpster.

Fast forward three days. I have come home for the second day in a row to the stinkinest house ever. I cannot find it, I have run oranges down the disposal, I have taken the trash out and washed the trash can. I have looked everywhere for some dirty dish or food that we left sitting unattended before we went to the mountains. The smell is getting worse and worse. It is at the top of the stairs, but not down stairs. It is between the kitchen and the dining room, but not in either room. It is overpowering, I am starting to gag everytime I go to the stairway. Husband is dying also, he is going after me and cleaning up the sink, trash can, bread box, potatoe bin, etc. This stink is overwhelming, the dog doesn’t like it. Day four… husband is putting away a few things that didn’t quite make it to their spots when we got home. They are sitting in the dining room, near the top of the stairs. Among them are the fishing tackle and rods. He picks up the tackle box, and it feels unusually heavy... He opens it up, but there isn’t anything there but normal tackle, some power bait, hooks, weights, leaders, etc. He closes it and heads out to the camper with it, (keep camping gear in camper, one plan that was good in my organizational plan that doesn’t ever work well) and still thinks hmmmm this tackle box doesn’t feel right. He sets it right on my Duncan Phyfe cherrywood hundred year old dining room table and opens it up again… he takes the tray out this time… only to discover some strange brown-grey soup-stew in ziploc bags in the bottom of the tackle box. Oh by the way, the smell has now become so overwhelming that writing this is making my eyes water. Apparently my son, my wonderful genius brilliant son, wanted to take the fish skeletons and eyeless fish skulls to ‘show and tell’ – but then he forgot. The house smelled for weeks, my stomach still turns and my eyes still water when I think of it.

Twinkie Dink

It’s come to my attention that I may well be the ‘oldest’ mom of bloggers that I know – that being a reflection of the age of my children, not of course of my age, as I am young and vibrant and sexy and hip (well at least in my mind when there are no mirrors around close by)… so as such, I am going to add a lovely game for you mom’s to teach to your darlings in the car – because car games rock – or are painful, which is of course funny – til mom yells. Twinkie Dink!

There is of course ‘slug bug’ – if you see a Volkswagen bug (many people play ‘old’ ones only) – then you get to slug someone/everyone – or if you are in my car, you shout it out, and everyone slugs themselves – because I slug like a baby, and the boy can actually give you a Charlie horse that will last an hour.

After the change to slugging yourself – it was changed to ‘hug bug’ – natural progression – they started whining that no one (meaning usually me) was slugging themselves hard enough – ha – we will make it a “loving” game and see how the little terrors like that!

But of course there had to be a development that recognized the ‘new’ bugs – so… what color are airbags – if you said ‘white’ give yourself ten points – if you said anything else, you should probably not be surfing blogs, and should get yourself acquainted with the real world again. What color is the filling inside of a Twinkie (yes those G-d awful ‘cakes’ that are made from nuclear waste disguising itself as yummy goodness) – if you said ‘white’ be ashamed that you have allowed that into your body, if you said you didn’t know – good for you (but really, you should get out of Boulder and enjoy some garbage food for just a day so that you can relate to the rest of us). What color is the outside of a Twinkie – let’s just call it yellow – because that’s where we are going with this. So if a newer yellow bug (older ones don’t have airbags) hits something and the airbags deploy – what would it look like… ****Ding Ding Ding**** That’s right Bob, A Twinkie!

Thus… if you see a newer yellow bug you yell twinkie-dink and you thunk the shit outta the person nearest you (I won’t allow anymore trying to make it all around the car, the writhing and screaming is just too much to take when you are trying to drive, and writhe and scream)

We also have the punch a person ten times if you see a helicopter.

Punch yourself for every letter of the alphabet up to the starting letter of the name of a state of a license plate that someone has called out. ie – I see (and call out) ‘Delaware’ everyone else must punch themselves four times – A1, B2, C3, D4. If I call out Delaware at the same time as my darling daughter, then we must both punch ourselves up to D and everyone else is off the hook. If I am not in the car, say walking through a parking lot and I call it out – I must punch myself for breaking the rules. A nice new twist is – if it is a border state, you still call it out, in the hope they will all pummel themselves – but… they don’t actually have to punch themselves, and they can either call out border state – thus saving everyone pain – or, they can keep that fact to themselves until everyone else is done and they whine ‘S didn’t punch herself’ – then she can reveal that Wyoming is a border state – boy does that chap their butts! Also of course, if you go to Wyoming then at the border, you get a whole new set of border states – woohoo, confusion. Last very advanced twist – if you are on your way home, you can start at ‘z’ and go backward – thus Wyoming isn’t so painful – but Arizona will leave a mark (of course they are both border states, teee heeee).

And for the best giggles of all… you make up sentences/phrases that use the letters on the license plate – 420-MTD
“Mothers Tell Doozies”
“Melting Tiny Dots”
etc.

we play that you can’t repeat a word – which if you are on an ‘X’ can get tricky. Our rules – which are complicated, because we are never happy with the simple rules (see Twinkie Dink – and State Game) are a bit complex…

Everyone shouts out their phrase, never repeating someone else’s word or ‘you’re out’ – and if someone gets skipped – so I pick the plate, driver’s seat, duh… and I say my phrase, then the passenger should be up next, but if the backseat chimes in before she can think of one, then she’s out. If anyone says two phrases before anyone else can think of one, they win that license plate. Winner chooses the next license plate – or uses the next available one if the traffic is that slim. My kids are older, so we do allow some dirty words, and let me tell you ‘Kangaroo Penises Droop’ and the like are pretty darn funny – we laugh and laugh!

Then of course you can incorporate the radio into car games – the scan button game(s).

Name the artist of the song that is playing before the scan button automatically moves to the next station. Sometimes you get lucky and it comes back around to the same song and you have finally figured it out.

Or the theme game – turn on the radio, whatever station, whatever song – that is the beginning. So the song is ‘If you think I’m Sexy” by Rod Stewart. Allow the whole song to play, because the theme might be in the title, the lyrics, the music, the artist, etc. – so they must be given a chance to hear the lyrics – choose your theme wisely – I’m going to choose ‘guys who have worn spandex’ as my theme. Then you must scan til you come up with another song that fits the theme – then listen til the end – again scan til you come up with another, etc. – until someone guesses the theme. The songs you skip can be as big a clue as the ones you stay on. My oldest hates this game at times, because sometimes she has to listen to music that ‘sucks’ – like in this case, I would have had to stop on any Rolling Stones, because Mick has been known to be seen in spandex – and she hates the Stones (poor dear, I must have dropped her on her head) – although, she would also have the opportunity for me to stop on The Who (Pete I’m sure has been in spandex, and probably Roger also) and she loves The Who. I would of course skip any women, Garth Brooks, or I would say just about any country, most rappers, and definitely Green Day, etc. This game is good for VERY long drives, and half music saavy kids – not for kindergartners – much better for them after you have drilled them with lots of rock history and demanded that they learn all the lyrics to every Beatles song and that they can at least fake some simple syncopated clapping/snapping etc.

over 1000

well, Barry Bonds is in the news for his new numbers, and so is Alex Rodgriguez, so I think that I will let you all know that I have broken a big number too. I have had over 1000 hits on my page. Well it probably happened awhile back because I didn't put a counter up for the first couple of years, but I also didn't put up many posts then either. Still, I only get a few comments, perhaps I am not controversial enough - though when I do write something passionate and controversial, it usually doesn't get any comments (I think my blog-"friends" probably all disagree with me and don't want to hurt my feelings, which is really sweet of them and I appreciate that). So maybe I'm too whiney - although I generally try to present the funny side of whiney? -- well anyhow, I actually think it's that I keep getting found by people who don't actually speak English and also, I'm pretty certain that a pretty high percentage of that 1000 is me... my address at work changes daily so I can't have it not counted.

Anyhow, I just read a great post over at Wiping up Snot - well actually it was written by Karly and posted here, those of you who homeschool (or have an interest in the choices people make about their kids' education) should check it out - and the comments, because they are very thought provoking. Also over at Never a Dull Moment comes this gem, not sure if I can somehow justify that being 'favorite parenting comment of the week' though, I am tempted.

And just a few things I am excited about, we managed to find a free weekend to get away, and we are going to do just that - the whole family, imagine! The boy is playing Quarterback (he'll be so much easier to spot and watch now!). My girls helped me at an event for work yesterday and they made me SO PROUD they were amazing and mature and worked their asses off - it made me really happy. Oh, and oldest has a date tomorrow with what appears to be a very nice boy - (I told my mom, I have very little information to make this judgement so if it turns out he's an asshole don't hold me to this early review). Youngest will test for pointe this week (again) and she is certain that she will make it this time, so we will be off to Boulder (yes we really live that close to someplace famous) to buy pointe shoes - and oldest lost her glasses at the water park the other day (she never loses anything so I'm not really angry at all) and now we will have to add those twelve appointments to the agenda - like I'm not busy enough.