Sunday, July 30, 2006

The Mortification of Me

Anyone who reads this blog knows that my house can be described as, well, a mess. Perhaps a shambles. A shambling mess. Truthfully, a disastrous 'Flylady would run screaming from this putrid inferno of dirt and rubbish' mess.

Anyone who reads this blog also knows that I live in a different dimension than my neighbors, the moms' club moms, and most people in the city I live in.

So, that being said. Let me introduce....

My New Neighbor.

Alas, could it be, a new neighbor? What, what is that person doing, walking down the road, with a dare I think it, toddler? Perchance, a two-year old toddler? Toddling down the road? Toward, no she wouldn't, yes, she's making her way over here, mimicking her little girl's toddly toddler steps... what Do I do? Panic panic panic.

So she comes over and says hi. She told me her name, but I have no clue what it is. I can tell she's secretly pleased that my boys are the appropriate age for her daughter. She's probably thinking 'playgroup potential' and the kids all settle down with chalk while we sit down and chat on my half-dead lawn. All is going well. So I think. It should, right? Nothing could go wrong. My lawn is done, and looks nice currently...
But oh no. It would have to happen. Little Toddler falls and scrapes her knee.

Note to readers: my personal reaction to scraped knees is, whatever, here's a paper towel, wipe off the blood, and go back to playing in the dirt. I can't help it. I've never known a kid to get infected from a scraped knee. Later on, once we get in, I'll throw the obligatory neosporin on it, but that's about it. Anyhow, in this dimension, where I live, that's not the standard reaction.

I am hoping she lives in my dimension. You see, the house, the debris in the house, it isn't meant for the eyes of folks in Suburbian Dimension 34479, it's okay for those in SD's 3300-34450, but those dimensions were filled, and I was put here. Oh how I long for SD 33439, it was nice there... I digress.

I invite her in to wash her kid's knee. I didn't really have a choice, she gave me that plaintiff "I don't want to walk all the way home can I use your faucet" look. So she goes in, up my unvacuumed debris-strewn turquoise carpet, ripped up at the top of the stairs for the impending floor repair (this weekend, promises McRed Floorman) turns left at the laundry pile (clean, folded and mostly in the basket but still) walks over the subflooring (see McRed Floorman) over the nice part of the floor and turns right into the sticky-stain vinyl floored kitchen with spaghetti dishes piled to the faucet, McDonalds on the table (and floor) and leftover breakfast yogurt (I had to run out the door at 9:30 a.m. I didn't have time to clean!) as well as the piles and piles of junk mail I haven't gone through yet (in case some of it is important) and the tools McRed Floorman will be using on the floors, and of course she can see the screen door with blue tape on the screen (I have to fix the screens this week, yes yes leave me alone) and says 'it's okay. I believe in a fun house or a clean house, not both.' Ahh the lies. Anyone who says that actually has a clean house, but wants you to think they aren't hung up about it, and pretends it's dirty. Those without clean homes (aka, me) are constantly paranoid about it, and think life would be kinda nifty and fun in an actual clean home...

So then we all go back outside, and the moment my other neighbor came out, she beelined it over there. See, my neighbors, the ones I usually speak of, are from SD 34479, and always have clean houses and nice lawns. This new neighbor is clearly from this dimension as well, and while Gravy tells me not to give up on her yet, I can tell an SD 34479er from a mere messy SD 34439er.

I'm pretty sure she will never engage me in conversation again, however, I refuse to give up. Why, just today, as I was taping my daughter's room for the Lizzie McGuire Orange paint that is going to don her walls as of tomorrow night, I saw her, and yelped out a big friendly loud "HI!"

She said a quick 'Hi' and she and her toddler toddled on back...

So. Now we've met the new neighbor.

Tuesday, July 25, 2006


Think of me, I'm going in.

It's going to end. All of it. I'm going to conquer Laundria. She's such a slobby bitch.

She's a weed, only she thrives in your home, and if you're not careful, in your cars, too.

She told me she's never ever going to leave, and that she will be with me forever, lurking around every corner, couch, chair, cushion seats, halls, foyers, closets and beds.

I told her she is going to remain a contained, barely perceptible presence in this household.

I've devised new tactics.

Drama, 9, has just been taught to do her own laundry. An offshoot of the mother beast, my daughter's creature lurks hidden in her closet, under her bed, under her pillows, and yes, even in her toy bins, as well as the blatantly obvious 'all over the floor' locale.

Toddlers A and B no longer wear clothes. I am only dressing them when we leave the house.

McRed's clothes will be washed the day they are worn.

I will kill Laundria once and for all!!!


Saturday, July 22, 2006

Dumbest quote

Well, one of the dumbest.

Sunset Magazine, a gift from my sister in her attempt to make sure I never move to an opposite coast from her again... (She went to Washington State, I went to England, she went to Japan, I went to California, she went to California, I went back to England, she moved to Oregon, we went to D.C. Finally, we moved closer to her, to the immense relief of my father who really just felt that as sisters we should live near each other, but just to be annoying, we moved one state above her... ha ha ha)

It's a good magazine, lots of cute garden ideas I fail to execute as well, lots of good weekend-travel tips and vacation ideas... If she loves me, she'll renew my subscription next Mother's Day, riiigghhht?

But this quote killed me. Here's the background, it's about a vacation ranch in Montana:

"Mountain Sky is how God would design a guest ranch if he had the money."

Ummm. Gee. I bet God is just thinking, 'you know, he's right, if I DID have the money, I'd do Mountain Sky, but gee, I don't. All I have are the tools of creation. Dang, too bad. It's a good thing somebody down there does have the money to charge people to enjoy nature. Because it's not like nature was ever at one time free.

"Why, back in the day, I remember when Adam and Eve were evicted from the garden. Oh it wasn't just illicit apple picking, no, they like to make it out as though it was a slight misunderstanding, but the truth is, Adam couldn't keep a job, it's why his first wife, Lilith, left him, and Eve was no better than Adam. He was six months behind on his rent but Eve would come crying to me about the alimony he had to pay Lilith and it wasn't his fault and oh just one more chance, but finally, I had to boot him, and that ended my interest in real estate.

"I chased them out, and handed over all land management to Lucifer, who it turns out was in the middle of an affair with Eve, and I should have just washed my hands of the whole thing back then, but no, I felt I had a duty. Frankly, it got to me, I took it too personally, and lost my temper and flooded the whole place, and then felt guilty, so felt I owed it to them to give them another chance, and see how that worked out, but I digress.

"If I was still in the nature and real estate gig, I would probably open up guest ranches like Mountain Sky. It is tempting, even now, but, all my money is tied up in investments elsewhere. I had a great creation-gig going on in a galaxy far far away until some nefarious power-grubber ventured in, so I've left that galaxy and am starting on another universe entirely, but this one, completely void of the traits that slipped in with humans. I've altered free-will a bit and tweaked 'guilt' and 'sense of responsibility to nature' a bit. Nature will be free for all to enjoy, because all creatures will be bound to the greater spirit of the planet so thoroughly, their skin will be varying shades of colors found in nature. That was a touch I just HAD to add. I can't wait, it's going to be brilliant.

"Also, the concept of advanced weaponry or architecture will make them unbelieveably sad, so they will stick to dancing in meadows and chasing creatures with arrows for dinner. My greatest trick yet, however, is the isolation of what I deem to be the most devastating gene of all... and I've ensured this creation doesn't have it... yes, that's right, I've found and eliminated the gene responsible for 'economics.' I'm very excited. We'll see how free will works without it.

"As for the sons of Adam and Eve, yes yes I've neglected them it's true, but really, it's not like they ever listened to me anyhow. Look at them, look what they've done to my masterpiece... wars, global warming, financial institutions, pavement, skyscrapers, nonbiodegradable products, that Lahdeedah's back yard just brings me to tears... and so much more, it never ends.

"It makes me furious every time my eye turns that way. I'm afraid if I get involved again, I'll make true on a promise I spouted in anger, and send my four horsemen in to wipe the slate clean. Once they go in, I'll let Earth, the poor doll, heal for a couple millenia, and start with something new, maybe I'll save a few dolphins and let them evolve to have opposable thumbs, see what they can't do."

Friday, July 21, 2006

Heeaatt waaveee

It's 102 degrees right now. I'm losing weight just by existing.

We don't have air because air isn't a big thing in the Northwest. Oh, I think the new homes being built all have air, but homes built a whole decade ago or longer, not a priority. So, the basement is the place to be. But for some reason, the children would rather be up in the hot part of the house lingering around me. I haven't actually done much today, because it really is just too damn hot, and we wouldn't want me passing out from heat exhaustion now would we?

Toddler Bear is still crashed in his room, which has no fan. It has no fan because all they do is shut the fan off. No matter how hot it is. So we grabbed it. I just sent Drama girl out to set up the sprinkler and as soon as grumpy Bear wakes up, I'm going to let them run around in the water.

Tomorrow if McRed doesn't go for my 'seek the air conditioned mall idea, Drama and I are hitting the lake and leaving McRed and toddlers to their merry selves. We'd take them, but not sure I can sell McRed because of the large crowd that will be there.

Wednesday, July 19, 2006

The Stay at Home Daddies and their bad evil influence on my husband

We have stay at home daddies in our neighborhood. Two that I know of. One actually works, but is home more than at work, and in fact, is home most of the day, along with his wife. The other guy doesn't work at all, but damn, does he have a mean lawn. There is no greener lawn, no better-sheared hedge, pruned bush or unshaped evergreen than his. There will be no dandelions on his watch... this is all good and well. I'm all up with the equal opportunity 'stay-at-homers' be they woman, man or creature from outer space, but undertand that ALL all I hear every night when my husband comes home yet AGAIN to the dads bonding over lawnmowers and hedge trimmers, kids dancing in their perfect green lawns, is

"What do they DO? How come they are always HOME? What does that guy DO for a living? How come I CAN'T BE THE DAD THAT'S ALWAYS HOME.' and then he looks at me... because clearly, the secret of a stay at home dad...

lies in a working mom....


What was I thinking!!!

I went to a mom's club event (shoosh all, just shoosh) in the hopes the few moms I kinda like would be there. The day was kinda nice, it wasn't bad. I engage one of the mom's in a conversation and she asks me how I do it, with all the kids (three) and school and I said, "I don't. I'm a mess."


I am not like that. I normally say things like, 'Yeah, it keeps me busy,' but a personal observation like that! OMIGOSH. WTF and I'm not REALLY a mess. I'm just disorganized, my mind is chaotic, my backyard an embarassment, my house never clean and my papers rushed last minute frantically before deadline, but I'm not really a mess! WHY I DID I SAY THAT! Because even if I was a mess, I'd only admit it to like, two people I know, and they are on the other coast! I might mention it to McRed, being married to him, but come on.

Now I'm just mortified at the words that came out of my mouth.

I mean who really wants to hear that shit?

Hopefully, she'll just forget about it. Or, after talking to the other mom who moved my truck, think I just meant I'm messy, as in a slob, which brings me to my....

Tip of the Day:

If there is a remote possibility that somebody will have to move your car, because perhaps you're on a boat and someone wants to leave the event RIGHT AWAY, make sure you um, CLEAN the damn thing out.

One of the moms had to move my truck for me. The passenger side is littered, from the floorboard, under the passenger seat, the sides between the door and the seat, the seat itself, and the cup holders with: mail, cups, sparkly water cans, starbucks cups, sticky change, papers, directions, shopping lists, receipts, library books, toddler backpacks, keys et al, and then the back seat... you get the idea...

Mortification factor: High.

well, take me as I am!
But I'm not a mess.
Just verbally challenged!
And mess-Y

Tuesday, July 18, 2006

Wilderness garden

I found TREES trying to grow in my lawn in the back yard! YIKES.

I will not be daunted. I WILL conquer that small square of suburban not-even-an-acre-age. I planted the plants I ordered in the spring, when I felt naively that I could maintain the back wilderness. I waited so long to plant them, however, I fear they may be dead. There were many brown leaves and not a lot of green, and we're in the dry season. The whole month and a half of dry season. But I felt obligated. It's also really too late to plant.

My tomato plant is cleverly hidden from pests by a mound of what appears to be Thai Basil. The strawberries are also lost in basil, and my sunflowers choked. I don't actually mind the sunflowers being choked. From what I understand, sunflowers would just make the whole back worse. It is mid-July. This weekend I'm going to do more weed whacking. Love the weed whacker.

I could just wait til everything dies in the fall, but that just seems, well, laazy. Practical, but practical in a lazzzy way.

Inside, I pulled up some hallway carpet for McRed to lay down the rest of the laminate 'kids can't trash this' flooring.

We are sooo Split-Level Americana. Vinyl flooring in the kitchen, laminate mock-wood in the living room, idiot gardening in the back, chalk drawings in the driveway and sidewalk and the harried crazy lady chasing shoe-less toddlers down the road... but I digress...


to top that off, I got my Barnes and Noble book order in and found, to my chagrin, they shipped me More Than a Carpenter instead of 'Math, Grade 3," I mean, how are they even close? One, a discussion about Jesus and his life, another, mulitiplication and fractions.... WTH? The book cost less than the shipping to return it would.

Sunday, July 16, 2006

Yard gone wild

We tamed the front yard. My neighbor saw me, shears, and my unruly weird bush thing, and walked over with an electric thingamabob that shaped and trimmed the sucker just fine. Thank you neighbor, I knew it was only a matter of time before you caved to the sorry sight of me failing miserably at yard work, and handed over your cool garden tools. Just for that, I won't say a word about your seemingly pastel fuzzy morning slippers. It was early, they coulda been red and terry cloth.

I got McRed to help me. Mainly, my complete mower blow-out showed him just how serious I was when I said 'I have no clue what I'm doing.' Turns out, I didn't blow up the mower. I just put too much oil in, and it was burning all the oil. Hubby McRed dumped some out, mowed the front lawn, weed-wacked and weed-killed (I'm organic as can be, and tend to pull them, he went straight for the round-up) and even pruned. I finally got him to agree to an every other Sunday work-on-lawn-and-bond time. Go me. The kids had a blast. Being outside wore them out so much they actually napped.

Now our front yard looks actually decent, which means I need to plant some shade plants and change the dead plants in the containers to live ones.

As for the back yard, well now that the front is in order, I can go back to pulling, killing, and whacking everything I don't like. I did get quite a ways through it, but have so much more to do. We're probably going to end up roto-tilling it in September and not August like I thought. I'm not that fast at yard work. And, yes, I can't help myself. Despite swearing I wouldn't plant anything, I have this one nice bed that's all empty... and all these plants... heee heee.... but only in beds, and not along the fence. Yikes.

I hate being the one with the backyard that makes neighbors go, 'well, our yard could be worse, it could be theirs....' heh.

Oh and SWEETNESS my artichoke is coming in!!!

Friday, July 14, 2006


My house is....


***except for our bedroom, which houses our sentient laundry, and let me tell you, that beast is a slob.

***also excepting Drama's room, but she's a tween, and her room exists in another dimension, the tweenzone, and doesn't really count as part of our house.

A moment to ponder more anger, hatred and suffering

In the middle east, has there ever not been hatred and war?

Well the news is on about major escalations, bombings, retaliations, and Israel's accusations that Lebanon isn't doing enough, and so are a valid target, and that Syria and Iran are also enemies, and there goes those years of tentative almost-but-not-quite peace, in THAT section.

And we've got the U.N. rushing over to try for peace in an area of the world that doesn't seem to really want peace. Or rather, an area of the world that wants peace only if it comes with getting their way and not compromising. I realize this is a great oversimplification. Oh but don't fear, we got good ole George W-uh at the helm, he'll steer this all aright with his foreign diplomacy talents and eye on the big picture ... ahhh ah ha ha ha ha ha...

So here's to crossing fingers and holding breaths that this thing eases up, without actually expecting it to.

Here's my oversimplification, ever since I was a child, there's been fighting in the middle east. Since the beginning of time these people have been fighting. I am not sure they will ever stop. I can't imagine an event occurring great enough to bring peace to that region. And how many innocent people die to propogate senseless wars?

Thursday, July 13, 2006


I'm now addicted to Hex.

It's creepy. It's eerie. It's spooky. And, it's got a lesbian ghost! What more could you ask for?

Gnomish Warriors

Who needs real people, when I've got gnomes, dwarves and elves to play with?

Tonight I made level 5! In one night! This is not a huge accomplishment, but for me, well, yes, it is. Not too happy about getting killed by some dumb frosty troll but hey what can ya do?

My whole family went to bed at like, 7, so it's just me and time... ooh precious precious time, alone, with nobody wanting things from me, nobody speaking to me, a blissfully silent quiet house. Oh what to do what to do...

If it were winter, or late fall, I'd be cozied up on the couch practicing old-lady habits, and cross-stitching (I don't know why, but for me, cross-stitching is a seasonal thing). If it were the dead of winter, I'd probably have a nice glass of Baileys on ice (my favorite drink before the commercials thank you) and watch some britcoms... Addicted to BBC America and many many British shows. But it's summer and I am not a summer person. If I could, I'd sleep through summer. It's just too hot. So what to do...

What would you do, with such a night, with the whole dang family in bed way before their bedtimes (hubby included) and just a quiet blissful night in front of you? How'd you spend it?

Quit, unquit, quit again

Finally made a decision.

Bye bye mom's club. It just wasn't meant to be. I don't understand the hidden rules, the unspoken protocols, the culture of the suburban moms' clubs... For this reason, I probably won't be a big hit on the PTA, but can't say I won't try!

I feel like a 12 year old that just realized she'll never actually be a part of the cool kids club. The difference is it passed really quickly once I realized I'd never probably actually see any of them again. Oh there's a few that I got on with, that I might see again, but just not enough to feel, oh, welcomed. And it may be part me. But who cares. I spent too much time stressing over it all.

Also, bye bye Bunco night. All the bunco moms are part of the club. I'd just feel uncomfortable.

Saying that, I spent all of last night playing World of Warcraft. I'm an unstoppable gnomish mage in a cold, desolate land, killing bad wolfies and trolls while I find my way in the big, cruel world.

I play these games occasionally. The highest I ever got was lvl 20-something in DAoC. It's not skill, it's my attention span. Oh and skill, actually, I kinda suck. And direction sense. I have none, so I get lost in areas where the monsters are waaay tooooo muucchhh for me. I once killed an entire party in EQ, but I didn't die, because an online friend came in time to save me. Not my group, but me, and that's what mattered. While the group that I horribly atrociously got slaughtered were shouting at me in all caps (they knew me personally, so felt free to express their emotions) my husband ran upstairs to explain how he felt about the whole incident. It's been five years, and I still remember the occasion...

But it's a good stress reliever between class projects and the kids and the writing. Ah, the writing. I've decided to restructure my days so that everything is done around the writing. It'll get easier when the kiddos are in preschool but hey. We work with what we got. I mean, it is NOT POSSIBLE to accomplish much of anything when there are children in the house, especially under 5.

Overall, last night was a complete mental break night which I needed, and I'm in a much better mood today. Now if only I could gain some territory in my war against the sentient laundry...

Wednesday, July 12, 2006

Hummer returns manhood

Yes, it does. Because I saw it on tv. Now I know Hummer is targeting urban soft metrosexuals and their overly kind, sweet and gentle housewives. How do I know this? The second ad makes it all clear...

Grocery store line.
Metro Man is putting vegetables, fresh herbs, and a big honkin' slab of 'TOFU" on the conveyer belt.
He looks at the man next to him, who has just put racks and racks and slabs of meat down.
Realizing how emasculated he's become, what does he do?
Get steak? Laugh and say his wife's addicted to Tofu and he has been eating Outback curbside take-away for months? No no no. Better.
He grabs his bags, loads the car, and drives to the dealership.
Restore your manhood.
Or was it, regain your lost manhood?
Whatever. It was something like that.

So now I get it.

The nice woman at the park, she needed a hummer, cuz she's not mean enough. She lost her 'meanness' and in the dog eat dog world of playground politics, that's a serious weakness. It's amazing she's not been beat up by now.

The metro tofu man, totally needs a hummer. He's eating healthy, omigosh, and probably has great cholesterol levels. No man has great cholesterol levels! Only womenly-men, effeminate men, new age unisex men, the metros, have great cholesterol levels. He needs a hummer to let the world know he's a man.

Except the hummer being advertised is like, Hummer Lite because of the gas mileage issue. Nobody is buying big right now.

Ah well, I suppose we could all occasionally use a hummer.

Though try finding a parking spot in the damn thing.

Tuesday, July 11, 2006

Get Your Girl On.... Huh?

Does anyone understand this ad...

It's an ad totally targeting me. I'm flattered, truly. There is a line on the playground for the slide. Two kids, if that's a line. A modestly dressed, cute long-haired brunette is telling her son, 'okay now we can go' being all encouraging, when a woman dressed a notch up with shorter hair walks up, and her son runs in front of the kid and clamors up the slide steps. Mom does nothing. Long-haired brunette, in horror at the injustice of it all, says "It was Jake's turn next" and she said "Well, now it's his turn" or something to the effect of not anymore, it's my son's turn. So she then sees an ad for a Hummer. Runs to the front of the slide, grabs her son, goes to the dealership, signs the papers real fast, buckles kiddo in, herself in, and then drives off smiling, the line says "Get your Girl On." so um. What?

She meets one rude woman in the playground and buys a hummer? To do what? Go back to the park and run her over? Get in touch with her 'mean' side? Methinks someone's got a complex. Is Hummer now targeting stay-at-home moms with inferiority complexes (hmm, maybe they aren't targeting me)? Or are they telling the nice, just, and good stay-at-home moms to cater to their inner girl by buying a hummer, and running over mean bitch woman's hybrid? I just don't get it.

Oh for these mortal problems to cease

When is my streak of 'unluck' going to end, and preferably, not merge into 'bad luck?'

Last weekend, my lawn mower blew up. Maybe just the motor. Big smoke. I stopped mowing. McRed is going to look at it 'this week.' I told him the HOA people will be around soon, but he didn't look at it in time, and we'll get to that later.

So I quit and then unquit the mom's club. That's decisive action for you. I can't do a lot of the events, I just don't have it in me. But I'm going to try to do the playgroups for the boys. I don't think these moms really like me, but I don't know, maybe I'll grow on them.... ha ha ha.

I missed a conference with my group in one of my classes while writing a last-minute paper for another one. Doing so resulted in them coming to the conclusion I had the most powerpoint experience and nominating me for being the presenter. (I do, but I was going to try to sneak out of it, I was hoping for 'editor' since it's actually easier, and it's totally a rip-off to the person they nominated as editor, because, being an editor by trade, it's rare I make grammatical errors). *except in my blog, which I rarely edit because I don't think grammatcially, I think ramblingly.

I have to do bills tonight at each of the individual sites because I blew them off last week to do another paper for another class and they (the bills) are all due tomorrow, so I have to log on to all these sites, remember old passwords and pay them all.

So I'm running behind in every aspect of my life. The backyard isn't done at all and hasn't been touched because I'm boycotting it until I get some 'real' time to do it, or until fall when everything dies to the ground again.

And this is today:

Bright idea, lets go to Storytime at the library, get the kiddos out...
Actuality, Storytime at the library isn't sitting in the kids section looking for and browsing through Thomas books, sooo lets have a huge fit of "NO NO NO this door mommy this way mommy home Mommy truck home" and finally when I try to calm him down by leaving the storytime room
"Honey, storytime"
"No no no. thomas"
I think, right, lets pop over, grab a Thomas book, and go back to storytime.
Oh there are NO Thomas books (because we have them all checked out already) so get a truck book and a boat book for the son that is ACTUALLY enjoying storytime with his sister.
Back in storytime for a minute before...previously behaving toddler wants the truck book vs. the boat book and finally... we have to leave. A ROOMFUL of preschoolers and toddlers, and I have to leave because King Turbo wasn't pleased at all with my choice of activity for him. It's this thing with him and structure. Any 'circle time' or structured 'group' activity is met with great resistance. Boy, school is gonna be a blast....
We finally get outside the library where we have tantrum II because I refuse to pick up my fussing, incredibly not well-mannered Turbo. I sit on a bench while Drama and Bear stand, for five minutes, before Turbo finally 'gets' that no matter how red his face is, how loud his voice is, how many times he runs in circles, how many crying tearful pleas he shoots at me, I am not picking him up.
"Mommy, hold hands..." and off we go.
To the grocery store. That went incredibly well considering that my main tactic there was to ignore the sounds coming from the cart. It was hard since this is what I didn't hear... "Mammmmaaa where aaarree uuuuuu?" ummm. RIGHT HERE YOU CAN SEE ME... argh... a stranger passing by in the aisle thought it was cute (men always do, especially the older ones, they don't get the kids are being rotten tomatoes) and told me I wasn't, that I was actually hiding and no, he couldn't see me.
I did refuse to let them go to playland and color, which they asked for, because Turbo was still being too tempermental. This would be the very first time that I was so frustrated and upset with their behavior, that I didn't let them go to playland, buy them any treats or junkfood, or suggest in a merry voice that we get 'french fries and burgers' from the Big M. I did healthy shopping because they were so miserably misbehaving. My daughter for once didn't ask for a thing, didn't peep a complaint, and only toward the end hinted something about pineapples, to which I said no (only because they were whole, and I don't have a special pineapple cutting knife or skills) and we left. I mean, my daughter. didn't. ask. for. one. thing. Miraculous. I did give her points for that.
So we go home, and I start them lunch. They never get to lunch. They behaved just like they did all morning long and I promptly dropped them into their beds for a long nap figuring they'd wake up in a better mood. HA HA HA And to make it worse, my pleas to Nanny McPhee went unanswered.
So I'm beat. The house destroyed, and an HOA inspector comes up the stairs and knocks. I ignore him. STUPID STUPID STUPID. He was probably going to do something like tell me to mow my lawn before he makes my rounds or something. I thought he was a salesman. Anyhow, he made notes in his little 'write up the idiots who blew up their mower' book. I mean, it's not like I COULD mow my lawn if he told me to, but I could plea my cause with a "my mower blew up, promise it'll get fixed..."

My yard doesn't represent me or my philosophy on yards. It does represent my life, however. No matter how many good intentions goes into the yard, half of it still dies. Weeds still sprout. Wild mushrooms still grow. And bloody nothing ever blooms.

Moving on to the afternoon.
Drama had a free trial gym class today. I have to reschedule. I COULDN'T find the bloody building. I drove by all these buildings looking for numbers, but the problem is, it's a section of nothing but business complexes who hide their building numbers, and gym starz is in the back. I spent 35 minutes searching... never found it. Drama is pouting. Had to give her a strawberry fruit pop to get her to stop sulking. Left a message on their phone, and will reschedule for Thursday hopefully. Sigh.

On the way home, SISTER calls, yes she is now SISTER in capitals. Only because it sounds menacing that way. She informed me that we have an incredibly rare form of lipitodey thingamajigs that hang out on white blood cells like only 10 percent of the world's population, all ethnicities being included, have it. She broke it down by race. The only real reason I need to know this is because if I need bone marrow or an organ, she's pretty much it. How cheerful!

Go to starbucks because I SOOO deserve a grande vanilla latte.

Come home to HOA inspector writing in his little book that my lawn is too high, my tree ungroomed, my flowers in containers dead and my weeds are flowering. At least half the lawn is alright.

I shoulda bought some wine.

Friday, July 07, 2006

How Aliens Will Conquer Us All

If aliens were going to invade our planet, they wouldn't land on the planet in their space suits and little guns. They'd enter orbit, circle the earth, and drop bombs, creating mass confusion, panic and chaos, allowing them to infiltrate and conquer us.

This is what I learned on Sci-Fi's Countdown to Doomsday.

That and we're killing our environment and collapsing our eco-systems, which we know already.
We just like to pretend it doesn't matter.

Oh, and solar flares can doom us, doom us all...

It's this or What Not To Wear...

Ode to a Dog

I remember the stuffed monster I bought you,
and how you wouldn't let anyone take it away.
I was flattered I found you the most favored gift.

I remember when you herded my brother's friends.
Unruly lot they were. Wouldn't stay in flock-like formation.
It's hard being a herd dog with nothing to herd.

You and my brother competed for dominance.
That was always funny. Til you pooped in his bed.
He didn't think that was funny.

You chased my daughter when she was a toddler.
Nipping at that diaper, faster faster. She thought you were mean.
I had to agree.

But you loved everyone, and you loved to play.
You thought you were something, some dog king. I mean, your own chair?
Really, you were just spoiled.

So 15 years you had.
My mother loved you most of all. You were her dog.
And now you're gone.

I wonder, are you where Jessie is?
If you are, is she finally catching birds?
Did she get over her fear of water?

Are you with Holmes, my puppy.
Never got to be a dog.
Is he finally able to play with children?

I know you just got there, but did you see Milo?
He barely lived. It was so cruel.
Maybe he could show you around.

Or our Scruffmeister, are you just in some Scotland-like field?
Running and herding sheep.
Chasing and nipping with tail-wagging glee?

I suppose it'll take you time to know your way around.
It's a great big place, I imagine, where all that once lived now roam.
Free of all the pain, but I bet you'll miss the pets.

We hate to see you go.
We know you just couldn't stay, though you tried your best to hang on.
You always were that stubborn.

Bye Scruffy.
You'll be missed.
Don't let it get to your head.

Thursday, July 06, 2006

What My Children are Reading

The mind of a nine and a half year old is a very scary place. Suddenly, like literally suddenly, she wants to read. June started her huge reading frenzy with Beck and the Great Berry Battle by Laura Driscoll.

Here is what my daughter is reading this month:

Sailor Moon, the Power of Friendship by who cares there's a whole series of them. (Finished)

Lily's Pesky Plant by Laura Driscoll. This is a series of fairy books by this author.

Little House on the Prairie by Laura Inglalls Wilder. (this one she reads out loud to me daily during the weekday)

Toddlers are fanatic about their books. Here's what the boys are reading this month:

The Grouchy Ladybug, this is the best, their personal favorite right now.

Where the Wild Things Are, by Maurice Sendak

Brown Bear, Brown Bear What Do You See, by Eric Carlse.

Stop, Train, Stop, by Rev. W. Awdry

Thomas and the Castle, by Rev. W. Awdry

Thomas the Really Useful Engine, by Rev. W. Awdry

Whatever Next Bear, a book I picked up in Britain for Drama ages ago.

Monday, July 03, 2006

The New Me

Okay, not really. The more motivated me, perhaps. The more, 'me with sort of an idea of what I want' me, okay okay more like a "So I get up one Monday morning, do my 6 a.m. workout and then actually go for a run so I must be in a transformational phase, not unlike the legendary phoenix which out of the ashes of suburbuan mundanity rises to new, exciting, poetic and literatary heights" me.

I mean, that's not an unrealistic assumption is it?

So I am glad I got my sorry butt out of bed at waay too early in the morning and went to the gym, and then, after my tall cafe vanilla late (yes yes Starbucks, I know, we are only human after all, but it WAS a tall, with 2 percent milk thank you) came home and realized I could run. The children were all asleep, husband included. On Wednesday, however, I will make sure I bring my Ipod, and have 30 minutes of music, because what I thought was a nice 30 minute run was, heh, a 15 minute run. Ooops. But I had enough cardio for today between the 4 minute warm up at the gym and the crazy leg workout that about killed me was more cardio than anything, so I'm good.

P.S. When I say run, please understand that at this point of my 'running' there is actually a considerable amount of fast-walking involved.

P.P.S. If you want to know why I chose running, you tell me one cardio exercise that you know of that can get you better toned and use up more calories than running, and help keep your bone mass?