Digital Effluvia

The Seedy Underbelly of the Swap Meet-- How Tasty!

2009-02-15T22:10:00.002-05:00

I have been to some pretty frightening swap meets in my lifetime. I have no, repeat NO interest in walking around a parking lot, looking at other people's castoffs, but USMCMan seems to have a genetic imbalance that drives him to seek out and wander swap meets across the country. (NOTE: This genetic imbalance comes from his mother, who is the Queen of the Dollar Stores and Flea Markets. In fact, she takes buses of fellow seniors on tours of flea markets in PA. Truth!) Thus it was that USMCMan, Thing1, Thing2, and I were headed to the Oceanside, CA swap meet.

Some swap meets have themes. Some are known for permanant structures and long-time residential vendors. For example, the High-Desert area of Yucca Valley, CA has a swap meet that features an 'unwashed jeans' vendor. This means that all jeans that he sells are foul beyond belief, full of true, American stink. What doesn't sell at the swap meet is Ebayed to Japan by the crate. Nasty? Yes. Yet, it must work for him since he's been in the same stall, selling crappy old jeans since before the Civil War.

The Oceanside swap meet is at the site of a former drive-in movie theater. It's really huge. It is also 98% Hispanic. As we walked in, I had a vague urge to search for my passport. It really was like going to Tijuana-- everyone talking Spanish, Mexican soccer jerseys flapping from stalls, the smell of Mexican food wafting from the food area. We walked up and down the aisles, staring at the oddities: thousands of bras in piles (how would you know if it fit?), bins of thong underwear, millions of used tools, mariachi band CDs, and pile after pile of used clothing. It was really crazy!

Then I began noticing people carrying bags of wheel-shaped chip thingies. The bags were about the size of a standard Dorito bag, but clear plastic. The tops were cut off and adults and kids were munching. The funny thing was that some bags were splattered on the inside with red goop. Of course, I had to find out what was going on, so I started watching for people with full bags. Full bag = vendor nearby! I finally found a food tent with hundreds of the bags all piled upon tables. People would buy the bag (flour-based chips), cut off the top with the vendor's scissors (many pairs available) and then grab spray bottles and squirt inside the bag. I discovered that the bottles had lime juice or lemon juice in them. Then, the customer would grab a bottle of liquid: hot sauce or sweet/sour and squirt happily into the bag. Off they'd go, munching the "Durito". It was a similar combination to the chicharrones (pork rinds) that are flavored with lime/chili or the Cheetos flavored the same way. But do-it-yourself. How cool! Little kids were getting plain bags. Maybe a little sweet & sour. Adults were snurfing the hot sauce.

I couldn't stand it. I bought a bag, cut the top off, squirted the lime spray inside, and glooped in hot sauce (but only on one side). YUM! Really good and tasty. Later in the day, they weren't so tasty-- they got a little mushy and stale-- but still very different. I'll have to admit it. The swap meet wasn't so bad because I got to try a new experience. I think I'll go back with The Illustrated Librarian and DecoyDuck so they can experience the seedy underbelly with me!

Just Can't Say No...

2009-02-10T13:41:00.004-05:00

Somehow, I seem to get sucked into "projects". Usually, they're for a good cause... support the library, support the school, support the homeless muskrats. Whatever.

This time, it's SCHOLASTIC BOOK FAIR.

I have a deep and abiding hatred for fundraising. My version of HELL is going door-to-door selling ginsu knives and crappy magazine subscriptions. I understand the need for it, especially since we're now living in California, The Land of the Unbalanced and Bloated Budget. However, times are hard, and people need to cut back on spending and that includes buying stuff they don't need. The question is: at what point does spending money on necessary items become a priority to the point where you have to say NO to fundraisers that may benefit you or your family?

IE.---I love Girl Scout cookies. Who doesn't? Mmmmm. Thin mints... However, at $4/box, for 10 or so tiny cookies, they aren't a bargain. Is it time to start saying NO THANKS to the Girl Scouts? I know they need the money for projects and events. I like the Girl Scouts. I like their cookies. I may have to say NO to both. I don't want to, but I may have to JUST SAY NO.

Back to Scholastic Book Fair. I am now the chair for this event at our school. Yea for me. (IDIOT!) However, it is going to be difficult for me to say "buy these books with your hard-earned cash" when I know full well that people are scraping by. Does buying a book benefit the kid/family? Yes. Does it benefit the school? Yes. More so than buying a box of Thin Mints which will put lard on your butt. And yet, it is still solicitation, fundraising, money begging... whatever you want to call it. It is a tough job in these economic times. I'm not entirely happy I'm doing it and I'm wishing I had another option. Can't the kids just Ebay their kidneys for the school?

Thinking about this makes me crabby. I'm going to my freezer now. I'm looking to see if any of LAST YEAR'S financially guilt-free Thin Mints are left...

Exploding Purses and a Proposed BAN on Backer-Uppers

2008-03-08T20:58:00.004-05:00

This first part has nothing at all to do with the second part of my blog, but I had to share. I was in the Commissary (military grocery store) when my purse EXPLODED! Actually, the strap snapped, but because there was metal and bits of attachment gear involved, pieces-parts went flying everywhere! My purse dropped to the floor and things spilled out, of course, so passers-by were helping me retrieve my crap. Picture me and three Marines all scooting around on the floor trying to pick up keys, Kleenex packs, chapstick, and pens. (Thank goodness my Tampons were in a zipped side purse!) The funniest thing is that when it happened, I was standing near the produce section, next to a huge bin of avocados, and think part of my purse strap is STILL in the avocados. Maybe someone will find it by Cinco de Mayo?

Now, on to my latest rant about...

People Who INSIST On Backing Their Cars Into Parking Spaces.

AKA. -- EVILDOERS.

Just like the crazy people in the public libraries are never 90lb weaklings (they're always 350lbs of crazy-man-musclefat), the people who always back their cars into parking spaces are those who drive SUVs and bigass vehicles. They take FOREVER to go back...and forth...pull out...and go back... trying to wedge their leviathan into the space. Why not just go IN FORWARDS? What is the attraction with BACKING IN??? Does it get you in/out of the spot any faster, in the long run? NO! Because you took 2 hours getting INTO the spot in the first place!!! Is it any safer? NO! Because you're blocking and impeding the traffic while maneuvering into the spot and most likely dinging the doors of the person you end up parking too close to!!!

I am irked by backer-uppers. Why do they do it? Anyone? Any backer-uppers willing to spill your guts and explain yourself?

At Last-- Someone Defends the Public Employee

2008-01-09T20:57:00.000-05:00

It's rare that people stick up for a person who's in a public job. Having been yelled at, verbally abused, and physically threatened in my many public library jobs, I can always appreciate the plight of the worker bee. SITUATION: You're stuck working with the public, which might not be as bad as, say, being Brittney Spears' personal assistant ("Um, Brit, I don't think that's a good idea, either..."), but it's never 100% pleasant. Remember the "My tax dollars pay your salary!" line? That one usually comes right after you've denied an outrageous demand.

I was in the commissary (read: grocery store) shopping with Thing2. We had just 4 items, so we got in line at the Express Lane. It wasn't moving very fast, and as I walked up, I got a sense that the female checker and the old (retired) dude at the head of the line had been having "words" about something. Or rather, he'd been bitching at her. I didn't hear any of the verbal abuse or what had preceded it. I just knew that there had been Big Trouble moments before I walked up. (Thing2 was oblivious to everything, which is always for the better.)

Between me and grumpy old turd was a young Marine, paying for a ginormous sandwich from the deli -- his lunch. He was looking rather annoyed and flushed, becoming more and more so as I watched. The checkout clerk finished the transaction, said, "I'm sorry I had to re-ring your sale, but it was the only way to clear the problem." Grumpy just grunted rudely and took two steps past the lane to peruse his receipt-- making sure she knew he was double-checking her work.

Apparently, whatever the old goat had been bitching about had been way out of line, because after his sandwich was rung up and paid for, the young Marine stepped over to the guy and began chastising him! He used phrases like: you should be ashamed of yourself, that was uncalled for, and if you don't like shopping here, go someplace else and stop abusing the workers! He'd been there for the whole thing and obviously decided that it was time to take action.

WOOOOOO! Someone steps up and defends the defenseless!

As always, I'm unable to keep my yap shut, and I commended the Marine with a loud, "good for you!" Not one to be left out of anything, Thing2 began applauding--she still had no idea what was going on, but she was determined to clap anyway. Old grumpy turd gave everyone the stink-eye and skulked away without another word. Bastard!

It was nice to see someone sticking up for the service worker, for once. I hope someone sticks up for YOU if you're getting crap from some grumpy idiot.

Getting Ready for Christmas... Need Screwdriver NOW!

2007-12-24T19:17:00.000-05:00

My beloved friend, The Illustrated Librarian, is wonderful, intelligent, lovely, and INSANE. She drop-shipped me an enormous box for Thing2's Christmas gift. Does TIL spoil me an my kids? Yes she does! Do I love her to bits? You betcha I do!

"It's the SHIT!" she shrieked enthusiastically over the phone to me. "She's going to go CRAZY over this!"

Once the box was delivered, and I pulled out the gift, it crossed my mind that -I- was the only one who was going to go crazy... putting this damn thing together.

Let me introduce you to the Disney Princess Vanity Table. Pink, pink, pink. And more pink. *See Picture #1* I opened the box and the vanity was in 3 trillion pieces, each one carefully wrapped in tissue paper. A tiny note complaining about carpal tunnel syndrome, written in Chinese, accompanied the package of screws and tiny parts. UGH! I was prepared for the worst. I didn't even have a glass of wine prior to beginning my put-together session. (Yes, I know, it's the End of Days.) I sat down and carefully pulled out all parts and then opened the INSTRUCTION BOOKLET. Not a page. A BOOKLET. *See Picture #2*

I really couldn't see how Picture #1 could be obtained from the parts in Picture #2. No. No. No.

All the instuctions were pictographs. No words. You must have to supply your own, including curse words. Part A, B, C, ... you get the picture. I started matching parts to letters, suddenly realizing the GENIUS of the Chinese manufacturing company: each piece identified by letter in the instruction booklet had the matching letter molded into the inside of the part! Ie., part A had a plastic A on it! Wooooooopeeeee! No guessing, no comparing parts, hoping you've picked up part C and not part Q. Each part was labeled.

From then on, it took me only 30 minutes to put together the table. Easy! All the parts were there, each one fit, and it worked perfectly. All Thing2 has to do is unwrap and play with it. If TIL's ears were burning at the beginning of the process--as I used a few choice words--then her heart was glowing with praise when I finished. TIL is right. It IS the shit. Thing2 is going to go bonkers. Once again, TIL comes through with the coolest gift.

XOXO, TIL!

Keep Your Feet Covered, Hobbit-Boys!

2007-12-01T18:57:00.000-05:00

I'm all for comfort. I enjoy not wearing high heels. I relish the soft cushion of sneakers or flats-- makes me and my tootsies happy.

However... there are some people who take comfort to a new level of low. Wearing flip-flops (and sandals!) in WINTER. These people, no matter what the temperature, can be seen flop*flop*flopping around in stores, at the gas station, and (gak!) in the grocery store. Someone call 'Fashion 911'!

BURN THE FLIP FLOPS! BURN THEM, I SAY!

Summer feet are happy, sun-kissed, manicured feet. Winter feet are gnarled, hairy, scaley, NASTY CREATURES that should be kept decently wrapped up like mummies in socks and shoes. Men, especially, should NOT be revealing their winter feet, unless their winter feet are spending the winter in a warm beach location in the southern hemisphere. NOTE: NC in December is not so warm, yet is overrun with hairy, nasty feet in flip-flops. Why?

Why, when all else on your body is reasonably groomed, why would you expose the masses to your personal horror show? Maybe it is just a general degeneration of decency. All I can hope for is about 12 inches of snow to get all of those gruesome tooties packed back into their woolie prisons. SHUDDER!

Eat the Eclair...Or Fall Asleep?

2007-11-26T19:56:00.000-05:00

I found this old video clip today. It is of Thing2 at dinner. We'd given her half of an eclair and although she was exhausted and really needed to be put to bed, she was determined to eat the darned thing. Wouldn't want to give up a prize like that, right?

Valiantly, she fights the siren song of sleep, struggling to stuff every bit of chocolatey goodness into her mouth...

Mean, Mean, Oh Yes, I'm MEAN! Evil Toys, Anyone?

2007-10-02T20:29:00.000-04:00

I've discovered that one of the best ways to annoy, 'get back' at, or completely piss someone off is to purchase a completely inappropriate toy for their child. Especially a toy that the child loves, plays loud music or annoying noises, and has no OFF button.

Heh.

My brother (the village idiot) and his wife (the village idiot's keeper) have an almost-2 year old son. My goal for his birthday this year is to completely send them both around the bend by purchasing the above Hummer toy. It moves with a touch of a button (easy enough for a 2 year old) and plays, LOUDLY either 'YMCA' or 'CAN'T TOUCH THIS' while bouncing up and down like a monkey on crack. Can you stand it??? I'm in hysterics just thinking about it.

I'm sure my nephew will adore it and I'm sure his parents will hate it. Ah. Bliss.

Does anyone have any other suggestions for EVIL TOYS?

Mental Block

2007-09-27T16:51:00.000-04:00

I'm usually a very organized person. I make to-do lists, crossing off my accomplishments. I like my books organized by author and even in order of series publication. I even love French beans because they are so orderly (they line up in the pan in little neat rows). Yes, this is admittedly over-organized, but it helps me keep on track and focused.

Why, oh WHY then can I not organize my recipes? I have a box of home-recipes that I use, collected from friends and family over the years, and I just CANNOT get myself to sit down and put them in order. They're crammed higgeldy-piggledy into a too-small box and I always have to take everything out and paw through piles of cards and clippings to find what I want.

I even have THREE empty card files ready to hold my 'organized' recipes... but I just can't get myself to organize them. CAN NOT DO IT!

Why is this? I have my medicine cabinet all managed. My soup cans are stacked neatly. My spices are (mostly) in alphabetical order. What is my issue with organizing my recipe cards?

I'm drawing a blank here. Any thoughts? Suggestions? Comments? Recipes you'd like to give me?

Beware the Bumble Bar!

2007-09-20T11:37:00.000-04:00

I try to eat healthy... but every once in a while, I find a 'healthy' product that just ISN'T HEALTHY.

Take-- the BUMBLE BAR.

It has flax seeds in it, which are touted to have health benefits. It also is gluten-free and sugar-free. Wheat-free and dairy-free, too. It has a butt-load of sesame seeds, though. Two butt-loads, really.

What you're left with, is a SEEDY, high-calorie, high-fat, low-fiber nightmare.

How did I get intimately acquainted with the Bumble Bar? My friend's mom is a health-food champion and she mailed out 3 cases of Bumble Bars to my friend. That's over 300 of the dreaded Bumble Bars. Desperate to pawn off the bars, my friend begged me to take some. 'Some' translated into '40. Various flavors, various levels of seedy hell.

Once you bite into a bumble bar, say good-bye to clean teeth. The seeds become wedged into every crevice. (Like a bad case of parsley-teeth.) Bumble bars are also dangerous for your fillings. They taste like you're eating something stolen from the bird's feeding dish. And, by the way, stay near a bathroom for several hours after eating a Bumble Bar. One exit. No waiting.

Thus, I am now considering mailing my Bumble Bars to: all annoying family members, Osama Bin Laden, and the RNP headquarters. They're all very deserving of a Bumble Bar -- or two.

Pay Your Library Fine, Cheap Bastards!

2007-09-14T15:24:00.000-04:00

I always choose the wrong line.

Grocery store, movie queue, whatever. It's always the one with the FREAK in it who is complaining or paying with a German bond or something wierd.

Today, it was a trip to the library that landed me behind the nutty old fart who refused to pay his fine, yet seemed to think he was entitled to check out multiple new DVDs.

After standing for 10 minutes, listening to him wrangle with the desk clerk (who was holding her own very politely -- good for you, hon!), I started to get REALLY PEEVED. It's one thing to dispute a fine, but this guy had multiple fines from multiple episodes/items and he just didn't feel that he was interested in paying.

I began my LOUD SIGHING. "Huuuuuuuuuunh." "Wheeeeeeeeeewwwww." Guaranteed to be really, really annoying and patented by my (deceased) evil grandmother. I learn from the best. So I begin my noisemaking and finally the old bastard turns around and says to me,

"Do you need something?" To which I smile evilly and reply, "Yes, I need you to stop being a cheapo and pay your bill so I can check out my books!"

He just looked at me like he couldn't believe what his fur-sprouting little ears had told him. There were several people behind me in line, and they must have looked like they were willing to back me up in the upcoming beatdown because Cheapo just left his DVDs on the counter and stalked out.

My work is here is done.

Snark.

2007-08-29T09:10:00.000-04:00

Have 'thank-you' notes gone out of style? Is a telephone call offering appreciation now considered dated? I must be one of the last folks to say BRING BACK GOOD MANNERS!

Do I sound like a frenzied Ms. Manners?

Three weeks ago, I mailed off two boxes: one to a relative, one to a daughter of my mom's friend. Inside those boxes were nice, clean, gently-used clothes and books. Within days of mailing out both boxes, the daughter (a woman I've met only once, but like very much) emailed me a long note thanking me for my troubles and chatting on about how the items would be used. I appreciated the email; it told me that my box had made it to its destination and that the items were wanted and needed.

My relative has not contacted me in any way.

I have grumbled about this to The Illustrated Librarian. She agrees with me in that this relative and his wife are not deserving of any more boxes. To quote TIL, "Fuck them!" (I can always count on TIL to give me an honest opinion! XOXO.) This was not a box of cheap crap. It was filled with expensive clothing and books.

This is not the first time gifts to these ingrates have gone without thanks. I am also including birthday and Christmas gifts in my list of grumbles. As far as I'm concerned, these folks are now persona non grata on my gift-giving list. Just like Pete Rose, they're banned for life.

It's not that I expect them to grovel and kiss my hand for sending them a box of stuff. I would just like an acknowledgment of my time and efforts spent putting it together and mailing it to them. Or just a 'heads up' that the items arrived. Something. ANYTHING. If they no longer want boxes sent to them, they should let me know that as well.

Am I being too much of a snark about this?

He Broke It-- I Bought It-- They Freaked Out!

2007-08-20T16:22:00.000-04:00

While shopping today with Thing1 and Thing2, I spied a new display of nifty Hallow'een decorations. (You all KNOW how I love Hallow'een!) Not the typical bunch of Precious Moments-type decorations, these were interesting and different. I was particularly enthralled with a large skull designed with a Day of The Dead motif. Very unusual (odd?) for North Carolina and probably why it hadn't been purchased last season.

I turned for two seconds to pick up the skull and heard an ear-splitting *SMASH!!!* and a loud "GULP!". Thing1 had picked up a Hallow'een snow globe, conveniently displayed at child-level, and he dropped it. Yes, it was an accident, but he knows better than to touch breakables in a store. I was NOT pleased.

There was a clerk near by and I told her that, "Of course, I plan on paying for this." She looked surprised and went off to get a mop and a bucket. Clean up on aisle 12! I began picking up pieces of glass and Thing1 burst into tears. The clerk returned and I assisted her in cleaning up the mess, just keeping the globe's base (Look, honey! It's also a music box that plays 'Phantom of the Opera'!) because the SKU and price were listed there. As we finished as best we could, the clerk turned to me and said,

"I'm surprised that you helped and that you're actually going to pay for this. Most people just walk away."

I couldn't believe it! Now, I'm no saint, but I believe in the you-broke-it, you-buy-it philosophy of shopping. My kid is my responsibility and therefore his breakages are my problem. Apparently, this is NOT the norm anymore. People just break things in stores and walk away. How depressing! How sad! Again, when I got to the checkout, the checkout clerk said, "I'm really surprised you're paying for this." I just smiled (grimly) and paid for my new convertible snow globe (and the skull, of course!).

Do I seem the criminal type? The smash and run sort? Am I being naive?

PS. Thing1 will be working off his debt.

Toxic Movie Relationships

2007-08-17T13:13:00.000-04:00

There are certain movies I can't help but watch. Even if they are 20 minutes away from the closing credits, I'll focus my attention on them and get sucked in to the story.

These are NOT award winners.

These aren't even good movies!

These movies are awful and sucky and have some major plot problems.

I can't help it. They suck me into their vortex of mediocrity every time.

Maybe I need an intervention? Should I start a survivor's group?

The horrible, no-good movies are:

"Meet Joe Black" starring Sir Anthony Hopkins and Brad Pitt

"City of Angels" starring Nicholas Cage and Meg Ryan

Unfortunately for me, they were BOTH showing on AMC this week, and I happened to flip channels... saw the movie... paused in fascinated horror... and into the vortex I go. By the end of both movies, I'm sniffling and sobbing into a tattered Kleenex and feeling my nose turn pink and unattractive. WHY, OH WHY? "Meet Joe Black" is way too long and Brad Pitt's self-absorbed acting isn't augmented by his stunning good looks. "City of Angels" has (ugh!) Meg Ryan and Nic Cage isn't my type at all, although I enjoy his acting most of the time.

Do you have an AWFUL MOVIE ADMISSION? Is there a truly crappy movie that you just can't help but watch, over and over? Is is just ME?????

Ponderous Pumpkin Plant!

2007-08-15T13:30:00.000-04:00

About 3 months ago, we germinated a (1) (uno) (ein) pumpkin seed in a little peat pot. It sprouted and eventually I planted it in a patch of dirt next to the garage.

We now have a killer pumpkin vine that seems intent upon encircling the known world. It's HUGE! Feed me, Seymour...

It has encircled the garden area TWICE (I keep looping it around to the left to keep it from expanding out into the driveway or the sidewalk) and is now going UP into the giant gardinia bush. UP!?!?! I think that if I uncurled it, the darn thing would measure out over 25 feet! It's the kraken of pumpkin vines!

We're getting lots of blossoms, but haven't seen any pumpkins forming yet. I need to look this up because I'm not sure if every blossom is a potential pumpkin or if the plant just puts out a few pumpkins at opportune blossoms on the plant. It's a 'Cinderella Pumpkin', if that helps anyone out who is interested in giving me a hint as to how to get some fruit started... Help!

Note: I just looked up the following information because YES, I AM A LIBRARIAN, DARN IT!

Q. The first flowers that appeared on my pumpkin plants did not form fruits. Why not?
A. This condition is natural for cucurbits (such as cucumber, gourd, muskmelon, pumpkin, squash and watermelon). The first flowers are almost always male. The pollen on these first male flowers attracts bees and alerts them to the location of the blooming vines. By the time the first female blossoms open, the bees' route is well established and the male flowers' pollen is transferred to the female flowers by the bees. Male flowers bloom for one day, then drop off the plants. The male flowers may predominate under certain conditions, especially early in the season, or under certain kinds of stress. The small fruits, visible at the bases of the female flowers, identify them. There is no swelling on the bases of the male flower stems.

Ok. That seems to answer the question about why so many of the flowers have just fizzled out. I'll have to go out and frisk the vine for fruits. (Is that legal in NC?)

The temperature is over 100 degrees F today. Bleah. The pumpkin seems to like it, though! Rock on, GodzillaPumpkin!

Summer Travel Woes and a Few Good Books.

2007-08-14T14:46:00.000-04:00

It's been a long, loooooong summer. I'm beginning to realize why my mother always looked so damn happy to see the school bus arrive at the bottom of our driveway every year. I'm beginning to feel the same way -- get those kids back to school! I'm tired of MY kids, my NEIGHBOR'S kids, and just about EVERYONE'S kids. Back to school with you all, hellspawn!

I haven't blogged much at all, because I just haven't had the energy and sometimes I wonder if anyone ever reads the drivel that I'm writing... but who cares, right? That's why this is called digital effluvia! Just the flotsam and jetsam of my everyday life, online.

The best part of summer, so far, was my trip to Michigan to visit family and friends. We even did 2 days in Chicago and crammed in as much of the Museum of Science and Industry and the Shedd Aquarium as was humanly possible with two young children. Chicago is a great city, by the way, I highly recommend visiting. Wonderful museums, shows, and shopping. I would guess that the restaurants are superb, but again, with two small children, we didn't have the time to explore fine dining.

The WORST part of the summer (and pretty much all of 2007 to date) was getting to Michigan.

(AirportMan and ArmyGuy, don't take the following pithy comments wrong... they have nothing whatsoever to do with YOUR airport!)

Face it. Travelling is difficult. Flying sucks. Flying with two small children? Just take a big, steaming poop on me and get my misery over with, OK?

Going to Michigan was awful. We arrived at the airport too early, the flight was delayed by two hours getting in (the airlines - Delta - sent the plane to ANOTHER AIRPORT and then made it take off and finally come to my airport... how crazy is that?) then my cushy layover in Atlanta was completely eradicated. We RAN LIKE MAD DOGS through the Atlanta airport only to arrive at our gate and find that not only had the plane NOT taken off on time, it, too, was delayed by an hour! Then we sat on the runway for 40 minutes waiting to have permission to fly north. When that flight took off, we got to Michigan only to have to circle the airport because there was a storm! Another 30 minutes. Oh by the way, the kids were insane by the time we reached Michigan and my stupid DVD player broke and was useless for the entire trip.

Not only were our flights delayed going, but Delta (my new winner for worst airline... congrats, Northwest, you're now the second crappiest airline!) cancelled our flights after we checked in on our return day! Have you ever tried to extricate your luggage from TSA once it has been checked? YEARCHGGGG! After being paged while in the bathroom (fun? not!) and rushing back to the check-in counter, told our flight was KO'd due to mechanical troubles and we had NO CHANCE of making any of our other connection options, we had to arm-wrestle our bags back from Lansing Airport's TSA, then had to drive the hour back to my parents' house. Next morning at 4am, we had to get up and go back to the airport to do it all over again. Oh yes, we also got one additional flight just to make our return perfect. Double fun was when I got home and realized that Lansing TSA had jacked my luggage zipper out of whack and I couldn't unzip the zipper more than 15 inches. Note: some clothes require more than 15 inches of zipper to get out of the bag. Grrrrr! New bag, fucked-up zipper. (I did take the bag to a repair shop and they managed to wrangle the zipper into some semblance of order, but the zipper is NOT the same nor will it ever be again. It is a disaster waiting to happen. Yes, I plan on filing a TSA report to get my $10 repair fee back, but face it: the bag is not anywhere close to the nice perfection that it was when I left it with TSA in Lansing.)

Other than my flying "issues", the summer has been hot, long, and humid. I have gotten some reading done, and enjoyed finishing the last Harry Potter as well as reading the newest Laurell K. Hamilton -- 'The Harlequin'. I also read 'Truck: a Love Story' by Michael Perry, which was funny and reminded me of my small hometown. Two thumbs way up! I saw a few movies and went to a few shows/plays, so I feel like I'm attempting to expand my cultural horizons.

Maybe it's time to just bring on the Fall. Shut down the pools, put away the tank tops and swim suits, and bring out the fleece jackets and snuggly throw blankets. No more travelling for me for a while, and that suits me just fine.

Aaaargh! My Pirate Name Is...

2007-06-26T13:50:00.000-04:00

I saw the "pirate name quiz" on The Illustrated Librarian's blog, and just had to give it a try. As a librarian, my name was quite apropos, don't you think?

My pirate name is:

Captain Bess Read

Even though there's no legal rank on a pirate ship, everyone recognizes you're the one in charge. Even through many pirates have a reputation for not being the brightest souls on earth, you defy the sterotypes. You've got taste and education. Arr!

Get your own pirate name from piratequiz.com.
part of the fidius.org network

Time Suck -- Not On MY Watch (hee hee!)

2007-05-01T09:23:00.000-04:00

Do you hear that sound? Like an approaching plague of locusts? It's my in-laws preparing to descend upon us for yet ANOTHER uninvited stopover on their migration back to the northeren climes. Aack.

I'm not going to complain about their impending 'visit-o-doom' because you've heard it all before ad nauseum. Instead, I'm going to pose a question for you all...

Given: that they are unsure of their arrival time this upcoming Friday... Should I be required to sit at home, twiddling my thumbs and waiting for them when I could be doing something productive and necessary, like going to the gym?

I feel that since they don't know exactly when they'll be arriving, that I am justified in making my usual Friday afternoon trip to the gym (and putting Thing2 in daycare). When I told my M-I-L that I might not be home when they arrived, but would be home at or before a certain time -- just a two-hour span of being gone -- I got this big silence. I quickly reassured her that she could use the key to get in and they could unload and relax; Thing2 and I would be back in a reasonable amount of time. (This assumes that they will be arriving during the two-hour span that I go to the gym. Given their past track record, this is EXACTLY when they will arrive.)

Now. I ask you. Am I being unreasonable? Am I being mean?

I just don't feel that I should have to sit and twiddle my thumbs and wait for them to arrive whenever, when I could be burning off calories and stress at the gym and Thing2 could be having a fun time playing with the other incarcerated kids at daycare. USMCMan gave me a funny look when I told him of the plan, but then I reminded him that HE could leave work and come home and wait for them if he wanted to... which shut him up lickety-split. It's not as if I'm making them wait in the car for us to get home and unlock the house or sit at a McDonald's until we return.

What do you think?

It's Yummy AND Biggesy!

2007-04-29T20:14:00.000-04:00

I just LOVE Japanese candy and cookies. They're all so neat and tidy; everything nicely wrapped or in its own compartment.

One odd thing about Japanese products is, that for all the Japanese excell at packaging and presentation, their spelling on American exports is atrocious! Hilariously so. Take my 'Yan Yan' cookie, for example. Thing2 and I were enjoying dipping our not-too-sweet cookie sticks in the strawberry icing while at the same time looking at the animals on the cookie and the 'saying' about the animal. Usually, it would be an animal fact. ie. SHEEP -- THICK WOOL. SQUID -- BLACK INK. Then we got to the whale.

Hee hee! WHALE -- BIGGESY MAMMAL. I love it! Cute picture, tasty cookie, nifty packaging, and grammatical error.

I know that there is a word to describe the process of Japanese speakers taking American English words and adding a Japanese language 'twist' to them to make the word or phrase more palatable -- can anyone tell me what it is? Maybe 'biggesy' is one of these words?

Just What the Young Ho' Needs...

2007-04-25T14:17:00.000-04:00

I'm pretty sure that extraterrestrials are watching our planet and wondering how such a stupid species as "humans" can continue to survive. Not only are we warlike and violent, but we're lazy, as well. As a group, we're content to allow consumerism to dictate our morals and set standards for our kids, and that's where we get the foul horror known as 'Baby Bratz'.

Thing2 will be turning 3 in July and so yesterday, I was happily scanning the aisles in Target, looking for some good ideas to pass on to the grandparents... "Hmmmm. Disney Princess dress-up shoes... Play-Doh... Polly Pockets... Prostitutes in a Box--WHAT THE F***?!!!!"

Yes, dear friends, there is a horror known as 'Baby Bratz', supposedly suitable for ages 3 and up. This doll looks like a pedophile's wet dream. A toddler/preschooler aged girl with heavy lipstick, slutty sloe-eyes, and exposed body. AAAACK! UGH! HORROR OF HORRORS! They look like cover models for a porn magazine. I'm surprised they don't come with Baby Bratz condoms!

Why do companies sell these types of toys? Why do parents buy them? I was truly nauseated. I think that girls have a hard enough time with image and sexual pressure as it is and along comes a stupid company (MGA ENTERTAINMENT) who is trying to set the slut-o-meter at 3 years old. I think this company's executive board should be put on the 'America's Most Wanted Pedophile List'. They're foul, money-grubbing perverts without a shred of good sense. The parents who purchase this for their kids should get a rap on the head with a brick and sent off to SexEd 101. HELL-O??? Don't you think your kid is going to try to emulate this look? Knock, knock, is anyone home in that stupid parent skull? HELL-O?

Thing2 will NOT be getting any Bratz or Baby Bratz -- EVER -- and no effing Barbies, either, if I can help it. I'd rather give her books or baseball bats. That's BATS, not BRATS.

Have you seen these slutty things? Give 'em a look next time you're in Target or Wallmart or a toy store and tell me what you think.

Dopey Boy Scout

2007-03-20T20:09:00.000-04:00

I'm glad that missing Boy Scout was located, unharmed, and returned to his family.

Now I can speak candidly...

How stupid are Boy Scouts these days if they wander off from their camp or group in the midst of a wilderness park? Where were this kid's supervisors? Is the concept of the Buddy System so outdated?

I think he should be demoted to 'Cub Scout' and made to perform 100 hours of community service for being so dumb and putting so many people through the wringer. He's old enough to know better -- and DO NOT give me that "he's got ADHD crap" as an excuse.

Perhaps the Boy Scouts would be better off camping with Girl Scouts? You never hear about the Girl Scouts getting lost or wandering off from camp. Apparently, SOMETHING is getting through to the girls that is NOT getting through to the boys.

I'm not sure about the Boy Scouts any more.

Do You Mind? YES!

2007-03-14T20:01:00.000-04:00

I always hate it when people start out with the phrase, "I hope you don't mind, but..."

It's pretty much guaranteed that I'm going to mind. It's also a done deal at this point, so why ask if I'm going to mind? The person is going to blather on no matter what, so dispense with the false pretenses.

For example, today I received a telephone call from a neighbor who discovered (gossip network at work) that I enjoy writing. Her call began with, "I hope you don't mind, but I'd like to ask you a few questions about getting published."

Um... Actually, I do mind. AACK! NOOOOO!

Undaunted by my silence, she nattered on with scores of basic questions about publishing a (romance) novel, most of which could have been answered by 15 minutes of GOOGLE searching. It took me 30 minutes to answer her questions and to encourage her to do some careful submission reasearch ON HER OWN before sending copies of her manuscript to 300 different publishers. If I had been thinking, I'd have billed her for 20 minutes of my time. Just like working as a freelance referencer or researcher.

Here are some other annoying starter phrases:

"To make a long story short..." (Trust me. It won't be.)
"Nobody asked me for my opinion, but..." (We didn't ask because we don't care.)
"Personally, I think..." (See above.)
"Just let me take a few minutes to..." (Um. NO!)
"My doctor says that I have/should/can't..." (Too much information, thanks.)

Do you have any annoying starter phrases to add to the list?

Survivor -- No Problem!

2007-03-02T13:11:00.000-05:00

On Thursday evenings, I have 90 minutes of peace and quiet. A veritable oasis of tranquility in my otherwise overscheduled life. Rugrats are abed and USMCMan is out kicking ass at his jujitsu dojo. Rock on, buddy.

I was pretty much wiped out and decided to treat myself to a beer (Shiner Bock out of TX, yum!) and some vegging out in front of the TV. *snick* open beer. *click* turn on tv to... 'Survivor -- Fiji'.

I have seen this show before and I'm pretty sure you have, too. The contestants, however, seem AMAZED that they are left on an island to starve, freeze, get sunburned, bug-bitten, or whatever. It's like they've never seen the previous God-knows-how-many versions of the show. "We're sooooo hungry!" "I don't know if I can take being away from my family!"

Wah.

Perhaps they should have watched Survivor reruns on USA Network? Hell-o!

So, I enjoyed my ice-cold beer and watched gaunt, starving nincompoops stagger around an obstacle course and root around in the mud for grubs and smushed pinapples to eat. Bliss!

They really need a librarian on 'Survivor'. We would first research a) how to make fire without flint/steel, b) how to find food in a tropical setting, and c) how to prepare food with minimum of supplies. Wouldn't you think these contestants would learn how to do that before being dropped off on a remote island? You'd THINK SO, but NOOOOOO! A librarian would also be a good schemer for the game and smart enough to put on the library "I'm looking polite and innofensive" face so as not to attract attention and get booted off the island too early. Do I think I could do well on 'Survivor'? Hell, yes! As long as I didn't have to wear a bikini (ick) and got my eyes lasiked so I didn't have to have glasses it would be a snap! Plus, I would consider 30 days away from my kids a luxury vacation, even if I DID have to pee in the woods.

Somebody call Jeff Probst and sign me up. Just let me finish my beer first.

Salsa, Stinky Pits, and Sean.

2007-02-28T21:00:00.000-05:00

It's been a while since I've blogged. There have been lots of tiny random things to talk about, but nothing major. I thought I'd jot down a few of them before I completely move into the March frame of mind...

Salsa does not float in the bath tub. In fact, the veggies immediately sink while the tomato sauce disperses into the water. The entire experience suggests that future Corona/salsa experiences should be attempted on dry land.

Men should not wear sleeveless t-shirts to the gym-- EVER. Face it, men smell bad when they exercise and the "open pit" option should be discouraged. That small bit of sleeve does wonders for odor absorption. I also think that men who wear sleeveless t-shirts at the gym are only showing off their arms for the other men. (The women could care less-- we only care about the smell.) NOTE TO MEN: COVER YOUR PITS, STINKERS!

Note to the guy with the sleeveless black shirt who persists on using the treadmill next to me every time I go to the gym: no matter how much AXE or DialBodyWashForMen you're using, it's still not covering up your stinky arm pits (see above). Go away.

Daniel Craig, the newest James Bond, is a hottie! Yum yum yum! I'm afraid he's taken second place in the "Who Is The Best James Bond" list. Following Sean Connery, of course. Please do not mention Roger Moore (nice hairpiece!) or George Lazenby (hot in a kilt, but couldn't act his way out of a box) in the same breath as Sean or Daniel. YumX2.

Ok. Those are some of my abbreviated ramblings. I'm hoping to get back on track for March and do more blogging. I'm off to a bingo game this weekend (charity), and I hope to clean up!

Does anyone have any hot plans for their weekend? Bingo must be tame in comparison...

Food Cretin.

2007-02-15T11:41:00.000-05:00

I'm not an over-the-top person on Valentine's Day. USMCman brings me a nice bottle of wine and a bottle of champagne. I make a special dessert for dinner. The rest is private.

This year, I made a three-chocolate pudding pie. It uses bittersweet, semi-sweet, and unsweetened chocolate. Lots of chocolate. It also has a chocolate graham crust. It was more of a mousse than a pudding, actually, but very rich and very yummy. I also whipped up some home-made whipped cream to top it off. Everyone was happy and we still have a few pieces left.

My neighbor asked me what we did for Valentine's Day. I told her that I made a pie for the family and that it was easy and quick--for a scratch dessert. Her reply: "Why didn't you just use Jell-O chocolate pudding and a box of Dream Whip? It would have been a lot easier and just as good!"

Oh. My. God. A food-cretin!

Please do not even THINK that powdered whip mix and pudding mixed together can taste anywhere near as fabulous as one pound of Scharffen Berger chocolate. Puh-leeze. I just looked at her and raised my eyebrows disapprovingly. She continued to go on and on about how she layers slices of banana in her pie (*double shudder*) and puts the spray whipped cream on top.

Gag.

I stayed quiet and she soon picked up on the "I'm disgusted with your chemical pie" vibes I was putting off. So she moved on to other, safer topics.

Oh well. Next time, I'll just give her one of those little conversation heart candies... the one that says EAT ME.

The Rule of Chaotic Convergence.

2007-02-06T19:40:00.001-05:00

I have a theory. Not a hypothesis or conjecture. This is a 'principle offered to explain a series of facts' type of theory. I call it:

The Rule of Chaotic Convergence.

It's pretty simple. It states that: Everything Must Happen All At Once, At The Worst Possible Time, Producing The Maximum Amount Of Chaos.

(I also like to put it all in caps, just so it looks cool and official and annoying.)

Here are general examples of the theory.

For example...you will wait around all day for the UPS truck with your important delivery, but the truck won't arrive until you're in the bathroom conducting MAJOR business. And it will require a signature.

For example...nobody will call on the telephone all day until just around the crucial moment for your dinner preparations. Then you will get several calls at once (one being a long-distance overseas communication) and your dinner will begin to burn despite your attempts to pay attention to your simmering process. And if you have kids or pets, they will choose that moment to invade the kitchen screaming and yelling and demanding dinner.

This type of thing happens to me all the time. I am now convinced that something about my aura/spirit/chi/energy draws elements of chaos to me and they all reach a critical mass moment at the same time, thus creating
The Rule of Chaotic Convergence.

What is it about me? How do I adapt to this? Oh, by the way, when I walk past light poles at night, they blink off. Nobody else. Just me. Do you think I have some sort of electromagnetic problem? Maybe I'm a HERO! and I don't even know it... just call me 'Chaos Magneta'.

Suggestions from the peanut gallery?

The Rule of Chaotic Convergence.

2007-02-06T19:40:00.000-05:00

Welcome to my dream of Okinawa...

2007-01-21T14:29:00.000-05:00

In the military, it's never too early to start thinking about your next move. Generally speaking, most military families move every three years; iin fact we were supposed to be Summer '07 movers ourselves, but we requested an extension so now we're Summer '08 movers.

I am hoping to go to Okinawa, Japan for our next military tour. Unlike the Army, Navy, and Air Force, the USMC has a very limited number of bases, most of them decidedly NON-EXOTIC. (I don't consider Beaufort, SC a fun option...) Usually, if you go to Japan, it is to one of the many US bases on Okinawa, or sometimes to the (mainland) Marine Corps Air Station at Iwakuni. Either choice would be fine by me. I love all things Asian, and would enjoy immersing myself in the culture.

And where else could I indulge my Hello Kitty fetish?

Most likely, if we are able to go to Japan, we'll know by early summer '07. It takes a while to get organized for an overseas tour and unlike a local move, you need to take the time to figure out the culture, language, and living options. (Driving on Okinawa is on the left-hand side of the road, so that will be an interesting drivers test. NO LEFT ON RED!)

Do you think I'm crazy for wanting to go so far away from home for three years? Who will come visit me? Free lodging and all the trips to the '100-yen Store' and the 'Make-Man' store you can take...

Laugh Out Loud Blog

2007-01-19T13:31:00.000-05:00

Thanks to my dear friend, Mrs. NO (no relation to the Dr.), I now have a new blog to visit.

Please visit crummychurchsigns.com for some of the funniest church signs I've seen, well, since the Church of the Illiterate Sinner's last offering. I particularly enjoy the 'WTF?' section of this blog -- it's a guaranteed laugh out loud!

Enjoy, and thanks again to Mrs. NO.

The Church of the Illiterate Sinner Strikes Again!

2007-01-17T12:23:00.000-05:00

I don't drive past the Church of the Illiterate Sinner as much as I used to since Thing1 is no longer attending the Montessori School that is located about a mile beyond it. Luckily for me, the local public library and Thing2's gym class are out that direction, so once a week, I get to check out the latest malapropisms and misspellings on the church's billboard. What fun!

The following has been on their sign for the past FOUR WEEKS.

"DON'T BE A HYPROCRITE!"

Yes... four weeks for everyone to see and enjoy. You'd think that someone in the congregation who could spell past a 3rd grade level might notice this problem, but nooooo.

I'm strongly tempted to spell-check their billboard with a big, red marker. DUH!

(with a bad French accent...) No Sleep. Day Thwee.

2007-01-16T19:31:00.000-05:00

I hope I live to see the day that someone invents a cure for the common cold. I would make a pilgrimage to that person's home to pay my respects in person. I would even consider sending them a nice thank-you note.

Unfortunately for me, today is not that day.

Thing2 has a nasty cold. Due to this cold, Thing2 hasn't slept for 2 nights and it doesn't look like tonight will be a winner, either. Cough*Cough*Cough! It's hard to hear her painful little gacking sounds because she doesn't understand WHY she's coughing, just that it hurts and she's exhausted.

In addition, I am DOOMED to get whatever she gets because she has been coughing all over my face. The term 'PLAGUE RAT' comes to mind.

In sum: I'm tired, cranky, starting to feel crappy, and mad at microscopic germs who couldn't care less about my problems.

I hope your week has been better!

WHY Stars and Bars? Explain It To The Damn Yankee!

2007-01-04T19:43:00.000-05:00

I stopped to get gas today and my car was at a pump behind a big truck with a HUGE Stars and Bars sticker on the back window. I cringed when I saw it. Shuddering, I wondered WHY anyone in this day and age would display that symbol with pride. To me, it symbolizes: intolerance, division, separation of our United States, and racism. Oh yes, also slavery, bigotry, and ignorance.

Then I pondered... while pumping my over-priced gasoline...

What do the Stars and Bars mean to Southerners? Who teaches their kids that this symbol is OK and something to promote with pride? Do the schools endorse it? Parents? Churches? I'm sure that not all the people wearing or displaying this flag are racist or intolerant or secessionists, so what's the scoop?

I was raised in Michigan and I'll tell you what, if you wore that flag within 300 miles of Detroit, you'd get beaten to a bloody smear. It never showed up EVER on clothing or as a bumper sticker, or as a flag or a poster anywhere that I recall. It's just not a Northern State thing.

So tell me, all you Southerners out there... what am I not understanding about this symbol of Southern pride? What do you see in it that I don't?

My BIG Find! SHARK TOOTH MANIA!

2006-12-26T19:29:00.000-05:00

Today USMCMan, Thing1 and Thing2, my parents, and I went to the beach. Yes, it is December 26th, but we all felt 25 pounds heavier from snurfing holiday food. Needed some fresh air and exercise and thought a walk on the beach shell-hunting would be nice.

Indeed!

Onslow Beach here at Camp Lejeune is known for its pristine condition and abundance of fun things to find: coral, shells, sea glass, and fossilized shark teeth. Usually the teeth are about 1/4 inch long and belong to long-dead sand sharks. Fun to find and I think we've got about 400 of them.

Today, however, I struck the MOTHER LOAD OF SHARKNESS! I found a 3.20 inch shark tooth! Wooooo! An ancestor of the great white and even the megalodon, this tooth is about 35 MILLION YEARS OLD-- if not older. How cool is THAT? (I apologize for typing in caps, but I'm still all excited and funked out.)

I was walking along and saw it sticking out of a sand berm. It didn't look like a shell...

IT WASN'T.

What do you think? Isn't it wild?

A Touch of WT Under the Tree.

2006-12-20T15:07:00.000-05:00

The Illustrated Librarian called me a few days ago, in all her states about wrapping paper.

Yes. Wrapping paper.

"We didn't buy any at the sales last year and so all I had left was white trash wrapping paper," she wailed.

To me, wrapping a gift in WT paper would indicate using tin foil (used) or perhaps a greasy newspaper. Note: A large offshoot of my maternal line is 100% WT, including moonshine, so I know these things first hand.

"Ummm. Ok." I managed to reply. I( couldn't really picture WT wrapping paper coming from a SoCal location.) When the box arrived, the gifts were wrapped as pictured above.

Is this WT to YOU? The "OPEN ME FIRST" paper was taken literally by Thing1--who can read very well--and who assumes any writing on a gift must be obeyed immediately. A brief scuffle ensued, I won, and the package remains unopened at this time.

What would WT wrapping be, other than tin foil or nasty newspaper? Any thoughts? HA!

By the way, nice wrap job, TIL! Merry Christmas!

The Librarian: Search For Dignity at the Gym.

2006-12-15T12:45:00.000-05:00

I was dutifully walking at high speed on the treadmill last night when one of my usual humiliations occurred...

THE SETUP: The treadmills at the gym are lined up in a long row facing about 6 TV monitors, each one playing a different channel (with subtitles for my viewing pleasure). Behind the row of treadmills is a row of eliptical machines and stairclimbers. On a level past and below the televisions is the free weight / machine weight floor area.

It's about 8pm and I'm walking briskly at a near jog-- sweaty and focused on not much of anything at all. The station I was located in front of (by random choice) was TBS and suddenly the words 'THE LIBRARIAN' popped up onto the screen. Yes, it was the start of that Noah Wiley made-for-TV-movie, 'The Librarian: Quest for the Spear'.

Mentally shrugging, I pretty much ignored it and continued walking. Suddenly, from behind me on the eliptical machines, I hear a snicker. Then several snickers. Then I hear someone say in a sotto voice, "And she's off to find her spear!" Hee hee.

The lightbulb clicked on above my sweaty head. I was wearing a T-shirt given to me by The Illustrated Librarian -- procured from a library conference. It read on the back: 'For the best information, ask your LIBRARIAN. '

I'd forgotten I was wearing it to work out in. There were four young Marines behind me who had obviously caught the title of the TV show and (since they didn't have much else to look at) read the T-shirt and thought the combination was hilarious. For whatever 21-year-old-boy reason. So they snickered and giggled and chortled until I finally finished my time and slowed to a stop.

I was doggoned if I would just let them mock me, so I gathered up my pride (sweaty and miniscule as it was at that point), and looked them right in the eyes, and smiled, "I'm the Special Forces librarian." With that bold-ass lie, I marched off to the squat machine for more torture.

I did notice that they gave me a wide berth after that. They either thought I was crazy, or telling the truth and might be able to mess with them.

Yet another big adventure for Infomatrix!

It's Back! Hysterics With the Hanukkah Box.

2006-12-09T20:36:00.000-05:00

My in-laws left five days ago after self-inviting for a long weekend visit. My blood pressure is only now just beginning to drop down to normal levels. I've kvetched about them in previous entries, so I won't repeat my ongoing issues. Instead, I'll tell you our TERRIBLE SECRET.

SHHHHH. DON'T TELL...

Every year, my in-laws send/bring down a huge box that is supposed to be opened on the first night of Hanukkah and one gift doled out to each member of the family. This is supposed to continue for 8 nights.

Every year, just as the tail-lights of my in-laws' car fade off into the distance, we gleefully, sinfully, and willfully RIP INTO the Hanukkah box in a frenzy of distain for their strict orders!

DISCLAIMER: My husband is Jewish. I am Episcopalian. We observe both holidays. Our kids are holiday-spoiled and religiously tolerant. Yet, I digress. Back to the story...

The box is always the same amalgamation of SHIT from the dollar store. Thirty-two poopy gifts. (Seriously. If my mother-in-law just flushed $50 down the toilet, she'd be getting better value for her money.) I always get: too-small socks, note cards with fat babies or simpering faeries, several pot holders (usually with an off-shade Christmas color involved), "dangly" earrings -ick-, an overstock cookbook, and a candle that is 76% magnesium and made in China and likely to catch my house on fire. USMCMan always gets: too-big boxers, too-big t-shirts/undershirts, and a "manly" suitcase organizer item. Thing1/Thing2 always get: end-run/overstock children's books, Hanukkah Harry comic books (!), inappropriate stale candy, too-big clothing bought at the end of the season on sale for mere pennies, and beanie baby bears wearing yarmulkes. Always the bears with the yarmulkes.

Every year, the box is ripped open early. Every year we laugh and complain and immediately throw half of the stuff away and take the rest to the second-hand resale shop. And a good time is had by all.

Let it not be said that new traditions aren't being started in MY household! Hah!

Do you have any 'sneaky' holiday traditions? Share! Come on... share! Just don't tell my in-laws our sneaky little holiday secret.

Giving in Gracefully--for the Most Part.

2006-12-08T09:33:00.000-05:00

Now that my insane in-laws have left (after almost killing Thing2 by leaving a bottle of HEART MEDICINE in a non-child-proof bottle on the floor... what 2 year old can resist playing with THAT? Idiots!) I feel the pressure of the Christmas season weighing down upon me.

I enjoy the decorations, but hate putting them up and taking them down.

Love eating the cookies and Christmas goodies, but never have time to make them.

Christmas cards? OH MY GOD, I FORGOT TO GET MY CARDS! Shit.

And, by the way, my oven is on the fritz, my husband is mad at me for some unknown reason and is giving me the 'silent treatment', and my kids need flu shots.

Lots of little things, pretty trivial all in all, but it is making me Grinchy.

Sometimes, I wish we could have a do-over on the month of December. First, the crazy, stressful month, and then we could have a redo and just relax and enjoy.

Am I the only one stressing out? Are you? Yes, I know I need to just surrender to the spirit of the month and just go with the flow, but it's very hard.

What are your tricks for having a relaxed December? I need any suggestions I can get!

Invasion of TERROR!

2006-11-27T20:08:00.000-05:00

Thanksgiving was pretty sedate. I like it that way! (See The Illustrated Librarian's latest blog entry for 'The Pajama Pact'.) Just me and my family and no guests or relatives. My blood pressure never rose at all and I enjoyed drinking wine while cooking and not having to worry about polite chit-chat or whether or not the guests had drinks...

That sense of calm will end some time on mid-Friday when my in-laws will descend upon our house in their bi-annual 'visit'. I use the word visit with reservations, since the word implies that an invitation was actually extended to them. (NOT.) They just tell us when they're migrating down to FL with the rest of the old farts from the Northeast, and show up.

As I get older and somewhat wiser, I've begun to realize that the best way to survive a visit by type-A relatives (as I always say, think: 'George Costanza's parents' and that pegs my in-laws) is to provide them with lots of opportunities to play with their grandkids -- while I go out -- and spend the rest of my enforced time with them in a state of inebriation.

I find that Chilean wines put me into a nice PM fugue. Any other wine suggestions?

I'll be sure to provide some of the more pithier moments as they occur. Countdown to Friday's invasion begins... NOW!

Can I Get a Pint of Blood to Go?

2006-11-17T13:51:00.000-05:00

I did my good deed for the day and went to the Naval Hospital to donate blood. Apparently, they're low on AB and that's me... so off I went to get siphoned.

As always, a big thanks to The Illustrated Librarian and ArmyGuy for showing me the blood donor ropes. The trick is, DON'T LOOK! It would have been nice to have TIL with me...putting on a distracting puppet show and making snide comments, but it wasn't in the cards.

Always suspicious, I asked the nurse to tell me just who was getting my fabulous AB+. I was reassured that my blood will only be given to armed forces active duty members stationed here or in Iraq or that the blood would go to the VA hospital for veterans. I'm happy about this because while I didn't mind giving to the Red Cross while living in CA, I always felt vaguely squeemish knowing that my blood would be re-sold to hospital customers and that it was always possible that someone having an elective procedure could get my blood.

Honey, my blood is too damn good to go to some bimbo getting a boob job.

If you can, please give blood!

Flushed With Success in the Public Can

2006-11-14T19:49:00.000-05:00

Yesterday, I went to a restaurant with USMCman and Thing2. A rare day, indeed! After eating lunch, I visited the restroom. There were two stalls, one occupied and I could hear the woman inside TALKING.

I assumed that she had a small child in the stall with her; there is a difficult stage between 2-ish and 6-ish where you just don't want to send your kid alone into a public bathroom. They might decide to stay inside for hours or bother other people. Said age span forces parents to take their child with them into the bathroom for both sanity and safety's sake.

I went into my stall and then realized by her LOUD talking that she was ON HER CELL PHONE WHILE SITTING ON THE TOILET! Honest to Pete, she was having some sort of business or social discussion!

At first I felt uncomfortable. "Oh, I'd better pee quietly!" crossed my mind. "I don't want the other person to hear me. "

How stupid is that? But that was my innate midwestern sense of privacy coming to the fore. Sadly enough for my childhood upbringing, I've lived around Marines for too long, and so... I got PISSED! (pun intended)

My sense of outrage and humor surfaced and I decided SCREW HER AND HER PHONE BUDDY TOO! If you're using a public restroom as your personal office space, you get what you get.

With that cheery thought in mind, I peed as loudly as possible and then flushed gleefully several times-- waiting for her to start speaking before I flushed so that she was forced to repeat herself. Hee hee! THEN, to make my bathroom visit complete, I washed my hands and ran the hand-dryer through three cycles. Gotta get your hands really, really dry, right? Hee hee! Childish? YES! Fun? HELL, YES!

Dear readers, have you ever seen people taking phone calls in the stalls before? Did you have fun whizzing on their conversations?

I Got Publicly SNIFFED!

2006-11-10T14:20:00.000-05:00

Last night I was at the USMC gym, working hard on the elliptical machine. Some Marine showed up on the machine to my left. I didn't pay much attention--it is a military base gym, after all!

After about 5 minutes of sweating along, I hear the guy sniff. "Sniff. Sniff. Sniiiiiiiiifffff."

I thought he had some allergy or some cold or guy-cootie thing. Again, I was following good gym etiquette and not trying to pay attention to the lithe, hot, muscular bod next to me. (Nothing to see...be good...keep eyes forward...)

One of the Marines on the floor dropped a heavy squat rack and the noise was LOUD. I made some sort of surprised sound and that (apparently) gave Mr. Sniffer license to chat with me!

He turned to me and said, " You smell good! I've been sniffing you!"

EEEEEEEEK!

I'd been working out for 15 minutes before he arrived. I didn't think I smelled very good at all. In fact, I was sweaty and sticky and nasty-wet. But that kind of comment deserved some sort of response, so I managed to glance over and mumble, "Uh, thanks. It must be my shampoo or something." (So glib!)

And then I realized. It was THE MAGIC HAIR SPRAY. I love Aveda's 'Brilliant' line of products, and in the past, complete strangers have told me my hair smelled good. (The fabulous Michael Angelo of legend and lore being one of these men.) USMCman also has come under the spell of this Aveda line and I have had to put my special hair products under strict lock and key-- they ain't cheap!

I guess my magic elixir works under dire circumstances. Good to know!

Do you have a special product that you just love and that everyone comments on? Share!

Damn Those Nightmarish Chickens!

2006-11-06T14:23:00.000-05:00

I did my good deed for the weekend by offering to take Thing1 and his friend to lunch and a movie. Normally, this wouldn't be a problem, but the friend in question was a girl I'll just call: WEDNESDAY ADAMS. She looks and acts like Wednesday. Sour, pinch-faced, and a consumate liar. Unfortunately, she and Thing1 were in school together for two years and became fast pals and even though we don't attend the same school any more (thanks to the diety!), we still come into contact with her family. Can't avoid the occasional play date.

As Wednesday was being dropped off, I explained to her mother that a) we were going to a movie and b) I would be taking them out to lunch prior to the movie.

Without batting an eye, Wednesday's mother said, "Oh, make sure Wednesday doesn't eat any chicken-- IT GIVES HER NIGHTMARES."

What the CLUCK?

I blinked, long and slow, and then said, "Well, we wouldn't want THAT to happen, would we? I guess that means no nuggets."

Has anyone ever heard of this nonsense? How would a person actually link eating chicken (processed parts or free-range chicken breasts) with causing a nightmare?

The woman was dead serious.

Happy Halloween! Religious Zealots Bugger Off!

2006-10-31T08:43:00.000-05:00

Hooray! At last, at last it's Halloween! I'm in all my states of glee.

Pumpkins carved... check.
Treats ready to hand out...check.
Creepy music ready to play all evening...check.
Thing1/Thing2 costumes staged...check.

WE'RE READY TO TRICK-OR-TREAT!

I hope you all have a frighteningly fabulous Halloween!!!

And now for my "incident" report...

I took Thing1/Thing2 to a park in Wilmington (1 hour away) yesterday for some R&R. While there, several tween-aged girls approached me with flyers. One girl simpered, "Our church is having an ALTERNATIVE TO HALLOWEEN tonight..." At this point, I politely interjected with, "We're not from this area, thanks." And then, I paused and said, "...And there IS no 'alternative' to Halloween."

They all got horrified looks on their faces (Satan's mistress is visiting the park!) and scurried away. Heh. Flee, girlies, flee...

I loathe Harvest Festivals. They are thinly-veiled attempts at sabotaging Halloween. You don't see an alternative being promoted for Valentine's Day or Arbor Day, do you? Nope. Just Halloween. I think the churches are threatened by the popularity of Halloween and are fighting back with all the tools at their disposal. It's fine by me if their parishoners want to cut Halloween out of their own lives. What pisses me off is when the church holds a "Harvest Festival" and promotes it to the community. They try to guilt the population into skipping Halloween by saying it's 'dangerous' and not-Christian. Well, DUH, of course it's not Christian.

[Digression: technically, there are NO Christian holidays, they're all pagan holy days that have been taken over and modified by the church. holiday -- Old English -- haligdaeg-- holy day. Halloween is one of the few holidays that has managed to stay afloat as a non-Christian celebration.]

HEY, ALL YOU ZEALOTS! STOP MEESSING UP HALLOWEEN FOR THE REST OF US! STOP INTRUDING ON OUR FUN!

I've said it before, and I'll say it again: If you believe that trick-or-treating is the step that will turn your kid into a satanic cult follower--then you've got more problems going on at home then just Halloween. The 'harvest festivals' are just proselytizing. There is no harvesting going on at these faux festivals, just religion in the form of candy and cheap hot dog dinners. HANDS OFF HALLOWEEN!

I think I should start an 'alternative to Christmas' and see what happens. We'll call it an Ice Festival, and serve candy and hot dogs...

Suitcase Siege.

2006-10-24T14:20:00.000-04:00

USMCman just returned from a 1-week conference on the west coast. He did not have an easy time traveling, USAir having lost his luggage (upon his return to J'Ville) for the FOURTH time since we have lived here. We've only been in NC for a little over 2 years, so that tells you the track record for USAir and the local puddlejumper airport...

Once the errant luggage was returned by cab (how much did THAT cost?) and all goods and sundries unloaded... nothing.

The suitcase is still sitting in front of his highboy. Yes, STILL SITTING.

I'm known for ignoring piles of stuff like books and papers, but a full-sized suitcase is not easily ignored. Somehow, USMCman is managing to pretend the elephant is not in the room. By the way, to put it away properly, the suitcase has to be hauled up a rickety ladder and launched into the 'luggage pile' section of the attic.

I'll be DAMNED if I'm going to schlep that suitcase up those creaky old stairs. I WON'T DO IT! It's not my suitcase, it's not my problem.

And thus, the battle of Spouse v. Suitcase has begun. I'm pointedly ignoring that area of the bedroom. Not saying a word. He's completely oblivious and I refuse to nag him or do it myself. We'll see how long it takes until the suitcase moves. (Knowing USMCman, any suitcase movment will just be due to growth of mold on the sides.)

Any bets as to how long it will take him to notice the suitcase? I'll post updates... monthly?

PROOF: Eating Healthy = DISASTER!

2006-10-22T13:04:00.000-04:00

A few days ago, I attempted to be a healthy, low-cal eater. Grabbed a Bumblebee Thai-Tuna lunch pack out of the pantry and ate my spicy tuna with my 5 (or so) Ritz crackers. Mmmmm. Spicy, quick, and healthy.

Around 10pm, my entire body was aching like I'd been in a car accident. My spine hurt and my muscles felt bruised. I couldn't sleep or get comfortable in bed. I felt sweaty and cold at the same time. Then I got queasy and nauseated. No further details, but you get the ongoing picture. Pretty grim stuff!

The moral of this story:

Don't bother eating healthy. You'll die sooner rather than later!

You'd think that a pre-packaged little can of tuna would be safe. Apparently, the spicyness covered up the taste (if there was a bad taste--tuna tastes like crap anyway, which is why I chose spicy Thai flavoring), so I never knew I was eating TAINTED FISH. Barfola. If I had just had my usual soup or fruit for lunch, I'd have been just fine. But NOOOOO... I had to try my hand at healthy eating. An unlucky choice of food.

Double-unlucky for me, USMCman was on the West Coast at a conference and I was stuck trying to function as a sentient being on my own with two little kids. I now have a new sympathy for vicitms of the deMedici family.

Up until now, there was only one food item I would not touch: beets. *shudder* Now, my list has expanded to canned tuna. *writhe**shudder* On Monday, USMCman will take all tuna out of the pantry and bring it into work for his lunches. It's never coming into MY house again! It has taken me 4 days to get back up to speed. I didn't even feel like talking on the phone or reading. Sick, indeed!

Am I the only unlucky one? Has anyone else had food poisoning?

BOO! Your Neighbor...Or Pay the Price.

2006-10-16T14:58:00.000-04:00

As I've said before, I LOVE HALLOWEEN. Fun, frightening, and full of chocolate!

However, there is one Halloween tradition I've been introduced to that I'm not so crazy about.

It's called "BOO-ing".

It starts with you finding an innocent-looking Halloween bag on your front porch. In the bag will be the following:

candy
some Halloween stuff (candles or bowls or pencils or stickers)
a paper with a ghost on it and the word BOO! in huge letters
the Boo poem, which is as follows:

The air is cool the season fall, soon Halloween will come to all. The spooks are
after things to do--in fact, a spook brought this to you. “BOO” is a shield from
witching hour, just hang it up and watch its power. On your front door is where it
works, it wards off spooks and scary jerks. The treats that came with crypted
note, are yours to keep, enjoy them both. The power comes when friends like you, will copy this and make it TWO. Then others here among our friends, will give warm fuzzies that do not end. We’ll all have smiles upon our faces, no one will know who “BOO”ed whose places. Just one short day to work your spell, or a big ZAP will strike your tail. And don’t forget a nifty treat, like something cute or something sweet. Please join fun, let’s really hear it--and spread some “BOO”s and Halloween spirit.

Essentially, once the BOO bag hits your front porch, you are under a time constraint to a) run out and buy gifts/shit to fill TWO MORE BOO bags, and then you have to b) copy the BOO sign and the BOO poem x2 to c) put in those two bags. THEN you have to scurry around looking for someone who hasn't yet been BOO'ed and slink up to their doorstep and drop the bag off without being seen (because then they'd know what kind of stuff you bought to put in their bags).

It's Hallow'een extortionism! And the worst thing is that you can't avoid putting the BOO sign up on your door (whether or not you actually do run out and BOO two more people) because if you don't, then the bags of stuff keep showing up at your doorstep and people eventually realize you're just hoarding the loot. (Then they come to burn you out of your home with torches, a la Frankenstein.)

Maybe this is just something that happens annually on military bases because of the close living proximity and because the identities of your neighbors are pretty well known. Whatever. I just resent the whole "game". It's right up there with bunko. Stupid and a waste of time/money. I'd rather make a batch of caramel apples and share them with the neighbors I know and like rather than slink around the base looking for one of the few remaining houses that doesn't have the damn BOO sign on the door.

Have you heard of this before? Did YOU get BOO'ed this year? Am I wrong to feel vaguely put-upon? I did, in fact, do my BOO, so I didn't blow it off. I also re-BOO'ed my gift bag, which made me feel appropriately vindicated.

I Made a Wrong Turn on the BBQ Highway...

2006-10-08T20:22:00.000-04:00

I kept hearing about how "great" North Carolina BBQ was.

"Oh, you'll LOVE IT!" our neighbors gushed. "It's real southern BBQ!"

Apparently, this dumb northerner doesn't know BBQ from beans, because I thought BBQ meant that THERE WAS BARBECUE SAUCE INVOLVED SOMEWHERE!

Nope. Not in North Carolina!

We went to a locally known BBQ house to get take-out. I ordered just the BBQ beef. (I've had NC hush puppies and, as good as they taste going down, they're hell on the way out. Change your oil, anyone?)

So, I'm at the drive through window and I'm picking up my BBQ beef. The big white bag is passed out the window, and I roll happily out of the parking lot, thinking... "Mmmm, I can just taste that tangy sauce..."

Again... NOPE. Not in NC.

I get home and open the two styrofoam containers and there's this shredded grey meat stuff inside! Covered with vinegar sauce! EEK! Did I order the 'Catfood Surprise' instead?

Nope. This is what you get in NC when you order BBQ.

Not one iota of red, smokey sauce will ever be seen within the boundaries of the state of NC. It's all beef cooked/marinated in a vinegar broth. Here I was, dreaming of KC-style tangy tomato sauce with long slabs of meat.... and I get picklemeat. It was spicy in a sour way and of course Thing1 and Thing2 didn't like it at all. I wasn't thrilled with the taste myself. USMCMan immediately moved on to PB&J (in the interest of saving his intestinal tract) and so I am now stuck with two pounds of meow mix. What to do? Mail it to AirportMan and XCircMan? ("Honey, PLEASE!")

Please compare the photos. NC BBQ on left--Kansas City BBQ on right. Which do you prefer? Why? Am I just overly biased to KC cookin'?

Here's a Tip... Spunky Monkey in the Fifth!

2006-10-02T14:42:00.000-04:00

I'm having issue with tip jars at counter-service establishments.

Take Starbuck's, for example (please!). You pay almost $4 for a cup of coffee and then the barristas (ack!) have the nerve to look pointedly at the tip jar as they hand you your measley change. As if there is any money left at this point for a tip, anyway...

I don't think counter service deserves a tip, unless there is some out-of-the-ordinary service being provided. The Starbuck's people are being paid to make you a cup of coffee and hand it to you. Period. They don't bring it out to you, clear your place, bring you seconds, or offer you any SERVICE. They do a job and pass the product to you. Why does this deserve a tip?

ANSWER: it doesn't! I don't tip at McDonald's or The Chick, why should I tip at Starbuck's or Coldstone Creamery or any other hopped-up overpriced yuppie establishment?

Tips are for service. Waitstaff that take your order, bring drinks, refill, bring sundries as needed and get extra napkins for your sticky fingers. Tips are for your hairdresser, your taxi driver, or your bell hop. NOT FOR COUNTER SERVICE.

I'm a little snarky about this because I keep seeing these damn tip jars out at the places that least deserve tips. AND PEOPLE KEEP PUTTING MONEY INTO THE JARS! That's just rewarding begging, as far as I'm concerned.

What is your opinion on tipping for counter service? Am I out of line? Being a cheap-o?

A Font Of (Useless) Knowledge, That's Me!

2006-09-28T14:27:00.000-04:00

I like this comparison. What do YOU think?

Slugs! Ugh!

2006-09-26T14:28:00.000-04:00

Yet another wildlife story.

Moving from SoCal, my big "yard fears" were: black widow spiders, scorpions, and cholla spines. Most of these can be avoided or taken care of pretty easily.

Welcome to North Carolina-- it's SLUG COUNTRY!

I had, repeat, HAD some beatuiful hosta plants in my front garden. Now, they're the tail-end of a slug salad bar. I kept my windows open to catch the lovely cool breeze coming in off the river and barf!, two slugs crawled into my windows by squirming and sliming their way under my crappy government window screens. Eeeeew!

I tried to "relocate" the slugs by picking them up (damn, they're huge and slimy!) and relocating them across the street in a wooded area. Sort of a 'Sandals' for slugs. Apparently, the slugs took the party bus back across the street and regrouped at my mondo grass. So much for the kinder, more humane way of slug removal. Bastards.

I called my NC connections, AirportMan and XCircMan, and asked for HELP! They suggested beer in a cup set down into the lawn to attract/drown the slugs. It did work (kisses and hugs) but unfortunately, the base mower men who mow our lawns chewed the hell out of my buried beer cups and spat chunks of plastic party cups everywhere. Which I then had to pick up. Some slugs did die in the beer battle, but not enough. I kept noticing slime tracks on my siding and my first-floor windows. Ewwww!

It was time to get tough with slug bait. I put a minimal amount out last night and hoped it would work. MAN DID IT EVER! It was like the Battle of Bull Run for slugs. Little puffy corpses everywhere. There literally must be 50 or 60 of them all around the base of the house.

No, I have NOT picked them up, yet. I plan on paying Thing1 .01/slug to collect them for me. He will think he's making a fortune and I will avoid having to go on slug corpse patrol.

What's next? A plague of frogs? (Shhhh. Pretend I didn't say anything...)

Are there any local plagues at YOUR HOUSE? Got any slug suggestions?

Overprotective Mother and Her Bubble Boy

2006-09-21T15:24:00.000-04:00

Sometimes, I think I'm a mite bit overprotective of Thing1 and Thing2, but one of my neighbors beats me, hands down.

She home-schools her two middleschool-aged girls, but sends her 1st grader to the military school here on base. This kid is 6, perhaps 7 years old.

The bus stop for our area of the neighborhood stops at this woman's driveway. YET... every day, she drives her 1st grader to school and picks him up in the afternoon. The carpool lines are LONG and she leaves 25 minutes before the bus arrives. I am usually standing in her driveway in the afternoon and have to move aside to let her back into her driveway. What a waste of a day!

Thing1--who is in kindergarten--rides the bus to and from school each day. Thus far, he has not been mugged, attacked, or mauled by wolves. He is now riding the bus without a care in the world and it's a pretty tame bus ride, given that the riders are military kids and pretty well disciplined.

Having no couth, I asked Ms. Oveprotective why she doesn't have her son ride the bus. Her response: "I guess he's just mommy's little boy!" Followed by a simpering giggle.

How wierd is this? Poor boy's going to grow up afraid of his own shadow.

Nighty-Night, Little Squirrel!

2006-09-19T14:16:00.000-04:00

As soon as I saw the squirrel in our front yard, I knew something was wrong. It wasn't acting...squirreley enough. It wasn't darting around, looking furtive and plotting the moves on my newly-planted tulip bulbs. Nope. It was hunched up and moving slowly away from its tree.

In retrospect, I believe it was sick or wounded.

Anyway, I saw the squirrel meandering through our yard and thought, "That just doesn't look right to me." (That's me, stuffed full of prescience!) And then promptly forgot all about the little bugger.

The next day, Thing2 and I were watering potted flowers and pulling weeds in the front flowerbeds. Thing2 wandered off near the tree and I began to hear snatches of her one-sided sing-song conversation:

"Squirrley-squirrel... nappy nappy nappy. Shhhhhhh, Mr. Squirrel. Nap, nap, nap."

Uh-oh.

So I rounded the tree and found Thing2 petting the dead, decomposing carass of Mr. Squirrel!

Shhhhhh. Nappy nap, Mr. Squirrel.

Foot Fetish -- Feh!

2006-08-31T20:07:00.000-04:00

Some people love feet. I mean, really, REALLY love feet. There are web sites where you can 'pay per view' for feet. Getting up-close-and-personal, some people like to lick other people's feet.

Hang on. I think I threw up in my own mouth.

Anyway, feet are my ultimate nightmare.

I have 'FOOF' -- Fear Of Others' Feet.

I'm not even fond of my own feet. Babies' feet are OK since they're small and blobby, but once they get to about age 4, they fall into the FOOF category.

Worst of all... USMCMan has horrible, narrow feet with long monkey toes and they scare me!

*shudder*

How about you? Got FOOF or got fetish?

A Little Something for Our Neighbors...

2006-08-20T14:05:00.000-04:00

When we moved to our military house two years ago, we purchased a hand-made barn star and hung it on our front porch. It looked pretty nifty and nobody else had them.

SOMEHOW a local store began selling barn stars in mass quantities, and soon there were lots of houses on our street and in the surrounding area sporting barn stars.

Copycats!
In order to punk our neighbors, we've decided to up the odds on our new house. We've purchased a HEX SIGN. I'm sure this will piss off some of our religious zealot neighbors (there's always a few on every block) because they will think of hex signs as "evil". This is a misunderstanding about hex signs: people think they are satanic or something because in German "hexe" means witch.

Yet... the Pennsylvania Dutch, who created the hex signs in the mid to later 19th century, were very devout Christians. Not satanic worshipers. Just farmers who wanted to decorate their Bibles, birth certificates, marriage certificates, and later (as the price of paint got cheaper) barns. They enjoyed using six-sided figures because of the symmetry involved and it is theorized that the word in German, "sechs" which means six, is where the word hex came from. Hence, hex sign.

No witches involved.

Still, I believe the hex signs are nice examples of early American folk art and I know I'm the first one to have a sign on my door. It represents prosperity, peace, and luck. Who wouldn't need a little of that in their lives?

Buried in Boxes.

2006-08-19T13:29:00.000-04:00

We've been unpacking boxes for two days now, and I think I'm beginning to see some floor. Perhaps. I hate the waste of the boxes because I know in my heart that when we call the moving company to come pick up the empties, they're just load-luggering them into the dump. What an ecological waste! I feel like I'm putting some load onto my Karmic debt...

We now have an attic. This is both good and bad.

GOOD: we can now store things like suitcases and holiday decorations up and out of the way without having to cram our closets with non-clothing items.

BAD: it gives me the false sense of having fewer items than I really do have. "Oh look! We hardly have any crap at all! Look at all this room! Let's go out and buy more stuff to fill in the free space."

Not good.

Once I dig out my camera, I'll take a picture of the new digs and post it along with a comparison picture of our old digs. As the Jefferson's would say, "We're movin' on up--to the East side--to a de-lux apartment, in the sky!"

SNARL !!!

2006-08-14T13:38:00.000-04:00

We're getting packed up by the moving company tomorrow and then our stuff is being hauled ONE MILE down the street to our new house.

I HATE MOVING! It wouldn't be so bad if we were going to a new city or base, but one mile down the road is just cruel and mean.

I have to disconnect both computer and cable this evening, so everyone in the family will be frantic. Should I suggest a rousing game of 'Scrabble'? I'd probably get stuffed into the dryer.

So... I'm feeling snarley. I may need to make a special trip to the C-Store to buy some chocolate.

Wish me sanity and thank your lucky stars YOU won't be unpacking boxes for the next month or so. I should be back online by Friday...maybe.

Grrrr~!

Attack!

2006-08-08T19:38:00.000-04:00

It's T-minus 9 days and counting until our move, and I've started "organizing" the house. You know how that goes: try to throw out stuff you don't need and tidy up things you want to keep. Make things orderly for the packing crew.

For some reason, while digging up plants to take with me to my new house, I got inspired to tidy up my outdoor workbench while watching Thing1 and Thing2 scooter on the driveway. Multitasking at it's best. (Note: we don't have garages on our houses, just car ports, so all the things that would normally be enclosed in a garage are exposed to just about everything.)

I have one two-drawer workbench that I use for my stained glass projects. There was a plastic bin on the lower shelf filled with glass pieces. I reached behind the box to yank it out so I could clean off the dust and SOMETHING PAPERY AND ROUND CRUNCHED BENEATH MY GLOVE.

This, my friends, is a HOLY CRAP moment.

Hearing a furious buzz of wings, I shrieked and ran for the door, scooping up Thing1 and Thing2, who were amazed to see anyone running so quickly in 110 degree humidity. Lickety-split, I dashed inside the house, slammed the door, and collapsed onto the floormat.

Looking out the kitchen window (which, stupidly, is designed to look into the carport), I could see a SWARM of irate wasps buzzing around since I had JUST GRABBED THEIR GIGANTIC NEST AND PULPED IT WITH MY HAND!

Eeeeeeek!

The rest of my day was spent dashing in and out of the house, spraying the nest and dodging pissed wasps. They kept returning to the nest site, even when the nest had been destroyed and removed. I killed about 8 of them with a fly-swatter over the following 24 hours... they were lookin' for blood and my name was first on the list.

The funny thing was when I sat down to relax this evening, the classic movie that was playing was 'The Wasp Woman'! I laughed so hard, I started to hiccup. I decided that I'd had enough wasp action for the day and watched 'Dirty Jobs' instead.

OWCH! Ah burnt mah tengh...

2006-08-06T13:12:00.000-04:00

Note to self: Don't put just-nuked pizza in your mouth.

I managed to really, really burn my tongue and roof of my mouth on molten-hot mini pizzas this afternon. Not too bright of me.

Now my mouth feels smooth and swollen on the roof and my tongue has a big lumpy blister in the middle of the tip. I also cannot stop putting my blistered tongue on the smoothly burnt section of the roof of my mouth.

It's like when you lose a tooth and your tongue keeps going into the hole... Aaaugh!

A Grave Mistake...

2006-08-02T14:40:00.000-04:00

In about two weeks, I will be hauled kicking and screaming out of my home and moved exactly one mile up the street to a new home. When the military says "move", you move.

I went to check up on the condition of my soon-to-be new home, and noticed a strange sight in the front yard... A GIANT GRAVE!

At least it looked like a grave.

The previous tenant was a gardener and had a huge planter box in the middle of the front yard. About ten feet wide and 6 feet deep. Multi-tiered and filled with lovely plants. When she moved, she took the damn thing with her but instead of leveling the excess dirt underneath and putting down grass seed or sod, she did a shitty thing to us...

She dumped a few buckets of dirt on the bare spot and put a dead flower in the middle. The attempt: make it look like a flowerbed so she wouldn't have to clean it up. The result: GRAVE.

I was ticked! Had this been around Halloween, I might have let it go and fixed it later, but damnation! It's 110 degrees here, 100% humidity and I am NOT going to spend hours hauling out bad dirt, dead plants, and cutting/laying new sod.

You should all be proud of me, I went to the housing office and politely showed them these pictures and just as politely (and firmly) requested that they fix the GRAVE before our family moves in. They seem to be on track to fix it up, so we'll keep our fingers crossed.

If it doesn't get fixed, I'm going to put SOMEBODY into that grave to make it worth my while!

A Tour of Southern California's Stripper Country...

2006-07-30T19:09:00.000-04:00

I was going to blog (read: complain) about how my in-laws invaded my vacation with my parents by visiting during 4th of July weekend... But then I thought, "Screw it! Nobody wants to hear me whine about my in-laws anymore. Move on to the fun stuff-- STRIPPERS!"

So I am.

I was given a few days of freedom away from Thing1 and Thing2 during my trip to MI, so my dear friend, The Illustrated Librarian, harassed me into flying out to Southern California for a quick visit. "We'll go to DISNEYLAND!" she promised. "We'll go out for a dinner that you can enjoy, and go to clubs!" It was the thought of an uninterrupted dinner that won me over, in the end.

So off I flew to SoCal!

Since it was such a brief trip, I had few preconceived notions about our plans. I was told:

DisneyLand

Dinner at Wangs-yum!

Sleeping in without the 0630 wakeup howls. Except from TIL's cat, Bates.

WOO! All good things. However, what I THOUGHT was planned was much different than what I got! TIL (bless her saucy little heart) had planned a tour of SoCal Strippers. Be still, my beating libido!

Off we whirled to club after club, each one sporting an all-male revue for the ladies' pleasure. I could barely keep up with where we were...Brea? Palm Springs? Anaheim? I felt like the Zagats of Strippers.

My favorite stripper/performer of the trip was NIKO. Yummy! Here he is with me in a lovely picture... he had a wonderful performance with a Count of Monte Cristo act that was a poetic combination of beauty and strength. And a scanty g-string barely covering his prodigious package. Mmmmm. Niko! And his pals weren't bad, either!

We did, eventually, go to DisneyLand -- and had a great time -- but I'll have to say that dancing with go-go boys was a bit more invigorating than the Buzz Lightyear ride. Maybe Disney should open an adult theme park in SoCal?

I'd buy a yearly pass!

Vacation Fun, Including: Funerals, Strippers, and Terror!

2006-07-27T13:49:00.000-04:00

I've had a busy last month or so. I needed to return to Michigan for my grandmother's memorial service, and decided to just stay on at my parents' house for a few weeks as an extended summer vacation.

I enjoy just about everything about my parents' house: good food, big house, huge basement that is nice and cool and can be used as a scooter parkway for the kids, hot tub, and free cable TV. There is also a bakery nearby that sells my all-time favorite item: cream horns. Mmmmmmm. Cream horns...

The bad thing about my parents' house is that they live in an INFORMATION WASTELAND. As someone who is used to high-speed Internet access, I was HORRIFIED to discover that my parents were still on DIAL-UP INTERNET ACCESS WITH... *gasp* AOL!

Oh, the humanity!

I was unable to blog, send pictures, or do much of anything online while visiting them. Thus, I apologize for the blogging dry spell. It wasn't by choice.

*Note* Since my visit with it's constant complaining about their Internet speed, my parents have upgraded to high-speed Internet and are loving it. Squeaky wheel gets the oil, right?

On to my first story: FUNERAL FUN.

My parents and my uncle organized a very nice memorial service for my grandmother. Everything went well at the service and then the whole group was directed to follow the hearse to the cemetery for the interment of her ashes. (And my grandfather, too, who had died and was cremated back in 1989 or so. Two for one cemetery hole!)

The hearse was COOL. A midnight-blue Mercedes Benz hearse. With a purple light on top. I am doing my damndest to get my picture of that hearse and post it for you, but I may actually have to send my relatives back to the funeral home and get them to take another shot. Apparently, there are only three of them in the US, and wooooo! They're so beautiful!

Everyone motored serenely out to the cemetery and we heard the priest say a few words. Then came the throw-clods-of-dirt-into-the-grave part of the cememony. I really need to look up the origin of that tradition. Is it for comfort, religious purposes, or to keep the dead from rising? If anyone knows, let me hear it!

When it was my turn, I took Thing1's hand and led him up to the gravesite, picked up my bit of dirt, and pitched it in. Then I realized that Thing1, being five years old, was determined to be in on the action as well. He grabbed a HUGE wad of dirt, did a wind-up, and flung the dirt with all his might into the grave! Unfortunately, he had to get close to the hole to have any accuracy, and his momentum tipped him into the grave itself!

So there I was, desperately bracing myself to keep Thing1 out of the grave (he teetered over it for several seconds) and myself from tipping in after him. Things were dicey for a minute... With a lurch and a scramble, I hauled us both up and out of danger. A near disaster of epic proportions! Pretty funny, though, and he did manage to get his dirt in the grave! My grandmother would have been appalled, which makes it all the more fun.

Next: Attack of the Out-Laws.

We're Moving On Up... Who the Hell Knows Where.

2006-06-20T13:27:00.000-04:00

To sum: The private company that owns the military housing we live in is moving us to another house on base so they can renovate our home.

Here's what sucks about this deal:

We do NOT get to move back into our renovated home.

We do NOT have any idea what house we will be moving into -- we'll just be given a list of available houses and told "CHOOSE ONE!".

We have to organize a move with TMO (The Moving Office) which is like trying to set up an appointment with the DMV. Horror of horrors.

Cable and phone will have to be shut down at the old place and rescheduled to start up at the new place. Always a fun event.

ADDRESS CHANGES, ADDRESS CHANGES, ADDRESS CHANGES.

The worst, and I mean THE WORST, is that we're scheduled to move from this base a year from now anyway, so we'll have to do this all over again in 10 months or so. Damnation!

What is stressing me out the most is that this 'mystery list' of houses that we're supposed to be getting changes from day to day and I think we're going to be out of state when our name comes up to choose. AAAUGH! STRESS!

I know we move every 3 years or so, but for some reason, this local move is bothering me alot. The management company who runs this project is unprofessional and capricious. It isn't like a regular, orderly military move.

As my beloved Illustrated Librarian says: "KITTY BREATH!"

Be On The Lookout...

2006-06-19T08:37:00.000-04:00

We have a pest problem.

Not bugs. Neighbor kids.

Now that school's out, our two next-door neighbors, the LOWES' KIDS, are at home and ready to be entertained. Bored, bored, boooooored.

Ms. Lowe's, while very willing to spend hours each day picking excess lint and leaves off of her driveway, is not willing to play with her kids or take them on a vacation. She'll leave them outside for hours like unsupervised dogs. Like ill-trained mutts, they roam the neighborhood looking for other people to entertain them.

Unfortunately, our front door/carport faces the Lowes' house, so we're prime victims on the ENTERTAIN THE LOWES' KIDS list. If they were well-behaved kids, this wouldn't be so annoying, but they're like the typical ICK/UGG or TWEEDLEDEE/TWEEDLEDORK boys-- they hang around our door constantly, waiting for me or Thing1 to exit so we can 'play' with them. I play with my own kids, you couldn't PAY me to play with these two.

My first week of this has forced me to take extraordinary security measures: I look out our front-door peephole before exiting. I listen carefully for any sounds of screaming or shouting boys, and then I hustle my kids out of the immediate area ASAP. What a pain in the ass!

I know, I know...this is no way to live. SOLUTION: my next step will be to purchase a tazer. And use it on the two boys with great gusto.

I'm Giving THE EYE...

2006-06-16T14:05:00.000-04:00

I've been practicing THE LOOK.

I find it easier to resolve conflicts with an evil glare rather than verbally. Especially with kids and asshole drivers.

Apparently, I'm getting good at it because I completely silenced three middle-school boys who were having a loud argument in front of my house with but a single, squinty glare.

Here's a description of THE LOOK:

Eyes slitted.
Mouth thinned to white line.
Eyebrows drawn down.
Jaw jutting.

I gave THE LOOK to a little boy who was pestering Thing2 at a park. He ran back to his mother in tears! LOVE IT!
Do you prefer THE LOOK or VERBAL WAR for resolving your issues?

Thongs, For the Memories...

2006-06-12T18:59:00.000-04:00

I did something I SWORE I'd never do.

I bought a thong.

Normally, the prospect of wearing butt-floss doesn't appeal to me in any way whatsoever. I recently bought a super-fabulous dress and it is made of a material that does not permit any type of underwear lines. Think smoooooth. (Note: It does have a shelf-bra, since it has a halter top.) I love the dress and so I had to compromise my common sense. Hell is just a handbasket ride away for me, now!

Buying a thong ain't easy. It's kind of hard to judge size and fit just by looking at them. However, after sneakily skulking through the panties department at the PX (military exchange: shopping store), I finally found a 'demure' thong. Fine. I put it in my shopping cart along with several items: birthday cards, gifts, nail polish remover, and a DVD for Thing2, who was riding in the front of the shopping cart.

Off to the checkout.

At this point, I realized that it was close to lunch time and that means SHOPPING TIME for the Marines. Even though there are no food items in the PX, they manage to waste their lunch hours looking at XBox games, clothing, jewelery, and magazines. HOW DARE THEY SHOP IN A SHOPPING MALL? (*ha*) Here I am, with my EMBARRASSING ITEM, and I'm too shy to go pay for it.

I kind of cruised past the checkout stands until one lane was just about empty. Just one Jarhead paying with cash. I whipped in behind him and put out my not-so-naughty items on the checkout counter.

Then came the moment of truth. I reached down to grab the thong... and FOUR MARINES SHOWED UP BEHIND ME IN LINE! Of course, they're all checking out what I'm buying-- what else is there to do while waiting in line?

So, I'm freaking' out. I can't buy a THONG in front of four hot guys in uniform! So I scooped all my items up and launched them back into the cart, babbling to the checkout girl something about, "I forgot something..."

Meanwhile, Thing2 had considerately scooped my thong out of the cart and was cheerily waving it at the four Marines, who looked highly entertained.

Mortified, I snatched it back, attempted to collect my few remaining shreds of dignity, and marched stiff-backed to the shoe department--where I hid for 12 minutes.

Thongs alot, Thing2!

Back to the Church of the Illiterate Sinner...

2006-06-03T18:03:00.000-04:00

I haven't blogged for awhile since I've been in the throes of a monumental task: putting on a party for 200 parents/kids at Thing1's school. That event took place last night, and went well, so now I'm using some fun free time.

On the way to Thing1's school (a trip I make 4 times per day) I drive past a certain church. I've mentioned this church before and I call it: The Church of the Illiterate Sinner because the message board outside the church is ALWAYS grammatically incorrect. It drives me crazy because a) I drive past it 4 times per day and b)can't help but read it-- it's like a car crash, you HAVE TO LOOK!

Pure torture.

For the past MONTH, the board has read: LORD! DO GOOD UNTO THOSE WHO BE GOOD.

Is it just me???

I like the Baptist church's board better. At least they have catchy or pithy sayings. Like last week's: APPLY SON SCREEN TO PREVENT BURNING.

Ha!

Let's POTTY!

2006-05-19T14:02:00.000-04:00

Yesterday, I spent most of the day at a zoo. Well...let me amend that. A menagerie would be a better description. This place was a zoo like 'krab' with a 'K' is similar to crab. I was accompanying Thing1 on a dreaded field trip, which meant that I had to bring Thing2 along as well. Hail, hail, the gang's all here...

This 'zoo' consisted of lots of wooded land with paths. Strewn along the paths were pens with animals in them. (Hey. It's the schticks of North Carolina. That's what's available around here for educational entertainment.)

The dweeb who runs the place does his best with school tours, but he's like a one-legged man in an ass kicking contest...running around trying to put on little info-shows while keeping the groups of kids informed about the animals. This 'zookeeper', who proudly informed the parents he also responds to 'hey, you!', makes his living off of having groups of schoolkids tour his displays. That being said, you'd THINK he'd provide adequate bathroom facilities.

Noooooo.

30 acres of 'zoo' and one STINKIN' port-a-potty.

Of course, all the kids have to 'go' when they're at the absolute farthest distance from the john. In the midst of the zookeeper's 'Learn about the Japanese quail named Pee Wee' speech, a little girl decided she HAD to go. (Picture: crossed legs, bouncing up and down, panic...) So I volunteered to take her to the potty.

We ran and ran, finally making our way back to the entrance to the park and the potty was being USED! ALAS! WOE IS ME! So the poor kid stands there shaking and FINALLY, out of the port-a-john rolls a big, fat, nasty worker-guy (seen earlier repairing some fence near the emu's pen). Unfortunately for the little girl, big, fat, worker guy had laid some big, fat bricks in the potty.

Oh, the humanity.

Thanks a lot, dude.

Desperate for relief, the kid staggered into the foul canister. I don't think she'd ever used a port-a potty before, and this was a nasty intruduction to the entire concept. Considerately, I held the door open (they're on springs, so they always shut) and stood around the corner so she could have a little fresh air as well as privacy. Also, if she fell in, I could hear the 'sploosh' as she hit the sewage.

Poor thing. She did her 'business' and reeled out, green around the gills. We stopped by the sheep pen to take a few breaths of 'fresh' air. What a trauma!

When you've gotta go, you've gotta go. Right?

(NOT) Stickin' With The Pig!

2006-05-15T18:32:00.000-04:00

There's a grocery chain in the South (and oddly enough, in Wisconsin!) called PIGGLY WIGGLY. This chain was supposedly the first series of self-serve grocery stores.

People from the South often have very strong feelings for this chain; since many of the stores have been going out of business, an upswelling of local support is being mustered in the form of bumper stickers that read:

"I'M STICKIN' WITH THE PIG".

Let me tell you right now darlin'--it's a lost cause.

The pig must die.

And here's why...

On Mondays--the day when I usually realize that certain foodstuffs or sundries are needed for my upcoming week--the military grocery store on base is closed. Why Monday? Who knows? Anyway, I needed a few items and on the spur of the moment, drove into the Piggly Wiggly parking lot in the town surrounding the military base.

Snap decision.

I'd never been to a Piggly Wiggly before, having spent most of my life in the Upper Midwest (not Wisconsin) and SoCal, so all I knew was that A) PW was popular with the locals and B) They were going out of business for some reason.

Here's the 'some reason'. As I walked into the Piggly Wiggly, I was panhandled by three crazy indigent guys for change. (Not fun and a little scary because all crazy bums are usually over 400 lbs--you never get accosted by a 72 pound insane guy.) They were big, and threatening. I gave them a polite brush-off and sidled inside. They glared at me and I was a little nervous, especially since I was holding Thing2 and it's difficult to sprint for your life while holding a 30 pound toddler.

It was DIRTY! ICKY! SMELLY! Some of the frozen food cases were empty/broken and there were no workers around to help me find what I wanted. There was trash in the isles, under the shelving units, and some of it was NASTY TRASH. The fruit/veg section was wilted and sad and minimally stocked. And the AC didn't seem to be working at all, and the air inside the store was heavy and still. Sweaty, even. WHAT A HORROR!

I finally gave up and just left. I couldn't take it any more. Never even SAW an employee or manager-type to make a comment. Didn't buy a damn thing and I'm glad I didn't give The Pig my money.

THUS... I'm not stickin' with the pig. Kill the pig! Die, pig, die!

(Apologies to XCircMan, MonChiChi and MonChiChiChick, who all may have fond feelings for The Pig. Just stay away from our J-Ville Pig!)

SURVIVOR: Exile Closet

2006-05-10T13:23:00.000-04:00

I'm having a trauma-week, so I thought I'd share the love...

Here's a picture of me, Infomatrix, IN MY CLOSET, drinking a glass of wine.

WHY you ask?

Because my in-laws are visiting again, and it is the only place in the house where I can go to be by myself, read a book, and have a nice glass of wine in peace. (I've had to be off the computer because it is located in a high-traffic area in my house and they'd have no problems with reading over my shoulder. Ugh!)

I have also dipped into my emergency stock of See's chocolates (a big Mayfair Easter egg, at this particular moment) which I am using as a "self-medicating" tactic.

Unfortunately for me, my in-laws feel the need to visit as they migrate back and forth from PA to FL, and we're in the flight path--so to speak. They are insane, infuriating, irritating, and, irregardless of my wishes, visiting. Oh well, at least they're going home tomorrow morning. My wine and chocolate stash should hold out until then.

If I could only have a lounge chair and computer access in my closet...

20th Reunion -- Lamefest 2006.

2006-05-02T13:19:00.000-04:00

The dreaded "20-Year High School Reunion" invitation just showed up in my mailbox. Ugh. Has it really been 20 years already? Can't be!

Oddly enough, I noticed that my name was on the "Missing" list! It's not as if I've been in the Congo for the last 20 years. People in my small home town know where to find me. In addition, my parents have lived in the same home with the same telephone number for the last 30 years, so anyone with an ounce of brains should have been able to crack open the phone book and give them a call. Duh. Apparently, the Reunion Committee isn't comprised of all valedictorians.

Here's a list of the FABULOUS activities scheduled for my reunion:

Pre-reunion bonfire--BYOB.
Golf.
Family Fun Day at the Park.
Casino Games Night.

WHAT THE HELL ARE THEY THINKING???

How boring is that? Why would I even consider driving 16 hours to attend a mosquito-fest bonfire, golfing--which I detest, a rugrat playdate, and bunko...with people I didn't like even when I was in school with them 20 years ago?

Am I the only one with a lame high school reunion? Did ANYONE else go to their high school reunion and actually have a good time? An elegant meal with dancing and a live band? Will we have to be having our 50th reunion before people fork out the cash to have a party, not a playdate?

What do you think?

Bacon Of The Month Club.

2006-04-27T10:59:00.000-04:00

Some people are really hard to buy gifts for. They don't need another shirt, belt, magazine subscription or set of shot glasses. Nothing. My dad is one of these people; sometimes, I wish Dad were more of the handyman type, so I could indulge my own love of tools by going to Lowe's and shopping for socket sets, but he's not.

Fortunately for him (and me!)I have found the perfect solution...

BACON OF THE MONTH!

I love bacon. Love it! However, being married to a Jew sort of limits my bacon-loving/licking-obsession. USMCman tends to frown upon bringing "oink" into the house, so I have to get my bacon-fix when we go out to eat. My Dad also shares this passion for bacon, and so I turned to my favorite store/restaurant/deli... ZINGERMAN'S for help.

If you're ever near Ann Arbor, MI, run, don't walk, to Zingerman's. It started out as a small little deli with a sandwich take-out, and has grown into a restaurant, deli, food emporium. The neat thing is that it hasn't lost its attention to detail or the customer during this growth. Even their online service is excellent. I worked at Zingerman's for a summer while in college at UofM, so I can vouch for the 4-Star rating they've gotten for their food quality. I had to quit my job there because I was putting on the pounds--they make their employees taste the food so if a customer asks about it, an informed opinion can be given. (I tasted a bit too much.)

I digress. Zingerman's has "...Of The Month" clubs. Bread, cheese, chocolate. Mmmmm. Now, you can get BACON! I sent my dad Irish bacon, peppered bacon, and smoked apple bacon for his birthday. He was psyched! I was just praying that my gift wouldn't blow his arteries. ("Happy birthday, Dad! Sorry I instigated a quadruple bypass.")

Anyway, if you're looking for fun, fabulous foods or gifts for people who are difficult to buy for, Zingerman's is your place. Get on their mailing list for a catalog. In fact, when I visit MI this summer, having lunch at Zingerman's is on my 'to-do' list. I get the #17-- Helen's Have Another sandwich (pumpernickel bread, chive cream cheese, onions, smoked salmon and tomato... mmmmmm).

I might add some bacon to that. Mmmmm. Bacon.

Berry Nice!

2006-04-22T14:00:00.000-04:00

Oh bliss! The strawberries are just coming into season here in NC. After months of not-so-great oranges and long-past-their-prime apples, the berry season begins again. Hooray!

I went out and picked today, which was fun. Yes, I admit, I happened to eat a few as I went along... to keep up my strength, you understand.

Tonight's menu: spinach and strawberry salad with strawberry shortcake for dessert! I may skip the main course and go right for the fruit.

Any suggestions for strawberry recipes? Maybe I can make some sort of liquor out of them!

Pay No Attention to that TORNADO...!

2006-04-18T19:56:00.000-04:00

Our fabulous NC weatherman (age: 12-ish) on the local "news" cheerfully informed his viewers yesterday morning that, "...there was a 30% chance of afternoon thunderstorms."

OK. I didn't mind that.

By about 5pm, the sky was indeed getting dark. VERY dark. Almost a large, black weight in the sky. As the first few raindrops began to fall, I curtailed Thing1 and Thing2's outdoor fun and brought them inside so I could make dinner.

The wind picked up and, as I was getting dinner plated and put on the table, I thought I might check the local news and see what was what with the weather -- we were supposed to be taking USMCman's dinner to him since he was 'sitting duty' (translation: monitoring a secure building that's creepy and perfect for a Tarantino horror flick).

I turned on the local news and HEY! it was the weather. How nice. Good timing. Oh look! There's a lot of red on the radar map. Lots...

Then I realized that the weather announcer was saying, "...people aboard the military reservation should seek shelter in the lowest levels of their homes, staying away from windows or glass."

HOLY SMOKES! There was a tornado and it was RIGHT ON TOP OF OUR NEIGHBORHOOD!

Freaked me out.

So I yanked the kids out of their chairs in mid-bite and hustled them (complaining) into the bathroom since it was the only room that was central/interior/windowless. There we sat, listening to the wind howling outside and the rain slashing at our roof. Of course, once we were inside the bathroom, everyone wanted to USE the bathroom, which became a logistical nightmare, since there wasn't enough room to swing a dead cat, let alone give potty access to two squabbling kids. Anyway, there we sat, for 20 minutes...

Luckily, the funnel cloud did not touch down, just a partial formation (?!?) and so there was minimal wind damage. Some hail, no downed limbs.

Looking back at the event, I'm a little pissed that there is no warning siren here on base, like what we had where I grew up in Michigan. That damn tornado siren was tested once a week at noon like clockwork. It was supposed to be a civil defense/tornado siren. I always wondered what would happen if we were bombed or had a tornado at noon on the test day...

Oh well. Next time, I'll remember that "...30% chance of afternoon storms" really means TORNADO! Yeesh!

All Guts...No Glory.

2006-04-06T12:37:00.000-04:00

Spring has sprung in NC. The flowers are blooming, the trees are budding and opening leaves, and the beer-guts are once again on display!

Ugh!

You'd think, since I live on a USMC base, that everyone running around without a shirt on would be in tip-top condition. Nay, good citizens. Don't forget the civilian workers!

During lunch time, everything shuts down on base so the Marines and civilians can go and work out. (It's a PT 'thing'.) The Marines are in good shape, and I have NO PROBLEM enjoying the boys if they're running without a shirt on. It's the out-of-shape civilian guys who are jogging along creating eye pollution that I really object to.

Now I certainly don't profess to have washboard abs. In fact, I could do with a few (thousand) sit-ups, myself. Knowing this, I don't go running (OK, walking!) with just a jog bra on so my flabby tummy shows. I don't want to horrify my neighbors or anyone else who happens to see me. I try to be kind and wear a shirt while outside.

WHY, OH WHY do these out-of-shape guys PERSIST on going shirtless? It's gross! Burn-Your-Eyes-Out-NASTY!

There should be a law: If it jiggles, cover it up. Violators will be liposuctioned.

Felix Invades My Space.

2006-04-06T09:13:00.000-04:00

Last Friday, at 9:30 PM, we got a call from USMCMan's cousin telling us he was going to be 'in the area' and wanted to come see us on Saturday. TRANSLATION: I'm driving south to Florida from New York and need a place to crash and mooch for two nights.

Grrr.

The cousin, I'll call him FELIX, after Felix Unger from the Odd Couple, is an odd bird. He is almost 50, has never been maried, and is highly anal-retentive about cleanliness (hence, the Felix nickname). This fussiness is probably a big part of why he has never been married. Of course, since we had to say 'yes', that meant that I was in a whirlwind of cleaning on Saturday because when Felix comes to stay, everything is under the microscope. It means a lot of extra cleaning.

So Felix shows up--LATE--and wants to whine and moan about his life (no current job, rejected application at UofM grad school, girlfriend is 'needy'). USMCMan and I are just thinking, "Shut up so we can watch our movie!" Of course, he didn't. So much for renting a movie. Essentially, the whole weekend was wasted entertaining and feeding and touring Felix around.

Did I mention that Felix SNORED ALL NIGHT?!?!?

The only good thing about Felix is that he's like a really clever serial killer-- he leaves no trace. The bed was completely stripped made up with clean sheets when he left, the bathroom was spotless, the tub was wiped down. Mr. Anal.

I was still glad when he left on Monday morning.

Super-Sized Nausea.

2006-03-29T12:52:00.000-05:00

I finally rented and watched the documentary, 'Super Size Me'. If you haven't seen this, I highly recommend it. The plot: one man decides to eat ONLY McDonald's food for 30 days. He has to try everything on the menu at least once and when he orders, if the counter clerk asks if he wants it 'super sized', he has to say YES.

There were some other rules, but when you watch the movie, you'll get the list.

Anyway, he eats MacDo for 30 days and almost KILLS HIMSELF in the process. His liver just about shuts down--like an alcoholic's--his bad cholesterol goes off the charts, he became depressed and suffered migranes. In addition, he gained about 20 pounds. Ugh!

It was a great documentary, and really gets you thinking about what is actually INSIDE those little 'happy' meals. Did you know that only 5 items on the McDonald's menu don't have sugar in them? Coffee, iced tea, nuggets, french fries, and diet soda. Everything else, including the ketchup, is stuffed full of sugar.

The most interesting bit of info, in my opinion, was in the "extras" section on the DVD. The guy buys 6 or so typical McDonald's products, and two freshly-made (no preservatives) hamburger/french fry items, and puts them in big, covered bell jars in his office. There they sit, for week after week. By week 2, the freshly made items were moldy and deteriorating to the point where they were thrown out. THE MCDONALD'S PRODUCTS WERE JUST FINE.

By week 5 or so, the McDonald's burgers and fillet-o-fish were starting to molder. Not the french fries. By week 10 everything had FINALLY gotten moldy.. except the french fries. The fries looked as perfect as the day they were made. Doesn't make me want fast food anytime soon.

A frightening, frightening thing...when food can maintain its color/shape/look after 10 weeks of sitting in a jar. Makes you wonder if it even digests in our stomachs? Like the urban legend: all the gum you swallow is sitting undigested in your stomach. Maybe the fries are, too!

Have you seen this movie? Did you like it?

Suckin' My Cheerios.

2006-03-28T17:01:00.000-05:00

THIS WEEK, we learn that perhaps bacon might be good for us, after all. (Slightly genetically modified bacon, to be sure, but who's paying attention?)

LAST WEEK, we learned that eating too many antioxidant-filled foods could encourage certain kinds of cancer. (When I eat too many blueberries--antioxidant filled--it only seems to turn my poo blue.)

BEFORE THAT, we were encouraged to eat foods with fiber (NOT ANY MORE!), drink red wine, and snurf down chocolate...but only the dark chocolate. (Sorry, Easter Bunny.)

Is it just me? Are you as sick of these stupid food-alerts as I am? I think all these "studies" and "reports" are created by rival food-group lobbies and NONE of them are worth a damn. They're just created to either disparage or promote some food group.

Sometimes, I just feel like hiding under the bed and sucking on a few Cheerio's for nourishment. Unless now they're bad for me, too.

My philosophy is: as long as it is natural (not too processed or filled with chemicals) then GO AHEAD! EAT IT! Just eat in moderation. Don't sweat the small stuff. Eat your milk chocolate, gobble those blueberries, and toast a glass of wine each evening. Red OR white.

(That little bit of wisdom should be worth millions... but I'm sure CNN won't be calling me to speak my sage advice.)

What do you think? Do you pay ANY attention to the latest foodie warnings, or do you, like me, feel it is just not worth it anymore?

DESPERATE MEN! They're EVERYWHERE!

2006-03-27T21:48:00.000-05:00

All of my female friends are married. (Even the lesbians!) As for the males... I have several really, really nice male friends who aren't married. They're interested, but just can't find the right girl. They date, bathe regularly (or in the case of one--semi-regularly), have steady incomes. Some circumcized, some not... But they just can't find the right person.

How hard is it??? Well, maybe it's harder than I thought. There's a lot of male competition out there-- as I soon found out.

I did a little (highly) unscientific research. If you go to MySpace.com and, using the advanced Browse searching option, select: males, 18-35 ys, straight, looking for a date, zip code 28547 (which is my zip code), THERE ARE OVER 1500 men to choose from!!! In addition, since this is a military base, the majority of these men are: government employed, louse-free, drug tested on a regular basis, aids tested on a regular basis, and possessing lots of disposable income. They're also desperate to meet women, which makes this searching combination a gold mine for any girl looking for a fair shot at a good date. (Plus, they're Marines, so they're a cut above the rest physique-wise.)

I'm very sad that I am discovering this "meet a tasty treat to eat online option" in my married life. If I had had access to this as a single female... woooooo! It's like going to Dunkin' Donuts and looking at the rows and rows of yummy edibles. Mmmmmm. Donuts.... So many to choose from, so little time.

Oh well. My own little cream puff keeps me happy-- and that's what counts.

Try out my search and tell me what you think. A bevy of boys, that's for sure and certain!

Tea for Two -- Well, Maybe Just For Me.

2006-03-23T10:51:00.000-05:00

I love high tea. Little cakes and cookies, egg and cress sandwiches... scones with butter and jam. It's just so CIVILIZED.

USMCman mocks me (gently) for my being an Anglophile. "You loooove those British sit-coms with the tea and crumpets and actors with bad teeth!"

Yes, I do!

I realized that one of the nice things about British culture is its orderliness. Very reassuring. I like a little bit of order once in a while and I guess that's why I like high tea, BBC comedies, and all things Monty Python. (*SPAM*SPAM*SPAM*SPAM*)

USMCman can keep his PowerBars and protein powder. I'll take the scones with jam, thanks!

Gack The Cruds Are Back.

2006-03-19T18:26:00.000-05:00

I'm sick again.

I don't understand it--we wash hands constantly, use antibacterial gel when soap isn't available, and cover our mouths when we cough. BUT... Thing2 and I (and to some extent Thing1) are gacking our lungs out again. I have lost my voice and can only croak. We have eye goo oozing out of our tear ducts! Ewww!

I have a theory, though...

SHOPPING CARTS!

I think that since I do the shopping, and I take Thing2 with me, we are constantly touching dirty shopping carts and then being exposed to the germs. This theory is supported by the fact that Thing1 doesn't get sick as much (although he is surrounded by kids at preschool every day) and USMCMan is rarely sick as well. Just me and Thing2. Lucky us.

What do you think? Could the shopping carts be the culprits... or are we just weak seeds? Genetically unfit to survive in the germy world?

AACK! Another Birthday Party.

2006-03-14T12:44:00.000-05:00

We've received yet ANOTHER birthday party invitation for Thing1. He has 19 classmates and I have the feeling that each one of the little buggers is going to have a birthday during the school year.

I HATE ATTENDING KIDS' BIRTHDAY PARTIES!

Why can't the parents just say, "This year, you're going to have a party with just your family and next-door neighbor friend."? But they don't, and Thing1 comes home with an invitation envelope clutched in his hand on a weekly basis.

The majority of the school's parents feel that they have to invite everyone in their kids' class. This is stupid! Why would a parent want to obligate a family to come to a party and have to bring a gift, especially if the invited kid isn't special pals with the birthday kid? It's like "fishing for gifts" time.

My policy: a 'special' birthday party every other year. Off years are 'family only' parties. Invitations are sent out by mail for birthday parties (yes, I spend the stamp money!) and only to special friends. None of this carpetbomb-the-classroom-with-invitations crap.

We don't go to every party we get invited to. Sometimes, I have to put my foot down and say, "We just can't make it." for whatever reason. But DAMN, we've gone to so many of them this year! Plus, I have FOC (Fear Of Cake) and I hate birthday parties because they're known for having this evil dessert on a regular basis...

Snarl.

Bring On the Screwdrivers! (It's been a tough day.)

2006-03-10T20:01:00.000-05:00

It's 8:00pm and I'm just now having my first bit of peace and quiet since 6:30am when Thing1 decided to get up early and drop the toilet lid with a resounding *CRASH*. (At least he puts it back down, right?)

Normally, I'd kick back with a glass of wine and enjoy a good book. Not tonight!

I have NO WINE in the house.

None of my books are screaming, "read me!"

Huff.

I've decided to compromise by making a screwdriver (using ginger flavored vodka, which might be a mistake) and fast-forwarding through bits of Sin City. At least until I can come up with something better. It is rather lame, but it's all I can think of right now.

Any suggestions?

(PS: USMCman is out at a 'mess night', which is a dress-uniform event and doesn't include spouses. I had the fun task of de-linting his ass with a piece of packing tape when he put on his dress pants. Then I got to help him put on his shirt stays and garters! .)

Filled With Prescience...But Not Enough To Do A Damn Bit of Good.

2006-03-07T10:56:00.000-05:00

I have psychic powers. I get a "flash" of what will happen...and then it does! Unfortunately for my career as a superhero or national spy, my prescience only seems to happen about .05 seconds before the actual event. I'm like those cartoon characters who look up, get a glimpse of the Steinway piano falling down upon them, then *SMUSH!*. Too little, too late.

Case in point, this morning's "episode"...

I was popping my daily birth control pill out of it's maddeningly small foil packet and grousing about how annoying it was to try to remove such a teeny tiny pill from a pop-through foil pack. Suddenly, I thought: "I'd better be careful, I can just see myself popping this little bugger out and having it fall down the..."

"SHIT!"

Indeed, I'd pushed too hard and the micro-pill flew out of the foil and down into the sink.

"DOUBLE SHIT!" I screamed, frantic.

For those of you fortunate enough to not have to deal with birth control pills,
let me give you a short info blurb: If you miss one of them during your 21-day
cycle, it can mess up your entire month's worth of birth control chemistry,
therefore leaving you with the possibility of being fertile. NOT WHAT I
NEED. As an extra-special bonus, if you mess up one month, the following months can be affected, as well! It means using extra birth control, aka THE DREADED CONDOM, and I'd rather not, thanks. Nasty things.

So, there I am... horrified, and pissed off because I'd just thought about NOT dropping the pill--using my special precognitive powers, and then I did it anyway.

Friends, I was ready to take the gooseneck off the sink and lick the pill smear out of the u-bend. Yes, I was that desperate!

Then I saw it... a beautiful shimmer of lime-green on the far side of the drain plug. The pill had gotten caught in the edge of the rubber seal on the drain plug! HOORAY!!! I immediately grabbed my tweezers and fished it out--snurfed it right down. Disaster (narrowly) averted.

And so... I continue to hone my psionic skills, attempting to use my powers for good and not evil. If I only had some more lag time, I think I could give John Edward a run for his money.

Are you psychic? Or just psychotic?

Vanquishing the Black Plague

2006-03-02T13:45:00.000-05:00

For the past THREE WEEKS, I've been sick as a dog. Along with Thing2, I have used up 8 boxes of tissues (the kind with lotion, thanks!) and 10 vapor strips for the plug-in thingie. This was only a cold, but it kicked our asses! (I know it was a cold because Thing2 went through a week of antibiotics and nothing helped. Viral for sure.)

I can see why, back in the days of yore, people would just get wiped out like *snap* that. Cough, cough, plotz. At least I had the comfort of Vicks, Kleenex with Lotion, wine, and chocolate. If I were a serf back in the Middle Ages, I'd have just keeled over and croaked. We're still coughing and hacking, but at least it's not quite as bad. I had 5 hours of uninterruped sleep last night-- the most I've had in 28 days -- and I feel like a new woman.

News of the Odd: I just heard on the local NPR radio station that a 'flu-like cold' is sweeping North Carolina, hitting small children especially hard. (Cue the spooky music...) Yeesh. I may have to take responsibility for that one. I'm surprised we weren't boarded up in our house and set afire.

Interestingly enough, we haven't gotten the flu this year. (We did get flu shots.) Too bad there aren't cold shots, right?

Did you manage to escape the winter icks?

Death Comes In 3's. A short memorial.

2006-02-22T13:02:00.000-05:00

It's been a tough week. My two remaining grandparents have died--within seven days of each other. What are the odds of THAT? In addition, one of my oldest and dearest friends also lost her last grandparent during that same week. I'm convinced that deaths come in three's both in personal as well as celebrity life. (Once one famous celeb dies, two more are sure to follow. It's a given!)

Note: It has been surmised that since Grandpa went first, my Grandmother decided that she'd won their life-long pissing contest and could shuck off her own mortal coil. (They weren't married to each other, they were in-laws by marriage and had competed with each other for time/attention from my parents for over 40 years.) I can hear her saying to herself, "Heh! I finally one-upped that old bastard! Now I can go!"

It makes me sad, remembering all the fun things we used to do together when I was young. Here are three interesting things I'd like to share with you, one about each grandparent-- including my friend's grandmother.

Grandma R (my friend's grandma) used to live on a farm in Concord, MI. Her farm bordered land owned by infamous/famous rock legend Ted Nugent. (He still lives there.)One morning, we were dropped off at Grandma R's farm to spend the day and while sitting in the kitchen having a snack, in walked Ted Nugent! He had come over to return some sort of tool or farm item to Grandma R. Since we were freaked out at seeing Ted, Grandma R. reminded us of our manners by saying, "Girls, I'd like you to meet my neighbor, Theodore Nugent." SO COOL! Goodbye, Grandma R. You were a nice lady.
GrandpaB was a techno nerd long before it was hip to be a geek. He had the first available PCs when the rest of the world didn't think they would make it-- TRS-80s!!! I remember playing DOS-based computer games at his home (loaded up off of big square floppy disks) and learning how to DIR/ to locate my files and load them. He started learning computers when he was in his 60s, and kept on using them until his deteriorating eyesight prevented him seeing the screen. I don't think I would have become a libarian if I hadn't learned how to become comfortable with computers, thanks to GrandpaB.
Finally GrandmaG. She was a bitch, no doubt about it, but she had her very cool moments. I remember when I would visit for a week at her house in the summer--she used to order pizza . With the pizza, she'd buy a 6-pack of beer. We'd sit at the table and eat pizza and drink beer (I was only 12!) because, as she said, "You MUST drink beer with pizza. It just goes together." It was the only time she ever drank beer. It also made me realize that I wasn't very fond of beer. Even with the pizza chaser.

So, that's my sad week of woe. I'm still sick and yakking up green/yellow snot. Thing2 is still sick, but getting better. My diet has crashed for the week-- who can starve themselves while sick and sad? Not I. I fell off the wagon. Oh well, better luck next week, right? At least there aren't any more grandparents to croak off!

Hello Italy--Disco is Dead! The Olympics Go 70's...

2006-02-11T12:57:00.000-05:00

I'm a sucker for the Olympics. I love the competition and enjoy the pageantry. Last night, I planned to treat myself to a bit of the opening ceremonies for the XX Olympics in Torino, Italy: the artistic introduction and the Parade of Nations. I figured that Italy--being known for food, fashion, and fun--would probably put together a whiz-banger of an opener.

Oh, the humanity.

Everything was fine up until the Parade of Nations. That's where each country's participating athletes march into the stadium, accompanied by fanfare and cheering crowds. Usually, it is fun to see their special Olympic uniforms and watch the wonder on their faces as they proudly march, representing their countries.

Until this year.

This year, instead of music from Italy-- pop, alternative, world music, classical, SPAGHETTI WESTERN MUSIC, whatever!-- the organizers decided to play...

AMERICAN 70's DISCO MUSIC.

UGH! In marched Canada to 'YMCA'. If I were from Canada, I would have made the Congo athletes go in front of me in hopes of getting a less silly tune. ("No, go ahead, really!") What were the organizers thinking? Where's the national pride of Italy? What a shame. It really ruined the pageantry and dignity of the moment, having dopey disco music blaring in English.

I finally resorted to the MUTE button.

Did you see this? What do you think? Am I being over-bitchy?

Genographic Project

2006-02-08T13:28:00.000-05:00

Some people get flowers, chocolates, or champagne for Valentine's Day. I got a kit from the National Geographic Human Genome Project! (It was EXACTLY what I asked for, so don't feel sorry for me.) When you're on a diet and can't snurf down wine and chocolate in mass amounts, a totally inedible item is the perfect gift.

What is it? The Genographic Project is, briefly put, a mapping of the human species by means of their DNA. For women, it maps your ancestor's migration via mitochondrial DNA(mtDNA)--passed on only through female lineage, and for men, it is the same thing through a Y-DNA test.

I'm not going into the lengthy details of how it works, if you're interested, go to: The Genographic Project and check it out for yourself. My results should start showing up in about 4 weeks; test results are posted by anonymous number as the lab processes the DNA results, so I'll keep everyone updated. It will be great fun to see where my ultimate ancestors came from. (The females, anyway.)

Science~! It's not just for nerds any more!

You are CORRECT! (F-You, Mrs. Murphy!)

2006-02-07T13:33:00.000-05:00

When I was in 3rd grade, I had a horrible hag of a teacher named Mrs. Murphy. Her way of teaching students their times-tables was to publicly humiliate those that didn't memorize the charts up to 14X14 and publicly reward those who did by taking them out to McDonald's for lunch.

Let's just say this: I didn't get to go out to lunch that year.

My math skills were pretty average, but the constant screaming and verbal abuse from Mrs. Murphy seemed to set me back further, mathematically. It was like I got brain-freeze when I thought about doing multiplication/division/addition/subtraction. I just locked up and couldn't recite my times-tables.

One school day, Mrs. Murphy said to me in a deliberately loud voice, "Girls aren't as good as boys at math, and you're worse than most." I have a witness to this statement who will back me up on this 100%. Can you believe that a person calling herself a TEACHER would say that to a child? She succeeded in giving me a fear of math that has lasted throughout my whole life.

As previously mentioned, I've been working on a fundraiser project for Thing1's school. The woman who was supposed to supervise the fundraiser found out that her husband was returning home (after a year in Iraq) during the middle of this fundraiser. She begged me to take her place because she knew she'd be busier than a one-legged man in an ass-kicking contest and wouldn't be able to concentrate on the minutia of tallying orders and counting checks/cash and placing the order so that the correct number/type of items arrives to be distributed. I said 'yes', but with trepidation... I'd have to be dealing with MONEY and that means MATH.

Cut to the chase: my enormous pizza fundraiser tallied out PERFECTLY. My cash intake was correctly tallied, the different amounts of the 20 different products were counted and ordered correctly. Even the school's profits were spot-on! I was dealing with THOUSANDS of dollars and I got it right on the first shot! I am so proud of myself--as well as relieved that it's over and all I have to do is help distribute pizzas and deposit the checks.

The moral of the story: one bad teacher can't ruin your life, but they can continue to hurt you in painful little ways. It can be overcome!

Have you ever had a really AWFUL teacher? Your very own Mrs. (or Mr.) Murphy? Do tell!

Postscript: To continue this tale of terror, I was assigned to Mrs. Murphy for 4th grade, as well! She "moved up" with us. I was in mortal fear of this woman every day for 2 months, and then one day, she wasn't in class and we had a substitute. We were informed that, "Mrs. Murphy has been diagnosed with a brain tumor and will be out for the rest of the school year pending treatment." It was like the finger of FATE had descended to say, "You going to get what's coming to you...."

Showing Some Resolve...

2006-02-02T19:27:00.000-05:00

Along with losing my excess poundage, I also have the following resolution:

WRITE MORE SMUT!

Yes, I enjoy writing and used to have a fledgling career as a romance writer. Unfortunately, I've been over-scheduling lately and by the time Thing1 and Thing2 are in bed and I've finished chores and doing all my "volunteer" jobs-- I'm just plumb tuckered out. No energy to ACT romantic, let alone THINK romantically (or grammatically)!

THUS... my third New Year's Resolution was born. NO MORE VOLUNTEERING.

Other than the things I am already committed to doing in the upcoming five months, I am NOT going to volunteer to do more things. I've paid my dues for a while.

I find myself hard-pressed to tell people "NO" when they ask me for help on a project or with a school or USMC event. It's easy to say no to strangers who want you to do unreasonable reference research, but it's hard to tell the smiling neighbor "f-off" when she needs help organizing a spring block party. (Plus, I might find my mailbox demolished one day-- her husband is a tanker.)

How to balance my life and time? Practice? Isolationism? Large quantities of alcoholic intake (which violates resolution #1)? HELP?!!

I'm really trying to get back to writing... starting next week after I finish organizing a school pizza fundraiser...

Must not sleep...must stay awake...

Pre-Valentine's Day Lust-- Mr. Darcy and His Tight Trousers!

2006-02-01T12:58:00.000-05:00

A few days ago, I went off to see the newest version of 'Pride & Prejudice', starring Kiera Knightley (just nominated for an Oscar for her part). It was a wonderful rendition of the story, though 2 hours and 10 minutes are just not enough to do the story justice.

As I watched the movie, I found myself mesmerized by Mr. Darcy, played by the broodingly handsome Matthew Macfadyen. Mmmmm. Brooding men. Yummy! The party of Mr. Darcy is a pivotal character, but he doesn't say much throughout the first 1/3 of the movie-- he's usually being snobby and silent. Or glowering at Elizabeth Bennet and her silly siblings. Be that as it may, I couldn't keep my eyes off of him! YOWZA! I really think that men are doing themselves a disservice by not having at least ONE pair of Hessian boots, ass-fitting tight pants, and a cutaway riding coat with matching stock. That is a sexy, yummy look.

Coming home from the movie, I was in a state of sexual high dudgeon (oh, just look it up!). I pounced on USMCman and asked, "Would you wear a Mr. Darcy outfit for me on Valentine's Day?" He gave me a suspicious look. "Does it mean I have to wear a g-string?" "NO! Just boots, tight jodhpurs, a white linen shirt, and nothin' else!" USMCman nodded his agreement, but I think he was just relieved to not be packed into a g-string.

Of course, nothing would do but for me to get out my A&E DVD of the '95 classic version of P&P, starring Colin Firth--who is on my list of manly edibles as it is--so I could compare the two versions and get more manly-man viewing. Again, let me say, YOWZA! If you want to watch a story with sexual tension, humor, and beyond-beautiful scenery, this is the movie for you. One of my all-time favorite movies and stories.

However, I don't know that Matthew Macfadyen quite lives up to the brooding Mr. Darcy character as well as Colin Firth. What do you think?

Can't Take Any More Door-To-Door!

2006-01-26T13:52:00.000-05:00

I refuse to go door-to-door selling "products" for Thing1's school fundraisers. I REFUSE. Remember back in the days of yore when we were sent out into the neighborhood without so much as a BB Gun for protection? We'd gleefully bang on all our nieghbors' doors selling magazine subscriptions, cheap candy bars, or pre-packaged popcorn in crappy tin cans, completely ignorant of all dangers. Pay no attention to the pedaphiles, freaks, or perverts, kids! Don't forget to ask 'em if they want a subscription to TEEN BEAT!

Not anymore. If my kid has a fundraiser for his school, I'll buy products myself and that's IT. I'm not sending Thing1 door-to-door with a clipboard and a pencil. Even though this is a military base, it just isn't safe for a 5-year old to be pounding the pavement. Did you know that several people actually own PIT BULLS on our street? How stupid is THAT??? Fucking dangerous dogs! (And YES, I stand by that statement. Trained or untrained, Pit Bulls are so crazily inbred now that they are not trustworthy around strangers. Dangerous dogs.)

I also hate it when other peoples' kids come to MY door and then I feel obligated to buy because I don't want to be "mean" to the neighbors. One of my New Year's resolutions was to harden my heart and say 'no thank you' to kids when they sell stuff. If I don't need it or want it, FORGET IT. So far, though USMCman has been suckered into buying 4 chocolate bars. (I wasn't home to put the foot down on that one, so he gets a 'pass'.)

Do you get conned into buying stuff sold by neighborhood kids? Or do you sic your dogs on them?

Gym Rat News... and Flying Bodily Fluids.

2006-01-24T12:30:00.000-05:00

I've been very good about going to the gym at least 4 nights/week. Tuesdays and Thursdays are NO-GYM nights for me because USMCMan has ju-jitsu class (crazy-ass-boy!) and by the time he gets home, it's too late to get to the gym before it closes.)

As an aside--since January 1st, I've lost 7 pounds, so I'm happy about that. I hope I'm up to 8 by the end of this month. We'll see how it goes...

The USMC gyms are well-stocked with equipment and free weights. I've been in much worse gyms (remind me to BLOG the "gym with the pizza bar" story some time...) and I appreciate the variety and quality of the equipment.

HOWEVER... there's a bit of an ODOR PROBLEM in the gym. Given that 95% of the people there are sweaty 18-20 year olds, I guess this is understandable, but I don't think that it is unreasonable to put in some sort of super-sized air freshener. Do you? I mean, does 24-Hour Fitness have a stink problem? Gold's?

Yes, the gym provides clean workout towels. Yes, there are squirty bottles/rags to clean off the equipment. The worker bees swab the deck with cleaning fluid. Nothing works! The Marines just plain REEK of testosterone and sweat. GAG. Do men not know when they smell bad? I suspect that some of these guys wear the same workout clothes for several workouts in a row. EEEW! Do men even bother to wash their clothes after they work out, or is it just not considered manly? (NOTE: I am not asking USMCman this question because I don't want to know his answer. DOUBLE EEEW.)

In addition to the odor, the temperature is easily in the 80s with 100% humidity. HOT, SWEATY, and STINKY. Not a great combination for a zen-type workout. I get to the gym at around 8pm. By 9pm, the 'after-dinner' exercisers have left and the fans/AC begin to gain an edge on the heat and the stink, but COME ON! It's like working out in a terrarium. A terrarium with smelly reptiles. (Cute, smelly reptiles, but still smelly.)

I was using a seated leg-press and the guy who was doing dips on the dip bar to my left actually DRIPPED SWEAT ON ME! I was so yukked out! I don't mind sweating at the gym and I expect everyone who's working out hard to BE sweaty, but for God's sakes, keep your bodily fluids to yourself! Bleach. He never even noticed my not-so-subtle scrubbing of his sweat off of my arm. Nasty, nasty, naaaasty. Trauma.

As the weather begins to warm up around here, things will only get worse. I may need to just switch to those new, over-the-counter blue diet pills. Hmmm. Intestinal distress vs. stinky men? How to choose...?

Baggy Eyes Are Watching Me...

2006-01-20T12:37:00.000-05:00

I'm being watched... by the bloodhoud that lives next-door.

Every time I go out of my house, he's at his fence, staring at me. This is getting a little strange because usually he's passed out in a dead sleep 98% of the time. As soon as I open the door he ambles over to the fence and stares.

When USMCMan goes out-- nothing. Flopped out.
When Thing1 or Thing2 go outside-- no movement.

When I leave my door, THERE HE IS!

I know that bloodhounds have super-sniffing-abilities, so that's probably how he knows that I'm coming out the door, but then, DOES THAT MEAN THAT I STINK??? Do I have some eau de criminal about me that tells him, "get up and take a gander"?

(Yes, I DO bathe daily, if you're wondering. I also use soap.)

Am I the recipient of a dog fetish?

Primary Urges...and Cream Cheese.

2006-01-11T12:40:00.000-05:00

I'm noticing that as I continue to deny myself junk food (remember: diet time), I am beginning to obsess about certain things.

chocolate
Cheetos
cream cheese

The fact that these items all begin with 'C' has not escaped my notice. Subliminal mind control from the media? Perhaps. Anyhoo, I am fixated on obtaining and consuming mass quantities of these items. Together, apart, I don't care.

To date, I have managed to withstand off the temptation to: take 1 block of Philly cream cheese, fold in 1 snack bag of Flamin' Hot Cheetos, sandwich it between two bars of Hershey's milk chocolate... then scuttle behind a piece of furniture and devour my kill. Must not crack under the pressure...

I always believed that my comfort foods were things like: pizza, fresh bread, and hot cookies. In the face of adversity, it appears that I'm much more pedestrian.

What are YOUR ultimate comfort foods?

Cheap Old Bastard at The Chick-- The Saga.

2006-01-09T19:07:00.000-05:00

I took Thing2 to Chick-fil-A (a local southern restaurant) today because we had time to kill and the menu at THE CHICK (as we like to call it) has healthy options. The Chick isn't cheap, but the food is excellent. Far better than McD's and the interior of the restaurant is immaculate.

As we walked in the door, a late-60's man in a cobalt blue Corvette pulled up in the primo parking space. (The primo space is the one closest to the door without being the handicap spot.) It really was a pretty car--rag top and sparkling clean--and I couldn't help noticing it.

After ordering my Southwest Salad, large non-sweetened iced tea, and Thing2's kiddie meal (4 chicken pieces, fruit salad, milk)-- I paid out $9.12 and waited for my order to show up.

The Corvette man orders: one grilled chicken salad and a water. He hands the counter worker a coupon. She looks at it and says, "That will be $4.15, please." Mr. Vette shrieks, "WHAAAAAT? Didn't you LOOK at the coupon?" With a confused expression, the worker looks at the coupon and says, "Yes, sir, and the sandwich is free, you're just being charged the cost of the salad."

Glancing at the coupon (since I was standing right next to him at the counter), I could see that it was a coupon for a free chicken sandwich. Since these are about $2.50, that's a pretty good coupon. OR SO I THOUGHT... IT WAS ABOUT TO GET BETTER!

Vette man gives the counter worker an exasperated look and says, "I want to use this coupon for my salad." (The DUH was unsaid, but understood.) The woman looks confused and says, "But it's for a free sandwich, sir, not for the salad." Then Vette-Bastard (as I am now terming him) says, "I want to use the cost-price of the sandwich as a discount off my salad. I'll pay whatever is left over. It's very simple." All said in a snotty tone.

At this point, I am BITING MY TONGUE to keep quiet. The CHEAP VETTE-BASTARD ASSHOLE was trying to screw The Chick out of some chump-change by browbeating the poor counter worker with his coupon scam!

Unfortunately, I could see how it was all going to come out. The worker was completely at a loss and called the manager. The manager called the supervisor. The supervisor took one look at the guy and thought, "ASSHOLE ALERT" and just gave him the discount.

I have seen this type of thing time and time again at public libraries. People decide they have a right to SOMETHING and no matter how half-assed it is, they stick with it in the meanest way until the public service worker they're fighting with caves in and gives it to them-- just to get the problem person out of the area. It was the same at The Chick.

Should I have said anything? I decided 'not'. It wasn't any of my business and it wasn't my restaurant or my job to interfere. It annoyed me, though. Pissed me right off. So, on the way out, I let Thing2 walk past his oh-so-shiny car and touch it with her very, very sticky hands... I hope it costs him more than $2.50 to get the fruit and grease off!

Would you have said anything?

Classic Movie ALERT!!!

2006-01-05T16:27:00.000-05:00

I was thrilled to see that Turner Classic Movies is having a Hayao Miyazaki film salute this month. Considered to be the Steven Spielberg of Japanese movies, Hayao Miyazaki specializes in Japanese anime and manga movies. I LOVE THEM!

Tonight, starting at 8pm on TCM, is the fabulous Spirited Away. It is a wonderful film and well worth watching. In fact, this film won the Oscar for Best Animated Feature in 2003 (plus a score of other awards).

I think what I like best about Miyazaki's films is the sense of detail in the backgrounds that makes the viewer accept them as REAL, even though they may be completely mystical in nature. Each Thursday night, TCM will play another Miyazaki movie. I am particularly partial to: Spirited Away, Princess Mononoke (watch Mother Nature go ballistic!), Pom Poko and Kiki's Delivery Service.

Take my advice-- watch one of Miyazaki's movies during January. You'll love them!

Lardbody to Hardbody? Maybe...

2006-01-04T10:02:00.000-05:00

Being inspired by The Illustrated Librarian's ongoing successes (kudos!), I have gotten my act together and returned to the gym. (I am also dieting, but that is another whine...) Yeek!

Prior to Thing1 and Thing2, I used to go to the gym with my husband so we could work out together. Since it's tag-team babysitting at this point in our lives, I need to go by myself or take a neighbor friend. No biggie.

I laugh at myself because the gym I go to is a Marine Corps gym, and I am SO NOT a Marine! (I think the pink 'VAMPIRES' workout t-shirt kind of gives it away.) So here I am, lifting weights and using the aerobic machines in a desperate attempt to tone up and lose weight while all around me are 20-year-old studly men in the prime of their lives. Talk about "one of these things is NOT like the others!" It is very motivating to be surrounded by sweaty men, I must admit, and my workouts are excellent.

I'll have to admit, none of the guys bothers me or harasses me in the slightest. In fact, they go out of their way to be polite and considerate. It's ironic, though... ten years ago, I'd have been leering at the eye candy with open abandon. Now, I'm just trying to make sure I don't pull a muscle or fall off of a machine and break my tailbone! Oh, how things have changed.

I will be sure to post updates on my new gym rat adventures.

Reader's Rights -- Rules to Read By.

2005-12-30T14:58:00.000-05:00

I had a nice Christmas -- my mom and dad visited and it was great to be able to dump Thing1 and Thing2 off with their grandparents so I could pursue a few fun activities. Like sleeping in...

My mom was trying to slog through a book that I remember being forced to read in college, The Dollmaker. This is an extremely depressing and mentally exhausting book. I hated it when I read it and asked my mom WHY IN GOD'S NAME was she putting herself through that awful book --especially during the joyful Christmas season when there were much more entertaining books to be had.

She said her book club had selected it, and now that she'd started the book, she felt obligated to finish. AAAAAUGH! Mom was IMMEDIATELY given a copy of Pennac's "Reader's Bill of Rights". They are as follows:

A reader has...

The right not to read.
The right to skip pages.
The right to not finish.
The right to reread.
The right to read anything.
The right to escapism.
The right to read anywhere.
The right to browse.
The right to read out loud.
The right to not defend our tastes

I especially like the RIGHT NOT TO FINISH right.

Why is it so hard for readers to follow any/all of these rules? Why do we feel that we must finish, must read "valid literature" and must defend our tastes? STRIKE A BLOW FOR READERS EVERYWHERE! Follow these rights, embrace them as your own. You'll be happier for it.

PS. My mom still finished The Dollmaker and was completely depressed at the end. She felt like she'd wasted a good read. It's a crappy book and if she'd stopped reading and moved on, she would have been much happier.

PSS. I re-read the Jacqueline Carey 'Kushiel' series for the 4th time over Christmas and LOVED it all over again. Ha!

Parts is Parts.

2005-12-21T11:18:00.000-05:00

I've been busy and I apologize for not blogging earlier. I do what I can, ya know?

Here's the thought for the day. WHY do stores sell chicken labeled as "parts"? We all know what is edible on the chicken. Usually this is right on the package. Why even use the word PARTS? You never see 'beef parts' for sale. Or 'fish parts'. Why sell chicken parts? It's rather nasty sounding.

I suppose it is for determining whether or not you want all the internal organs PLUS your meat as opposed to just (for example) breasts or thighs.

Makes me want to be a vegetarian. Probably healthier, anyway.

As they say...parts is parts and them's pieces parts!

That's How the Cookie Crumbles.

2005-12-13T13:18:00.000-05:00

I may be deluding myself, but I seem to remember Christmas as being RELAXING and FUN. Now, all I can think about is "Gotta get the gifts boxed and wrapped...haven't gotten the cards sent out...need to shop for cookie ingredients..."

Christmas is NOT fun! It's a pain in my ass!

Somehow, I have gotten caught up in the futile attempt to recreate my memories of Christmas instead of just working on making my own Christmas traditions and memories. Very stupid of me.

Nonetheless, I can't escape my current path of destruction. Today, I have to get ALL of my Christmas cards written and mailed out. Plus make fudge (did it!), plus make the gingerbread cookie dough.

Maybe I'll just pop open a bottle of wine and get snookered, instead. Sure would be more relaxing...

What are you all doing for Christmas?