Shady Tree Park

A week or so ago, I posted about the Burning Stones Park. I mentioned we would be headed to Shady Tree Park.



Shady Tree Park is older, which explains why the trees are big enough to provide shade. Nothing like a New England canopy, or the tall ever-aspiring-higher trees of the Northwest, but, tall enough and wide enough for some shade.

Since the entire point of this post is about the shady tree park, you'd think I'd have taken some pictures of the soft green grass and said shady trees. You'd think.

Anyhow, trust me, the grass is soft and green, and the trees are shady.

But the kids? The kids were still hot.
And brave. Too brave.
But at the end of the day, despite some drama, and an unfortunate bloody-nose incident Cutie suffered, it was a good shady day.

Hot Diggidy Dog

Oh dear.

It is July, and can someone please tell me, where the school supply lists are this year?

I can't seem to find mine for my daughter, and while I'm certainly in no rush to send Drama off to Middle School and introduce Turbo and Bear to pre-Kindergarten, sometimes, I like to look at the school supply lists.

It makes me happy, especially during these dog days of summer (who knew the Romans blamed the constellation Sirius for the hot, oppressive days between July and August?). And these are the dog days of summer... too hot for my liking. The sun just sort of beats down on you and every breeze is the sort that brings heat and fire and misery. Why, it's a wonder I didn't just fall down halfway through my walk with Crazy, what with all the hot winds and burning sun.

And perhaps, perhaps I exaggerate slightly, but not by much. It's dog-panting weather out there, and no rain in sight except for an overly optimistic rain cloud last Saturday night that finally dispersed.

Oh I know, I know, waah waah waah, I live in Colorado, the dog-days of summer pass as quickly as they go, but I live in the moment, and let me tell you, this moment is hot, oppressive and the reason why I will never live in the Southern Hemisphere. Unless it's like, on the beach, or in one of the micro-climates where somehow it never gets above 75.

Burning Stones Park

Here is Bear and Turbo at the Burning Stones Park, also known by its proper name, Sandstone.



It's one of the uberest parks I ever did see.


But there's one teensy eensie small problem. They did such a great job with this park, the open spaces, the huge playground contraptions, the kiddie area to die for, the big kid area, the mini-climbing wall, the rocks to run around in, why, heck, they even have a water feature.


Here's Turbo going down the closed slide that's part of the stone-theme.


The bridge to the right connects it to an ubah-playset.


But...

There are no trees.


Oh, there are trees, you can see them off in the distance. But they aren't shaded trees, and they aren't anywhere near the play area.

This means that in the summer time, the time most children are seen at parks, the kids just boil. And, more upsetting, the moms boil, too. I don't know where you are on the 'enjoy boiling' scale, but I hate the heat with a great passion that requires I live in places where summers are either short or non-existent. Now, of course, Summer here will never end, but it will get cooler... and I'm fine with that.

But with this melanoma breeding ground of a playground, I am not fine. Because as much as I love taking Turbo and Drama there, and as much as they love going there, and as much as the water feature is neat, and despite how much sunscreen I lather on their little non-burning bodies (seriously, am I the ONLY one that didn't get the nice Italian skin? wtf?) it just isn't enough. The sun beats down til sweat rains down their foreheads and their pores open up and flood their skin.

See, here is Bear and Turbo boiling in the summer sun.

Which is why, next week, rather than go to this lovely park, we are going to a tree-lined park... a nice, cool, shady place where squirrels can be seen climbing trees and occasionally, one imagines, someone gets bombed by bird poop.

There will be photos...

...of the park. I am not so lucky to catch bird-bombings.

SLACKER

Wow,

What a slacker I've been.

I can't help it. It's summertime. I have the right to be lazy.

Plus I'm addicted to the Twilight series, so that's been keeping me up.

Can we all say, wow, it's July?

And listen, summer isn't FULLY over, there's still July and August. Half of August if you're in Colorado and you have kids. But, July is a VERY LONG MONTH.

So don't fret. You still have time to languish away at parks, lakes, sandy reservoirs and coffee shops.

It's not time to be sad or panic yet. Why, heck n crap, I bet the summer weather lingers on into September!

There's STILL MANY DAYS AHEAD TO ENJOY....

And I will not mention fall or cool weather or anything until at least August. Even though it's my favorite season, and I'm having crazy Fall urges to nest and be cozy and make pies and cross stitch and buy school supplies.

I just... can't...help it.... make.... it.... stop....

It is STILL SUMMER.

Summer is Over

Oh, I can hear you now, all arguing, disagreeing, but the FOURTH is just around the corner, there's TWO WHOLE MONTHS LEFT.

Well, sorry to correct you, but no, no there aren't.

The Fourth of July marks the end of summer. Especially in Colorado, but elsewhere as well.

You mark my words. The Fourth of July will end, we will all return to our daily summer lives full of gooey potato salad, slimy slaw and greasy dripping burgers or chicken, and a nagging ringing in the ear from the fireworks, thinking summer is now FULL BLOWN WOOTXOR.

How wrong we'd be.

You see, NEXT weekend, there will be sales.
Back to school sales, to be precise.

You'll walk into Target to discover that they've set up the back-to-school bins. I love the back to school bins. I get positively giddy whenever I see them. I buy myself stuff from them, just to get into the mood. Wal-Mart will have it's aisles all done up, and then, the ads will start to come in the Sunday paper, on the television, and your kids, my kids, all kids, will shout 'TURN IT OFF' and run screaming, because... it's Back To School Time.

The first lines in the battle for Back To School Shopping will be drawn the weekend after the Fourth of July. From office supply stores to Target bins, from Microsoft to Apple, from Justice and Limited Too to Abercombie and Fitch, the lines... are drawn.

So, as a parent, you're thinking, YES, and "how, seriously HOW, can we prolong this 'back to school' feeling?"

Here are some tips.

Start shopping for your child's school wardrobe now. Just buy some things that will be a necessity, for Drama girl, it's jeans from Justice (which is now allowing you to shop online as of July 28th, for parents who despair of Tween Trash clothing, check them out, they aren't half-bad). (Note, they are owned by Tween Brands, which owns the Limited Too) Then, a couple of weeks later, buy a couple of outfits. This prevents the kids from buying an entire wardrobe spur of the moment that they'll hate in two months. Buying the stuff in a few, shorter trips guarantees they will mostly like what they buy.

Prepare your child for the school day schedule. Oh this is the fun part. Start waking them up earlier by 30-minute increments until, a week before school, they are on the school day wake/sleep routine. Think this is cruel? Well yah, but you'll thank me come that First Day of School wake up time.

Get the supplies now. If you have 'the list.' The list is the entire supply requirements for your child's grades. If you get them now, you can avoid injury and foul play at the various supply bins mid-August (which, btw, is when Colorado kids go back to school... Colorado for the Win!).

Start talking about your fall plans. This one drives the kids crazy. But, they cry, it's SUMMER. This is your opportunity to show them the calender. Yes, dears, but look, it's ALMOST school time! Save this for the third week in July, or first week in August, depending on your child's school start time. And don't get too carried away. This is how shopping for Christmas Presents in August starts, and really, there's no need for that.

Meet Jose

This is Jose.

Dodge Durango, Gas Guzzler, Carrier of Cargo, Deliverer of Children.

The boys named him Jose.

He has been a member of this family since the boys were born, oh those long four and a half years ago...

... and if you happen to know where those long four and a half years went, please let me know, I'd really like some of them back...

Anyhow.

Jose carried this family from the East Coast to the West Coast to the good ole' Colorado range. At least, I think it's a range. Or the frontier. Either way, it's Colorado and we have mountains, cattle and ranges.

Jose is currently out of favor with the country, gas prices rising and all, but we love Jose, and we'll keep Jose, as long as Jose lasts, which should be a pretty long time.

The thing about Jose though, he's always dirty. Seriously, the guy is a pig. And clutter junkie. Oh, the things he collects in his back seats, the food he munches on practically non-stop on every drive, and seriously, how long must the wet-dog scent last? It was months before we stopped smelling regurgitated goldfish. Don't even get me started on his Diet Coke and Starbuck's addiction...

The Final Five.... Pounds

I'm there.

I have talked for some time, but not here, about the Eternal Ten.... those mysterious final ten pounds that you just need to lose, but that won't budge, no matter what you do. Oh sure, the Eternal Ten mock you, maybe letting you go down three, only to up back three and a half, snickering and mocking and pointing, yes, those Eternal Ten Pounds...

Five pounds ago, I was there.

I finally realized that for the Eternal Ten to give way, I needed to eat a bit less... Coffee Heath Bar Ice Cream, I abjure you, Starbuck's Frappucino's, Cinnamon Dolce Latte's and Cinnamon Bread, mourn you. Hubby McRed's Hidden Stash of Peanut M&M's, I pretend I don't know where you are...

I also walked a bit more.

Chasing run-away toddlers also helps.

Then, the Eternal Ten gave way to the Final Five.

I hit the Final Five last night, but thought my scale was broken. I mean, after all this time, how could I have finally lost those 1.6 pounds that would end the stale-mate between me and weight loss? The scale has registered at the same weight for so long, surely, it's just that the battery died...

So I checked it with the gym scale while dropping my son off for his swim class (You didn't think I went to, like, work out, did you?) and it turns out it's not broken.

Welcome to Lahdeeda's Final Five -- the Personal Struggle To Not Eat Coffee Heath Bar Ice Cream.

I'm now determined to hit my target weight by fall... those Final Five will give way in the next two months or else.

I'm so giddy, I could munch on a celery stick.

I've got a runner

Note: Season is a new cast member, and is a neighbor named after a season. Real vague, I know...Sweetie is a cute blonde pre-schooler that rules the neighborhood with blue eyes and a mischievous smile.

"Poor Season," I'd say to Hubby McRed.
"She's always off chasing that running toddler of hers," and I'd point out the window to the blur that was Season, off chasing her running toddler down the sidewalk past our window.
I'd shake my head. Oh, poor thing, I'd think. But, well, he does keep her in shape. (She's quite the little hottie, and I say that with lots of green envy).
"Tsk Tsk. He can even open the doors now. That's how he does it. She'll need to get higher locks."

And then I'd go back to watching The Deadliest Catch, tsking tsking about runaway children.

Then Turbo got his rocket pack.

One day, when I said 'come on, it's time to go home' he fired it up and took off. It'd been awhile since I used my rocket pack, and for some reason, Bear took off too. I chased Turbo, since he's the one with the rocket pack. He went around the corner and out of our little 'hood, to the neighborhood street and was about to fire off a booster into the overgrown weed field that leads to the bus depot and the street. A nice little ten year old asked if I needed help catching the rocket boy. I said no, booked it in flip flops, quite a feat alone, you should try it sometime, and caught him.

Then I back-tracked to Bear, found him hiding in bushes, pulled him out, spanked both their booties (Spare me the no-spanking rule, lines MUST be drawn) and walked two crying preschoolers back home.

I thought it was over. We had a talk. There was a spanking, but no.

Second time we're outside, Turbo chased a bunny with Bear and Sweetie. Bear came back, Turbo and Sweetie wandered down the sidewalk. I YELLED at Sweeite and Turbo to stop. This was more to alert Sweetie's parents that I found them and they were WAY beyond the boundary. But then I had a dilemma. Sure, Sweetie stopped, but Turbo, he fired up his rockets....

I caught up to Sweetie, what to do what to do, well, I'm certainly not going to leave a pre-schooler alone on the side-walk, so I said 'You're coming with me, honey' picked her up and took off after Turbo, who DID listen to me when I said "NO THAT"S A ROAD" and instead went around the block, to be intercepted by Sweetie's Dad.

There was speaking, spanking and tears.

And today, new boundaries for the Turbo.

I've confiscated his rocket pack.

As for Season? Well, she was last seen booking it around the corner of our house after dark...

Meet Drama Girl

Here is Drama Girl....


She doesn't look like a pre-tween there does she? Trust me, we're in full tweendom mode. And I know you can't see her face, but truthfully, this photo contains the essence of Drama Girl. She is in a place that none of us want to return to, if we're honest, or our memories are intact. There is just so much...Drama.

Next year she hits the middle school years. She'll be mixed in with the angsty seventh and eight graders, but there's no real way to solve the sixth grade conundrum, not really. You just have to go through it, and she will, with angst, drama, Emotion. Send help.

See that smile though? See it?
Remember it, because over the course of the next three years, it's going to disappear into that "i'm more bored than death" expression.

And if you want to know how I really feel about my daughter, here you go.

Meet Bear

Meet............ Bear


Twin to Turbo, Identical, though they, in these pictures, with their personalities fully taking up the camera, don't look it.

Bear is sweet as pie and stubborn as a mountain. Immovable. Determined. Filled with hugs. Kisses. Cuddles. But still immovable.

He loves shaking that mane of hair, mussing it up, and playing with it in his hands. He's a darling, he's four, and those blue eyes, you see those eyes? They are going to wreak havoc with some poor girl's heart one day.

The thing with Bear, and all bears, is they are super cute, but we all know, you don't mess with a sleeping Bear. Or an angry Bear. An eating Bear. A busy Bear, a determined Bear, a Bear on the chase.... you get the idea.... you just ... don't....mess.... with....Bear.

Meet Turbo

Now that the photo-ban has been lifted, lets meet the fam dam, shall we?


Meet..... Turbo


Turbo moves even when standing still.

Turbo is a wanderer, often found at any home except his own... cavorting with the neighborhood blonde who rules the pre-school boy set with blue-eyed cuteness and little shy smiles... visiting all the neighbors, house-by-house, picking up food and drink where it's offered, nary a glance back to me, mom, wondering at which back-patio I could find my stray. One neighbor, who kindly obliged Turbo with a glass of water and some pleasant conversation, described him as a traveler. I think this is an apt description.

Turbo can be found heading off into the grove of trees where the dirt is prime-digging material and the trucks have some heavy duty work cut out. He likes to climb trees and is an avid scooterer' on the sidewalk path. He loves to chase dogs and laugh, and often, can fall down from both chasing dogs and laughing.

This is Turbo.

Turbo is unique, independent, all boy, and, if his wandering ways are any indication of his future life, only mine temporarily... the big bad world isn't big enough for him.

Meet Crazy

This is Crazy.





She doesn't go for the little itty balls.
She's a herding dog... and this, why this big blue thing is obviously an errant headless smurf sheep. Crazy is a working dog. She doesn't play fetch. She snorts at little tennis balls. But errant headless blue smurf sheep, she's on em.


Because she's got a job to do.
And by golly, she'll do it.
Even if it means she has to pick up that giant blue headless smurf sheep and drag it on home.

Because this is Crazy, and she's a cattle dog mutt mix.

'Aint she just darlin?

Happy June!

For some reason, I have been waiting until June to officially declare summer, even though it's technically not summer, that's not the point. My daughter is out of school. It's summer. If we were back East, than my summer would start end of June.

So I have just realized that I've given my daughter conflicting events this summer. She has theater in the afternoons, which ends at the same time my son's swim class starts. Okay, I can manage this. I'm clever. The library is one block away. She's 11. She can cross a road and walk down a road a bit to get to the library.

But then... her orchestra concert may be on the same night as one of her plays. Okay, no REAL need to panic here. If I'm lucky, they aren't on the same night. If they are on the same night, maybe I'm semi-lucky and they are at different times. If they are the same night, ugh, choices.... choices....

Next schedule conflict...
Drama and Turbo have one week of basketball camp for two hours. It starts the same time as Drama Girl's Cello lessons. Okay, she gets dropped off ten minutes early... I drive drive drive... pick her up and then go visit some trail with her and walk the dog and have Drama Girl mom chat's then run and pick up the boys, and then have lunch, drop her off at theater and run off to the lake with the boys....

It's only a week.

Ugh.

See?

And, can you believe, daresay I, I've only scheduled stuff for Drama Girl through mid-July? And Turbo's swim lessons end in July.

What WILL I do for that last month? All that unscheduled time? /panic!

**Note on Turbo and Bear... I haven't really scheduled them for anything this summer because this is their last summer of being free... they start preschool in the fall. I figure they should get one final last hurrah (that they won't appreciate of course) where all they do is run around and play and swim and watch cartoons... because once they hit school, summer is all about getting them out...out...out... of the house.... and also, I deserve one last summer before being eternally condemned to summer taxi driver.

MAYBE I'll sign them up for a week of lacrosse camp... just because it sounds cool ;)

Rained out!

Of course it rained, it is Memorial Day, of course. Now, I know some places have perfectly sunny Memorial Days. We do too, except when I have something planned.

I was just going to drag Hubby McRed and the boys and Drama Girl to the nice big park. We woke up to a day fit for sweatshirts, long cups of coffee and a steadfast resolve not to walk out the front door into the sky that was about to rain, followed by the sky that did rain, and then some, with sound and lighting effects... in fact, it's still raining.

You'd think I'd be bothered. Bummed. Buggered. Whatever.

I would have been.

Except I rather enjoyed sitting on the couch doing nothing, followed by...

....

A NAP!!!!

That's right, I took a NAP!

I love naps, but I never get them. I can't remember the last time I had a proper nap! I had a proper crawl-under-the-covers-in-the-afternoon nap that lasted til early evening!

A major point to this was the way I went about it. I slipped upstairs silently while Hubby McRed was 'reorganizing' his music library on the lap top and the boys were in their room doing whatever it is they do when I'm not paying attention and Drama Girl was grounded to her room until 3024 or when her room is clean, whichever comes first. I slipped upstairs, closed the door quietly, and then, slipped into the covers. Imagine. With the cloudy rain-filled sky, the afternoon cool and the day lazy, how EASY it was to fall into a proper nap where I didn't have to be concerned about falling so deeply asleep that I don't hear the boys experimenting with basic scientific principles, like gravity, and how electricity isn't a toy...

.... nope. Hubby McRed, unbeknownst to him, was in charge.

And, yes, he had to exert parental authority. I heard him as I fell softly into slumber on my soft white fluffy pillow under my soft fluffy down comforter.

He came in at some point, realizing that I was missing, and tried to rouse me:

"AHH. THERE you are. What are you doing? What, what is that... is that... are you taking a NAP?"

"No. I'm not here. I"m not taking a nap. This is not the wife and mother you are looking for... go away..."

I love my jedi mind tricks... when they work....

Memorail Day, bah humbug

What are you doing on Memorial Day.

I'm not doing anything.

Bah. It's because it's not a real holiday to me.

With Drama, Turbo and Bear, there's just no 'quick weekend getaway' to the beach.
With no job, I don't really appreciate the 'three day weekend' concept.
With school out for summer, there's no real 'holiday' aspect for Drama Girl.
With Hubby McRed off work, well, we're going to the park. The nice park, with the big tree climbing play area with slides and such, and water sprays, that I could allegedly go to EVERY DAY, but for some reason, can't be bothered (lazy moms r I).

Take today for instance. It's Saturday.

I'm dragging my kids out with me while I walk the dog for a 45-minute jaunt through the neighborhood. Drama Girl has wagon duty for when the boys crap out on me, as they will. She's not allowed to crap out on me.

This entire effort is to get the dog tired enough to pass as moderately obedient during this afternoons obedience class.

Tonight's celebratory Memorial Day Weekend Fest will involve playing with Dreamweaver.

Now I am being unfair and slightly untrue. Tonight, I'll be making those funky flower pot ice cream thingies I saw on Pioneer Woman's website because tomorrow one set of in-laws are coming over for an afternoon of playing nice. I intend to drag everyone outside, if it's nice enough, fill up the pool with water for the kids, let the dog run rampant on it's leash, and call it a festive occasion.
But we have no grill (Oven fried kebobs anyone?) no seating (blanket on the grass, quintessentially American) and our pool is the lovely spring foam type (waterside entertainment for the urbanites) and the dog will be tied to a stake (not tied to a stake as in, like, a witch tied to a stake, but tethered...).

And I guarantee, by the end of it, despite having gone nowhere and done nothing, SOMEHOW, I will manage to be exhausted (I'll have to have a lie down).

Happy Memorial Day Overrated Weekend!

Walkies

My dog is not pure Aussie Cattlehound. She's a mix. Not much of a mix, since she is mostly Aussie at heart. But I've got hopes for her. We're going to wog (jog/walk) when she's finished growing and will walk decently on a leash and pass other dogs without going nutso. I have hopes.

I also hope she'll continue getting along with the boys, but my one surprise...

Drama Girl, the original "I want a dog" voice in this house, isn't bonding well with her. I'm not sure why. I'm taking steps to fix it. For instance, Drama girl is coming with me to obedience classes. She's coming with me on the evening walks, and will have some time with the leash, and she takes her potty three times a day.

The problem is Crazy isn't much of a cuddle monkey dog. Which, frankly, is fine by me. I don't want a cuddle monkey dog. I want a walking/jogging dog that will give me a reason to continue walking/jogging. I mean, I'll exercise a dog before I exercise me, how sad is that? I want a 'hey someone's here and it's midnight' barker. I want a 'lets go explore the trailways together' pal. But not a cuddly monkey dog. She likes to lay down nearish me, maybe next to me, but only heads for the lap once in a great while. I like this.

Drama girl wants cuddle monkey dog I think. I think she isn't nearly as interested in bonding in the physical exercisey way that I am. I think she wanted something that would lay down with her and let her just cuddle, without having said cuddle monkey dog turn around and try to eat her stuffed animals.

I'm not sure if it's temporary, or if she's just not the right personality for this dog. The dog DOES enjoy her exercise and play, and Drama perhaps not so much.

The irony, being, of course, that Turbo is nuts over the dog, playing forbidden games of Tug of War (He is only four, you know) and chasing the dog around the table with the dust pan (why I don't know) and running from the dog on purpose, sticking his booty in the dog's nose so Crazy can smell it.

Bear just laughs at the dog. Helps train her. Helps Turbo trap the dog in their room for unsupervised puppy play.

Drama Girl?

Thinks of new ways to get Crazy out of her room.

Odd.

What I'm Reading

So,

Here's May's reading list.

I Capture the Castle, by Dodie Smith. This is a great, romantic book that won't bore you like Jane Eyre (apologies to Jane Eyre fans). It's romantic and sweet and fun and the narrator is just great, and the characters well, filled with character.

It's Me or the Dog, because I have a dog, and she needs me to read this book.

A Great and Terrible Beauty, by Libba Bray. It's one of those books I would have loved to have read as a teenager.

I'll have to add descriptions in later. I'm too lazy to actually go to amazon.com and post the descriptions, what does THAT say about me? Now I must go take dog for walk and then to training.

Yay, I have a degree

So I did it.

I completed all the requirements (re: passed insanely bizarre course with strange teacher more intent on consistency of spaces between sentences than actual content of paper) and will receive my graduate degree. A masters in management. PR concentration. I'm not sure how I should write that. I think if it's a PR job, I would say, Masters in PR and management, and for management, just, masters in management. No, I am not getting an MBA. Why? Because I'm sick of school.

What will I do with this degree?

No idea.

I view it as a tool. It's a tool I have in my toolbox, that while I don't need now, may be able to pull out and use later.

The point is I'm done.
Forever.

Now, I'm going to write my book.

Which, really, I probably ought to have been doing instead all along.

Tah!

To stalk, or not to stalk?

In this fangly new world web order, with its new web laws, and its rewriting social mores, comes up an intriguing question:

To stalk, or not to stalk?

I'm not talking ex boyfriends and girlfriends. Duh, of COURSE we stalk them, I mean, it's better than having to fork out mucho buckos to the high school reunion just to find out if that scumbag you dated turned out to be gay after all, or married some sweet-as-pie hometown girl, or hides in his basement with assault rifles. Much safer, too.

I'm talking.... the friends. The friends you liked, had fun with, and through due course of life events, left behind, and often wonder about, but not in the way that would require any real effort.

So you get an e-mail from a long lost friend who isn't all that long lost since said friend has your actual e-mail and didn't stalk you on classmates or myspace or facebook or linked in or wahtnot, and said friend is asking about other long lost friend, and out of sheer boredom, you spend some time web-stalking (all of five minutes, I mean people, it's not that hard). So, you find this other long-lost friend. But you don't have the original e-mail. The e-mail that validates your friendship, your 'close enough to e-mail me'ness. But, you've narrowed said friend down to some cryptic screen name on MySpace and on some World of Warcraft Post.

You want to say hi.
But it seems......
wrong.

'Hello Long Lost Friend. I've found you....."
AHHHHHH

I mean, what if Long Lost Friend is INTENTIONALLY lost?

Ah, what webs we weave when we practice to...weave webs... and such...

to e-mail out of blue, or not to e-mail out of blue?
to stalk, or not to stalk?

The Alone Shopping Trip

This is not a hugely exciting thing for most people.

And I warn you, if you are male, stop reading now.

Unless you're obsessed with shopping.

Moving on... most people can occasionally go shopping alone.

Wait, if you're not really interested in a riveting discussion about clothing purchases, leave. Seriously.

Shopping alone -- for clothes, I mean. We're not talking slipping out of the house at 7 a.m. to grocery shop without distraction. A key ploy if you're trying to only buy what's on your list.

No, we're talking about shopping.... at one of the modern takes on the old classics, outdoor malls. Remember, indoor malls replaced main street shops. Now, apparently, we all miss cavorting in the weather at outdoor main street shops, so we've developed outdoor shopping malls that resemble main streets, only without the real 'street' part, now they are more like cobble-stoned pedestrian zones... so not the point.

I do prefer them, though, I enjoy fresh air, and when the weather is crappy, those coffee shops and outdoor fire places come in handy.

I had three hours to go shopping. See, here's the thing. I lost all that weight over the last summer, and fall and now, I have no summer clothes. Not one pair of shorts. Hardly any t-shirts. No capris. No skirts.

It was bliss. I actually.... tried things on. I felt like I was in my own private version of What Not To Wear. I carried a coffee around. I was uninhibited by cranky four year olds and a 'why can't I get stuff too' tween.

Oh, and while trying things on, I noticed something shocking.

I went down another size.

Yah. Who woulda thunk!

Now. Clothes. I'm petite. Not, 'petite and can float away like a feather' more like 'petite in a short squat way' and yes, while I've only got the eternal ten pounds to lose, something in my genetic make-up prevents me from being lithe and petite, making it not only possible, but understandable, when I am confused with either a hobbit or a dwarf, or a miniature troll.

But a cute one.

And considering how my sons eat, it may be hobbit.
But then if you watch me run, troll.
But my daughter has a temper of a dwarf.
Hmm.

Anyhoo.

I've gone and been all angsty about Target before. They just don't make clothes for short hobbitty people. Their tops are too skinny to fit around dwarven boobs. Their pants and shorts are not made for bubbly troll butts. Don't even get me started on the shoes and hobbit feet.

I DID find a pair of shorts that are a bit tight but wearable, and two cute tops by accident, and some adorable hats. BUT for the most part, I can't 'shop' there. I don't do Wal-Mart. For the same reasons as Target, AND the clothes there fall apart on me after two washings. I did all my husband's shopping at Target.

So where do I go? J.C. Penney's clothes have become real crap, in the petite's section anyhow. I don't know WHO is picking out their petite lines, but it might just be my great Polish grandmother Olga. (This is not a Polish joke, it so happens some ancestors of mine were Polish, possibly more so than they ever admitted).

Macy's is too intimidating. I can't stand walking into a store and being so overwhelmed with so much clothing, walking by adorable things, hideous things, 'career' things, 'athletic' things and then have to find the one little corner of clothes that fit me. (Sad, I know.)

So I DO know if I had a job, I"d probably go to Talbot's petites. My sister does and she says it's a nifty place with secret treasures for shorties.

But I don't.

I need park clothes.
Backyard clothes (despite not having a back yard).
Walking clothes.
Casual not frumpy clothes.
Clothes meant for a thirty-something nearer the forty-something end of the spectrum.
Jogging pants with PINK slapped on the butt are not going to cut it. (I don't own any, btw)

I wanted to be trendy. But J. Crew is too cute, and I just never could get into cardigans and argyles the way my too trendy/cute sister does. I mean, argyle? Ugh. Drown me in some Prepsville why don't you. Plaid hasn't been in and wearable since the 80's. I can't get away with grunge flannels, because we're not in Washington anymore.

So yes.

I have three staples, and they are dull, the stores are filled with predictable clothing. They aren't too big. All their lines use the same colors so they are easier to match (trust me, this is key. I have the fashion sense of a troll). They all have petite clothing. They all last years, rather than months.

But they are pricey.

This is why my wardrobe is smaller than my husbands wardrobe.
I couldn't justify spending as much as I wanted.

But, for the first time ever, I shopped SMART. I actually tried on everything, and only bought clothing that I would actually WEAR.

So my take?

Clothing that will last me all summer, next summer and the summer after.

What I could not do?
I could not spend $175 (HOLY CATS BATMAN) on a pair of flip flops. I went to the walking store, and after the man told me these shoes would last like, a decade, I realized I had a pair of shoes from the store from two years ago, and by my count, they have at least 8 more years to go. So maybe in 8 years I'll buy a pair of $175 flip flops.

I did go to the Famous Footwear store to get Hubby McRed some shoes. He's worn through all of his.

So I went to J. Jill, and bought the uberest cute walking shorts. Like wow. They touch the knee, which is perfect, because my main complaint about shorts is how they show thigh. I mean, if you have a great thigh, go for it. Me? Not so much. I then bought two shirts that go with the shorts and other stuff I own. Yes, I bought clothes that go with existing clothes... wow. I wanted a pair of $70 linen pants, they were so cool, but they were $30 too much for pants I almost but not quite loved, though they totally spoke to the frumpy lazy bones inside of me. If they go on sale, they are so mine.

But first I went to Eddie Bauer.
I bought a performance skirt with little slits in the back for movement. It's sooo much cuter than shorts. I don't hate shorts, I"m just very picky about shorts. This is a total casual wear to park, to shopping to anywhere skirt. Then I bought a shirt that matched said skirt. And a short sleeve hoodie so adorable and comfortable I didn't want to take it off. I also bought matching shorts. The shorts are very compatible to all the shirts I own, so score. I avoided the capris, because as a short person, they tend to make me look shorter. I DID find the RIGHT pair of capris, but they didn't have my size. Bugger all that. I bought flip flops in a cute butter scotch that I barely justified, and a cute summer dress that More Gravy found for me online. I tried it on. So cute.

And that's it. Like, I know some of you are in two camps: Of COURSE you shop at those stores, duh, the clothes are better quality and last longer. And the OMIGOSH those shops are so overpriced I go to Marshalls and Target and other places and have NO PROBLEM. I justify it by shopping these places, buying less, and feeling mildly bad about it until I realize these clothes actually look good on me.


Wow.

Go me.

This is the most boringest post ever!

What do you expect when my life is like, seriously, ONLY this exciting?

Summer List -- Things I will do this summer.

A List of Things to Do this Summer

This summer's To Do List: Keeping it short and simple, cuz it's SUMMER people.
What is YOUR summer to do list?

1. Read insanely long classics.
2. Learn how to do a website.
3. Learn how to use new fangled camera which allegedly will be my graduation present.
4. Get Bear to go in water.
5. Get Turbo to go underwater.
6. Learn to swim, take three.
6. Help Drama learn multiplication table by heart (she's like, going to middle school... ack)
7. Lose Ten Pounds.
8. Overcome fear of grilling.
9. Paint two bedrooms, a bathroom and a kitchen.
10. Raise beautiful container tomatoes, peppers and strawberries.
11. Explore the green way walking trails (some of us have 'walking down walking trail' issues)
12. Find cooler music to listen to.
13. Give up Diet Coke, take 323.
14. Figure out how to program cell phone.
15. Keep house clean enough to enjoy summer.

Things I will NOT do this summer:

1. Kill basil plant.
2. Give up on Crazy.
3. Gain 10 pounds.
4. Let Kooky, the loony neighbor, get on my nerves.
5. Drink more than one frappacino a week. (We all have issues).

So that's it.

My Wednesday What I'll Do This Summer list, for people who like lists.
In the fall, we'll repost to this post, and see what I did, or did not do.

Tah! I have non-school things to do!

Things to do

I have things to do today,.

And no one to chatter to about it.
So here it is...

Followed by a LIST for More Gravy, who is addicted to lists.

Errands, if you will.

Post office, to sell back the last school text books I will ever ever in my life ever need to buy for myself -- While at said post office will mail 'hard copy' binder of last project to last instructor I will ever have to deal with in my life, (for school) thereby officially ending the last bit of school work I'll ever have to do for the rest of my life. This is the final bit before the official 'graduating' bit.

Great Clips, because buddies need hair cuts.

Bank, to deposit the IRS refund check that accidentally didn't get directly deposited due to a minor error oopsie daisy me.

Grocery, because I ran out of half and half for coffee and paper towels for picking up dog poop in the house, thank you Crazy, thank you very much.

Library, because I really need new books to read, to replace the other ten library books I didn't read.

Pet store, because someone is out of canned food.

Target, because Hubby McRed needs new shirts, and he, unlike me, can wear Target clothing.

Breakin' Out

I have a plan.
I'm gonna break out.
Somehow.
I don't actually have a plan yet.

I'm just gonna find a way to break out.

And no, I don't mean with pimples, or some strange skin affliction caused by an excessive amount of orange juice and pistachios, but I think that was really just hives brought on by nerves but never mind that.

No, I mean, I'm gonna break out of this here mundane, uninteresting life.

I'm going to lead an interesting life... one that doesn't involve little boys missing the toilet with their poop and then falling off said toilet into the puppy pee no one told me about, screaming for help while said puppy ate said poop... not that sort of interesting life. I've had enough of that interesting life.

Certainly not one that involves Drama Girl exhorting her will at the lab and refusing to get her blood drawn while screaming, that's not the sort of interesting I mean.

Nor do I mean interesting tales of being the mom of Pee Wee Drop Outs. Or being the mom of a water-phobic Bear who thinks pools are giant tubs for monsters, not that sort of interesting, either.

And I don't mean interesting in the way that my psychotic kook of a neighbor calls me up on Day One of my owning said poop-eating puppy to bemoan the loss of civilization as we know it because Lahdeeda got a puppy and OBVIOUSLY isn't the sort of woman who'd take care of it, and could I take Cujo the Killer Rabid 30 LB PuP Who Strikes Fear in the Hearts of Anthills Everywhere out the front door (no). That sort of interesting I'm done with.

I also don't mean the sort of interesting where Hubby McRed announces that he is going on a business trip, in three days, and will be gone the weekend that both of my papers need to be written so I can graduate. That's not interesting, that's just a special form of hell invented just for me.

I mean the sort of interesting that makes people want to read about my interesting life without having the same effect as they would watching a train wreck. You don't want to watch, you can't help yourself, but boy are you glad you're not on that train!

The sort of interesting life that involves making strawberry jam and taking cute little pictures of it with cute little blond haired toddlers and I don't care if you used a little powder gel pack and it was easy peezy Ms. More Gravy, it was quintessentially quaint.

I love alliteration.

I mean the interesting sort of life that is filled with little interesting happy little facts.
Say, maybe this summer for instance, Bear will go in the water. That would be interesting, and photographic. I could photograph things. I could photograph quintessentially quaint little moments. It could be a new hobby.

The sort of interesting where I announce on my blog that yes, I again am writing another novel and it's just CRANKING away. (The first novel is done, is a kid's novel, and I don't know if I'm going to edit it, seeing as it's the first one I've done and needs a lot of work, but I'm not making that decision yet.)

Which if I think about it, really is only interesting to me, since writing itself isn't really interesting, until it's done.

Okay, an interesting sort of life where I actually go on vacation somewhere. (Not this summer).

The interesting sort of life where my tomatoes actually grow and can be used. Once I buy said tomatoes, of course. And peppers. In this OTHER interesting life I'd successfully grow peppers and tomatoes in my containers on the back successfully (we don't have a yard, which is nice, because I CERTAINLY don't want the sort of interesting lawn stories yard's entail, which I did in our previous home).

The interesting sort of life where when I take my dog out, she doesn't howl like a rabid manic looney bin at every other dog, cat, creature, that walks.

The interesting sort of life where I go out to lunch with my book club and I'm not so giddy at the prospect of adult conversation that I actually speak coherently.

The interesting sort of life where there's actually a good reason to get to plucking my eyebrows (I hear thick is in this season...)

The interesting sort of life where I have this hobby that positively makes me giddy. Like writing, but that doesn't involve being inside. An outside hobby. Maybe hiking. I'll go hiking with the kids. And the dog. The dog can fend off vicious ants while the rest of us all run away from bears. Maybe I can take up fishing...

The interesting sort of life where my sons have suddenly lost all capability to whine.

The interesting sort of life where I am okay with not knowing who the final Cylon is. (Gaeta, Zarek? Me? Who? aaahhh....)

And where I have other things to do besides wish Dr. Who would pick me as his next traveling companion.

Which really tells you how inherently UN-interesting I am.


Okay...

so what I really seem to want, is quite a boring life....

Hi, from the Dog

Hi,

My name is Crazy. I'm a dog. I'm an aussie-cattlehound-mutt-mix that drives my new mom absolutely freakin crazy, so that's her nickname for me on the blog. She won't use my real name, because I told her not to.

I live for it.

I'm writing this blog for her because she's super angsty right now. Something about two last papers that she just is dying over and the other girl here, the one she calls Drama, is doing a project on Giant Pandas that she knew about for a month that's due tomorrow that she started tonight...

Drama loves me, but those others, Turbo and Bear, they don't seem to enjoy being chased much, don't know why, and why do they have to be so grumpy, I'm just trying to give them good morning hugs, they are my faves because they have so many tasty crumbs around them!

Mom is really mad at me because I pooped in front of her door and at six months, I should really be over it. I did stand there, for like EVER, how is it my fault she didn't see me? And how is it my fault that she JUST took me out and I didn't do anything? There was the scent of bird on the wind, I got distracted!

So just saying hi. She'll be back soon, she just needs to get through the weekend mainly, and next Monday and Tuesday and she'll be done.

Where have I been?

Nowhere.

Just trying to get through one more week of a major pain in the ass class.... and two final papers....

Stay tuned for news of... gasp... the DOG.....

in the mean time, since I'm so sketchy, check out More Gravy, she's been updating her blog regularly, with PICTURES! and is becoming quite the blogging pro.

In the meantime.... WISH ME LUCK!

Paper paper on the wall

That made no sense.
But it doesn't have to.

My friend at More Gravy sent me a clever link to webs created by spiders on different substances. Note the one on caffeine.

That is mine.

Apparently, I can do great outlines, but details, due to the amount of caffeine I imbibe, are out of the question.

This may explain the problems I'm having with my paper, so I may dutifully inform my professor that I am incapable of providing more detail due to my caffeine affliction.

I say affliction, rather than addiction, because I'm not addicted to caffeine, merely afflicted by the absolute need for caffeine based on my present circumstance: the last month of school forever if I can manage to not blow this last class.

Why, you wonder, have I chosen to educate my loyal following of more than five but less than 20, on the performance of drugged spiders?

Why, because I'm Precrastinating!

Although, 20 out of 25 pages of this paper are now done, so there has been SOME work going on. The sad truth about procrastinators and precrastinators both is that, yes, at the end of the crastination phase, one must actually get the work done....

Duck, Mannequin

Taking four year old boys to a shop designed for 12 year old tweens is never truly a good idea, but like other moms who can't afford nanny's, or babysitters, I had no choice.

I promised Drama girl ONE outfit from Justice, this outrageously overpriced store stocked full with tween dream clothes, knick knacks, trinkets et al, all with cutely dressed tween mannequins.

I did a decent job of pretending to be able to control my sons, admonishing them when they were about to do something particularly destructive, but for the most part, I just wanted Drama Girl to HURRY UP.

I had both of the boys right BEHIND me, and they were behaving well enough that I turned to Drama girl to look at an outfit she picked out.

I'd turned my back on them for about 20 nanoseconds, not surely a full second, when I hear a soft, 'aahh' and then, a louder ahhh which was about to turn into a full fledged cry. I turn around and see...

....


My son's head stuck between the legs of a tween mannequin that he had managed to topple over onto himself in 20 nano seconds. His fingers were UNDER the mannequin thing.

So there he was.
My son.
Head stuck between the legs of a tween mannequin wearing skorts and a cute sleeveless matching top, hand stuck under it.

The arm fell off, of course.

So I pull the stupid mannequin off his big head.
Mind you, I wasn't too careful about it. I figured if his head was REALLY stuck it wouldn't matter if I yanked it up over his head, it wouldn't budge. But his head wasn't FULLY stuck, it was just too heavy, and a tight fit, so I jiggled it over him and then realized his fingers were stuck under the board the mannequin stood on.

I took if off and picked up my sobbing, crying, very naughty four year old Bear.

I checked his fingers, only scratched, no bleeding or crushed bones.

We sat in an obnoxiously bright pink tween chair while Drama Girl tried on her outfits, and we talked about how it wasn't such a good idea, this sticking your head between mannequin legs.

It's a measure of my mommyhood style that my first response was "So, what did we learn about playing with mannequins?"

And yes, he was fine five minutes later, albeit very clingy, and suddenly overcome with panic at the thought that he'd be on the moon all alone and not be able to find his house...
...

ALL I said was, maybe he could wait on the moon while we shopped, that's all....

How to Do a Will

This is what I need to know.

I have found out that for the state of Colorado, with my main goal of a will being to name a guardian that all I need is the right forms, and I can do it myself.

But which forms?

Do I just get Quicken's willmaker?

Do I order the brochure of will making from the site the Colorado Bar Association recommends?

And, what happens, in the strange circumstance that I get hit by a meteor, but not beloved Hubby McRed, but then, in a bizarre twist of cosmic humor, two years later, he gets hit by a meteor, but he didn't bother doing a will, do the children go to the guardian I appointed, or, is my will void and they go somewhere else the court appoints wily nily? Not that courts appoint things wily nily, never.

Anyone?
Anyone?


I intend to either spend the $100 to 'make a will' at the local community center or to use software, but, I just need aaahhh.... suggestions.

anyone?

No Grabby Grabby

I was working on my paper from hell for the instructor from hell. To accomplish this, I set the boys, Turbo and Bear, on their own in the house. Everything was pretty much as calm as you could expect in this scenario.

But then it was dinner time. Hubby McRed came home. Drama Girl wanted attention. And Bear, who had a nice, calm afternoon nap, was revved. OUT of the kitchen they go. NO running in the house. JUST GO UPSTAIRS AND PLAY.

So they did.

Only for Turbo to come running down the stairs, somewhere between hysterical laughter and hysterical panic.

"Mommy Mommy!" he cried. "Bear is Trying To Get My Penis."

I pause.

And look. Turbo had barreled down the stairs behind me, for protection, apparently.
Down the stairs fast as can be, arm outstretched, hand making crab-like grabby maneuvers... is Bear.

Laughing hysterically and saying "I'm going to grab your penis..." Pause for his laughter, he thinks he's funny, "I"m going to grab your penis..."

We have a talk about how this sort of game is not okay, I don't CARE if you think it's funny, we do not grab other people's penis'.

But apparently, this is a GREAT game.

Because shortly after, Bear comes running down the stairs, "Turbo's gonna get my penis..."

And then Lahdeeda, yours truly, got fed up, and shouted,

"THIS IS A RULE. We DO NOT grab OTHER PEOPLE"S PENIS' IN THIS HOUSE."

I mean, yes, I had to make a rule....


Actual, cute, non-penis comment of the night (I don't recall the last time I had a day that didn't contain some penis reference from my preschoolers):

"Bear, I'm going to get you a t-shirt, I don't want you sleeping in your belly tonight."
"Okay, mom, and I need t-pants, too..."

awwwww

Precrastination

The process whereupon one decides to do a task earlier than necessary, and then, at the early time they have alloted to said task, then postpones accomplishing the task.

It's the first step toward procrastination.

So Very Naughty

I went to the bookstore.

It was naughty of me.

I am not allowed in bookstores. I can't ever be good in them.
I go to the library, and stuff tote bags full of books that pique my interest, and return them three weeks late, but only pay $5.

Libraries are made for people like me, and elderly folk.

I have trouble in the bookstore.

But I think today I did pretty good. I picked up six books, but only left with three, one a biography on Ann Boleyn just cuz I get into phases, a book of essays by Ray Bradbury on writing, and a book by Janet Evanovich because she writes in a style I like, and I want to try to mimic, even though I can't spell her name, and I don't want to write mystery.

Total? $60

I was so very naughty.

THEN I went to the Office Depot.

This is just as hazardous for writers-to-be. LOTS of organizers, papers, boxes, writing THINGS....

I behaved. I only picked up ten pieces of poster paper to do a timeline on, and some sticky notes.

So very good, after being so very naughty.

hee

Pee Wee, Oh My

First day of Pee Wee soccer practice... occurred.
Lets just say it happened.

Bear sat down and refused to play. That was all there was to it for him.

Turbo intermittently got in line to kick the ball, than decided he didn't like the rule about not touching it and picked it up and left, and then, decided to go fly off and be a bird.

Of course all the OTHER children stayed with the group, got in line and took turns kicking the ball. None of the OTHER kids needed to be corralled.

This happens to me all the time.

It's like, my kids are off in their own world, masters of their own universe, and they don't want to do anything they don't want to do.

But it's just SOCCER! Is it too much to ask to let mommy have ONE thing that doesn't make mommy put her face in her hands or end in, "Oh Dear." "Oh My." "Maybe Golf?"

Surviving tweendom

I'm pretty sure there's no way I"m going to survive Tweendom.

I can not STAND my 11 year old Drama-Girl's mood swings for absolutely no reason...

"Before you go out, you have to pick up your clothes, make your bed and clean up the trash on the floor"

"I"LL NEVER GET DONE I CAN"T EVER HAVE A BREAK I'LL BE STUCK HERE FOREVER AAHAHHH YOU'RE EVIL MOM"

Oh, well, in that case, continue living in the pig sty. Really. I misunderstood.

Do your homework.

HOMEWORK IS STUPID IT MAKES NO SENSE I DON'T WANT TO DO IT IT SUCKS I'M GOING TO STAY IN MY ROOM AND YELL AND SCREAM BUT LEAVE ME ALONE I DONT' CARE IF I'M DISTURBING YOUR ATTEMPT TO HAVE A CUP OF COFFEE I HATE MY LIFE AND I DON'T WANT TO DO HOMEWORK AND YOU HAVE TO LISTEN TO ME SCREAM AND THROW THINGS.

Come down and talk to me, we need to have a conversatoin (On account of all the yelling).

NO I'M NOT LEAVE ME ALONE I'M IN A BAD MOOD....

Then pack your bags, because I've changed your room, it's currently on the moon. Call me when you get there.

To the Anonymous HR Folks

Dear Anonymous Corporate HR Drones,

Are you REALLY right now, at this moment, reviewing my experience and qualifications to find if they match the position you are seeking to fill? Am I to believe that the MOMENT that message arrived in my in-box, that you had, with great excitement, pulled my submission out of your in-box, to immediately review my qualifications and experience?

And what are the odds, the chances, really, that even if I DO pleasantly surprise you with my experience and qualifications, that you will contact me in a reasonably reasonable time? Truly?

I'm just wondering, is all....

Three Pages

I have a rule about writing.

Three pages, a minimum, every day. I give myself one day off to not do it. But every other day, three pages, this includes weekends, and the kicker, they HAVE to be 'relevant' pages, to the story I'm writing.

So, I'm 12 chapters in. I reckon (Yes, I said I Reckon) I have five or six more chapters to go to 'finish' the story, of course, there are five or six chapters I'll be adding in when I do the rewrite (I so can not believe some of the detail I left out, LOTS of detail, but then, this IS the first draft and I AM just trying to get the story down and it IS flowing, and isn't that something?) I am actually unsure as to what other writers do, being as I don't know any others, but I read that Laurell K Hamilton SWEARS that you don't rewrite until the full story is down or you'll never finish a book.
Another author swears that you rewrite as you go, or you won't go where the story properly wants to take you.

I've tried both, and it seems I'm in the 'get the story down than make it pretty' camp.

And why am I telling you this?

Why, I'm telling you this because it's 8:23 p.m. at night, and I have yet to write my three pages, and I am loathe to, (I am a morning writer, truly, but today, I went and did mom/housewife errands) but I am determined and bound to a promise to myself that I would write three pages every day.

Yes, A promise to myself. I promised myself something that requires a lot of me to me. How funny, that i am doing this. But I promised myself that I wouldn't sit and not try to write a novel. And to write a novel one requires mass amounts of discipline, so I promised myself that no matter what, I would be disciplined, and write at least three pages a day. I promised myself that I wouldn't let myself down.

Myself is very happy, because myself feels that I truly mean it. And I am writing these three pages though all I want to do is drown myself in the naughty King Henry the VIII show, The Tudors, (Dynasty, only with History!) or the Other Boleyn Girl novel. But I made a promise to Myself and by golly, I mean to keep it.

But here's the thing that has me spooked.

I made a promise to Myself, and I am keeping it, so Myself will be happy. Myself is THRILLED that I'm going to write the three pages. I am struggling to do so, but, again, don't want to disappoint Myself, even though I'd rather be goofing off... Myself is nagging me because of what I said.

So, between Myself and I, who the heck-n-crap is Me?

ahhhh

Secret Life of a Soccer Mom

Someone sign me up for it.

I see it as a cheap way to get a job.

I can talk about some crazy dream of mine to be an executive of a publishing company or something.

At the end of the week, I will give a tear-felt speech to my family, whereby I tell them how much I love them, but that frankly, their appreciation of me has been a bit on the down-side, and it was time for us all to fly the nest.
Mommy will go to her new job, Turbo and Bear can go to daycare, I've already researched a couple of them, and Drama Girl will get her own key to let herself in after school.
Hubby McRed will take dinner duty three times a week.

I will cry, and sniffle, and then go take whatever job I was offered... and since it won't be the glamorous job portrayed on the television, I will stay there only long enough to get a better paying job somewhere else...

...would that be wrong?

Spring Break

In the past, spring break, you think

beaches
bikinis
beer
bummy kids

Okay, you still sorta think of it, because lets face it, it still means that, however,

In the new world of adult education, and the influx of adults who hold jobs while going to school, or while tending demon ferret monkey offspring, (post coming) spring break now means...

laundry getting done
no homework and class time at 9 p.m. when the kids are finally in bed
an actual dinner on the table
an hour in front of the idiot tube
two hours with a book you're reading FOR FUN
sheer giddiness and delight from the prospect of not having to deal with school

But, alas, no beaches.

Not for me.

And, I'm a bit sad about that.

What, it's only Wednesday?

I'm coming 'down' from my paper trauma.

It's in, and now I can fret about the grade and nasty mean comments I'll get, never mind my personal thoughts on the class... just... want...pain.... to....cease.... but.....still....get....degree....

My group in my other class, well, Abbot and Costello.

The upside?

I'm taking the night off :) and writing chapter nine and ordering pizza and not cooking and not thinking about school.

:)

The downside?

School makes me grumpy, and papers make me fretty, which make me eat ice cream.

Upside?

I saw Tulips sprouting on the way to pick up Drama Girl from school, which means SPRING IS COMING AND IT WILL BE WARM.

Downside?

Snow on Friday. WHAT?

:)

Look! I'm Procrastinating!

What am I doing?

Why, Procrastinating!

I am on the last bit of the first and most likely final draft of a paper I have drawn out for three days.

This is my last semester of class, and it is...toooorrrttuuuureee... because it just so happens, I decided, during the second to last semester of class, that while a masters in mgt. is handy, the PR sub-section of that degree is not, because during the second to last semester of class, I decided I most likely probably never want to work in PR.

So this paper is pure torture because it represents, a, a paper on a topic the teacher doesn't understand or care about, b, the second to last paper for this class and c, i didn't do so smackin' hot on the first paper, and nervousness makes me procrastinate more....


ahhhh

so, i'm procrastinating....

An insight into game drama

For those who think games is free of the gossip, drama, and the sort of petty goings ons that afflict other creative industries,

I give you snorehammer.

Skip down to all the comments, and you'll see the sort of love that goes on in the community. It is very hard to out-rantxor a master rantxor, and those in the gaming community are rant masters. I myself only dream of the rant ability of community game posters.

For those who for some reason would think that those in games, the gaming industry, and the gaming community, are above it, well, I mean, we're talking games here, what did you expect?

But before you click, let me clarify some things...

a) Everyone hates WoW because it's currently the biggest, baddest most successful game out there, and nobody is near toppling it currenlty.

b) Everyone hates WoW, but because it is currently the biggest, baddest most successful game out there, everyone is playing it.

c) The people that aren't playing it, are rare.

d) this is not a cheap ploy to get more viewers by linking to a well-viewed site. I can't maintain a blog with more than five readers as it is.

e) I don't play mmo's anymore. I would LIKE to. I enjoy them. I think they are fun. I just don't have the time.

f) I do not have the knowledge to either agree or disagree with whether or not the game is good, because I don't have the time to play the games, and it's not out yet.

g) Yes, I know people who work on it. They all say it's good. Except the angry bitter ones. Who say it's bad. We'll never really know until it comes out. Or I play it. Re, time.

h) I don't actually expect anyone to go through and READ the comments, I just did to admire the rant masters at work.

i) I'm on the 9th letter of the alphabet, and I just realized this post is super dull.

AW, shucks

You guys are so nice! bout my writing!

I now make it a rule that monday through friday I can not go to bed til I've written three pages, excluding my babbling journal writing (which will never ever see the light of the day).

But on to my DOOM TOPIC

SCCCHOOOOL.


This is the final semester FOREVER (I am pretty certain I'm going to bail on the MBA, but my husband, a few friends, and my sister think I'll regret it) ANYHOW.... I'm in my LAST SEMESTER OF MY MASTER'S PROGRAM.... my LAST TWO CLASSES...

and they are the freakin' hardest two classes ever.... like, both instructors are insane. They are like, Oh, so you are about to graduate, you think huh? None of my other classes have been this insanely difficult.

I'm slightly proud to say that one of the 4.0 GPA students in my group is going to 'discuss' our crappy group grade with our professor since it was b.s. But even aside from that, the classes are JUST HARD> ARGH.

And... I am so not in the mood... just end it... ahhhh I...just....want...to.....pass....

it's not like this degree is giving me ANY help in getting a job, anyhow! SHEESH!

And that, folks, is my school rant.

On Writing

I've been writing a consistent three pages a day for two weeks.

I have lots of writing to show it. I SHOULD be posting this on my 'writing' blog, but, alas, no one reads that one ha ha ha. And all five of you, well, I want you to share my giddiness at actually having the discipline to write three pages a day.

Go Me!

One day, I will have something to send out to an agent, so I too, can enter the world of 'unpublished writers' vs 'aspiring writers' though TECHNICALLY because all my jobs were 'writing' jobs, I'm actually an unemployed writer who is working on her own material in hopes of being published, and thus, employed.

Or something.

Ax Men, Really?

Okay,

I FELL for the crab fisherman show.
I was intrigued by Ice Road Truckers.

But....

Ax Men?

As in.... Loggers? Lumberjacks? Tree choppers?

I mean, it's an honest craft. I'm not saying it's easy, or safe.

But...

Ax Men?

Top 20, Bottom 10

I totally stole this from More Gravy.

More Gravy has been blogging more because she just had another baby, and finds herself frequently trapped under her laptop, baby, and baby-mauling toddler.

But hey, I stole it, yes, what can I say, when it comes to blogs, I have no creativity. Strange, considering I'm a writer.

Top 20: in no real order

1. My kids, yeah blah blah.
2. Fitting into my one pair of size 8 jeans because it's a 'skinny' day.
3. Dr. Who, Torchwood and BSG.
4. Clean laundry room with actual clean laundry
5. Long bubbly baths
6. Early bed time for the pre-schoolers
7. Coffee and chocolate biscotti
8. Tea and tea cookies
9. Shopping by myself
10. Buffy Nostalgia (followed by Angel Nosalgia which reawakens Buffy nostalgia, it's a cycle)
11. British Comedy
12. Being home with the boys the first four (probably five) years
13. Running around the track with the boys.
14. Reading quietly while Drama Girl reads quietly
15. Waking up early enough to have coffee without interuption
16. Library trip without the kids
17. Spring weather in February
18. A good book
19. Realizing your friend across the country is on Aim at midnight and you can chat
20. Sleeping

Bottom twelve, in no particular order-- it would have been ten, but the cat required more than one slot

1. Cellulite and 'jelly belly"
2. Looking for a job after not working for five years
3. The eternal last semester of school
4. Fighting children
5. Realizing Drama Girl hasn't done her homework in a week
6. Stategically placed cat throw up
7. Cat throw up used as a Statement by the Cat
8. Knowing the cat secretly likes Hubby McRed better
9. The fake tree in my living room
10. Doing work that I may never actually get any income from
11. Lack of good television on Thursday nights
12. How fast my eyebrows grow in

Torchwood

Right, I get why I love watching Dr. Who.

But someone please, PLEASE tell me why I can't stop watching Torchwood.

It's such an unlikely show to like, and the 'in the commercial break' explanatory interviews drive me nuts. Do they NEED to explain each plot, or character development technique? ARGH.

Yet, here I sit, watching Torchwood, and heaven forbid, if I miss it, I watch the repeat.

What, I'm not compatible with Wolverine? WTF?

So,

This is my comic hero match?

I mean, not Wolverine? Or, like, Batman?
I get a half cyborg?
I mean, he's got potent, def, but not Wolverine?

Now go find yours!

Elizabeth the Golden Age

The one thing about On-Demand is occasionally, there's actually a move on it that I want to see.

I thought Elizabeth, the Golden Age, was one of them.
Queen Elizabeth is one of my favorite, strong female role models.

Oh I don't buy into the 'Virgin' Queen bit, I like to think she managed to sneak a guy into the sack every now and again, but that's just a minor thing, over the course of her life and accomplishments, I always admired her place in history, her politcal savvy, her smarts, etc etc etc.

So what does Elizabeth the Golden Age portray?

A love-struck woman who goes half mad over Sir Walter Raleigh, screeching in despair and loves lornless (is that even a word) throes while Spain is getting ready to attack. She cries, she whines, she pouts, and she needs a strong man to set her straight. WHAT! WHAT! Sir Walter Raleigh is the man that sets her straight? WHAT?

Oh what a nice way to take a strong woman and turn her into a wretched whiny bitter loveless hag of a shrew.

I despised that movie.

Oh, and on TOP of that, to make it worse, they put her on horseback looking like an elfin queen from the Tolkien films rather than an actual Queen.

So my review for Elizabeth the Golden Age is..... bleeeaahhhh

Have you Checked Your Kids Math

So,

tonight, lets talk about fuzzy math. Math for people who hate math. Math that involves lots of 'in the ballparks, guesstimates, and concepts' rather tahn 2 + 2 is 4 and 2 * 2 is 4.

My Drama Girl is ADHD, with some unidentified learning disorder in math, which I'm beginning to suspect may be Fuzzy Mathitis. For years, she's been doing awful in math, and has been part of special math groups of other students who do horrible.

She came home the other day.
"How is school."
"Fine," she says, with the excitement of a canned sardine.

"How is Math?"
"Oh math? Math is good. It's easy now."
pause
Check Pulse
"It is?"
"Yeah, we are doing it a new way now."
"Really?"
"Yeah."

She then proceeds to pull out a math sheet, and perform.... MULTIPLICATION problems... the OLD WAY, the computational way, that we all learned when we were younger.

Same with division.

I am an anti new math person. I admit it.
Save the conceptualization, concepts, abstractions of math for the kids who are older. That stuff will come, but it won't come if they don't know their basic facts!

Just a thought.

Before 19-0

Okay so

The Big Game is here, and now, we take a break from the beloved sport for... politics.

Senate looking into Spygate
Posted: Friday February 01, 2008 06:05AM ET
The ranking Republican on the Senate Judiciary Committee wants NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell to explain why the league destroyed evidence related to spying by the Patriots. Senator Arlen Specter, Republican of Pennsylvania and ranking member of the committee, said that Goodell would eventually be called before the committee to address two issues: the league's antitrust exemption in relation to its television contract and the destruction of the tapes that revealed spying by the Patriots.

Now, which is the bigger issue here? And what did they not say? Oh, that the Senator is heavily backed by Comcast? No wait, the REAL issue is the league's antitrust exemption. Isn't the destruction of the tapes an internal matter within the NFL, especially since the team, and the coach, has already been fined?

Don't get me wrong, I think the spygate thing was a shame, however, I don't believe it did anything except piss the Patriots off enough to go 18-0, possibly 19-0. I don't believe it gave them an unbelievable advantage, and I'm not convinced they were the only team to do it. But, saying that, why, WHY did he destroy the tapes? I don't know. Frankly, I don't even care. It wasn't the Patriots that destroyed the tapes, it was the NFL Commissioner. I just hope it doesn't come back on the Pats heads.

Because really, I just want to watch football. And really, I'm tired of everyone hating the Patriots just because they won too much. It's not that they won too much, really, though, it's that it's not YOUR team that won that much. To which everyone yells OOOH SPYGATE, but, that doesn't explain 18-0. I read an article that says Spygate made the Pats 18-0 because of all the crap they got for doing something that, I dont think, significantly made a difference in their game.

Regardless, I just want to watch the last game of the season, and potentially the biggest game in NFL history with a potential 19-0 undefeated team, without hearing people talk about how nice it would be if Brady got hurt. Now, that there's real sportsmanship. OH MY, a team is WINNING and FABULOUS, lets hurt them? Ugh.

Quick Notes

Yes,

I did finish that second draft of that story I wrote, and now, I think it truly is vomit, but from what I understand, that is normal. I put it away and will look at it next week.

Yes,

I did write an actual OUTLINE of the first book of a planned-three-book-but-wouldn't-it-be-nice-if-it-were-ten-published-books series, and plan to start the first chapters sometime next week.

No,

I did not help Drama Girl with the fifth grade science project paper due tomorrow, and will have to finish it and send it Monday.

No,

I did not work today, like I planned, so I'll have to work tomorrow, which is Friday, and Work on Friday is a personal no-no for me, so I'm very sad about today's laziness. I wanted to be lazy tomorrow dammit.

Yes,
I suffer absurd writers angst.

Yes,
I am secretly hoping Hubby McRed's stepmother doesn't stop by because it will interfere with my normal Friday night Sci-Fi Fest.

That's It!

Yes I did - -Vicks Rocks (vaporrub)

Vicks Vapor Rubs Rocks

And it's now smothering my four year old's chest.

I got him when he was sleeping muahahahhaha.

I'm in the Vicks Rubs Rocks camp. My husband firmly in the Anti-Vick's camp.

But whatever it's value or worth, it DOES clear the sinuses at the very least....

The suffering woes of a blog

My poor blog, neglected these ten days.

My temp gig is going good. I'd LOVE it to be a permanent gig, but one never knows.

I'm doing my own writing again, a lovely story that is becoming more ironic horror than anything else. I was going for comedic horror, but that's really hard to do. It's only a short story, because the idea is basically how a character develops into something else entirely, and that can be done in short story form. I've never done this genre before, so it'll be interesting.

Also, I am working on another story that is a book. By working on, I mean, creating characters and history, so when I go down to write, it'll flow better. There's a lot of stuff that goes into that book, and while I would love to just sit down and write it, without the prep work I don't think I could.

Now, what I REALLY need is my sons to play upstairs this well and for this long EVERY day at this time.

Well,

Tah!

Off to do dastardly, ghastly deeds in my story!

Boxer Boys

So.

I've found the solution to the pantless wonder boy problem I have.
My sons just don't keep pants on. At. All. I manage shorts, they'll keep shorts on longer than pants, but still, eventually, my little boys just toss them off and run around in little brief briefs.

Their underwear.

Then, eventually, Turbo will put his on backwards, and every time I see him, an image of Freddy Mercury pops into my head.

I had to stop this...

thus, boys boxer briefs.

Ala Boxers for Preschoolers.

These things are GREAT.

The boys love them. They are long enough that, with a shirt, I can pretend they are wearing shorts, and, when one puts them on backwards, there's no butt cheek sticking out.

So now the world knows.

My sons wear boxers.

How cool are they.

Out of the blue, blue

So, I've been handling my mom's passing away fairly well, I suppose, as well as anyone.

I mean, we had our last Mother's Day together, (don't even try to find me on mother's day this year, despite being a mother, I don't think I can quite handle the memory) watching Sarah Plain and Tall, which is now engraved in my memory, I was there with my sister and brothers all at the same time, so she got to see all her children one last time. I held her hand. I hugged her. I told her I loved her. She said the same. We smiled. She smiled so much when we were there. But she was so sick.

Anyhow. She passed away some time ago. In July, I suppose it was. Does it matter? It seems like she's been dying since last Easter (another holiday I may have to avoid this year -- it was Easter we got the awful news). I made it through the rest of the summer. I made it through my birthday in October. I made it through my daughter's, and my son's birthdays in November and December. I survived Thanksgiving. I beared Christmas, may have even given off the illusion of enjoying myself.

New Year's, however, did me in. I refused to celebrate it, to even acknowledge it, and went to bed at 10:30. I woke up New Year's Day, without the normal yearly Happy New Year phone call. My mother loved holidays, so you can forgive my scroogeness, because she made so many ordinary holidays so happy. So, New Years Day I woke up in a profound mood -- glad 2007 was over, but not really trusting 2008 to do me right. I made it through the day though, and the week, and now it's past midnight on Jan. 6, making it officially Monday, Jan 7, and I can't sleep because tonight, for no real reason whatsoever, I decided to terribly terribly miss my mom.

And I can't go to sleep because she is on my mind. And, not actually being alive, I can't do anything about it except sit here and miss her terribly. I would pull out a picture, except the image of her is ingrained in my mind, so there's no need.

I would normally express this awful dilemma to my brother, who is not online, because he's in bed, or my sister, who works in a lab at night, or even my brother-in-law, who knew how close we were to her, but no one is around, so, it's just the blog and I.

Somewhat employed for a bit

I am somewhat employed for a short time, working from home.
SWEET

It is a short-term gig which will get extended if we all get along and they like what I do.

We all like each other so far, but it's the details, they liked the ideas I had, but now I have to write for them :) and that they have to like.

If the gig gets extended, sweet, if not, at least it's a new, current bulletin on my resume, AND, I'm working from home, did I mention that?

It's perfect since I have two classes left from my master's and can't really afford daycare just yet for the twins. What I want, though, is full time salaried eventually, because lets face it, contract work is nice but not stable.

I've got a 'we've got someone who can hook you up with gigs' response, but honestly, that never has worked for me. We shall see!

actual news

I....


I....


I....

have news.....

Scrooge McLahdeeda

Was I a scrooge the year before last?

I can't recall.

All I know is I am Swamped. With a capital S. SWAMPED as in all caps.

I have a 15 page paper due Sunday (working on) and a term project for a class I barely understand due the week after, but of which is somehow more time consuming.

I have Christmas presents to buy (have I done any Christmas shopping? Heck n crap no... too busy) and we are going through a thing with Drama Girl which requires weekly appointments for the next month (well, through Dec. 21).

I'm not looking forward to Hubby McRed's office Christmas party at all.

...and by the way, what does one do, actually, when one finally gets a masters, but hasn't been in the work force? It's very difficult to find a job, no matter what you do or what you have, but I've essentially given up (I think) a job in writing, public relations, or communications, because those three areas seem incredibly unbelievably difficult for me to get into, and perhaps I should just read those signs...

(Yes, I am going to join the communication's writers group Blister to My Eye sent me, as soon as I can find the link, but I've given up hope. I can't decide if I'm an idiot or I'm just not really in the field I think I am)

Well,

Wish me luck, I'm off to a phone conference for my incredible difficult class! Tah!

Oooh and if I"m lucky, I can still GET to the Enterprise's Christmas Party... argh.