Just now getting a clue?

This is my dog Quincy.



She is 7 years old. We've had her since she was a puppy. The furniture in our bedroom has been arranged the same way since we moved in: a bed, a nightstand, a dresser, a mirror.

Last night while I was trying to watch the Project Runway reunion show and do yoga (I know, yoga people, I shouldn't watch TV while doing yoga but I consider it multi-tasking and I like it so ... there), but Quincy was barking.

Barking?

This dog rarely barks. At. Anything. She'll bark at a neighbor's cat sometimes, but mostly she doesn't bark.

And what was she barking at last night?

Her own damn reflection in the mirror.

She's sat in front of the mirror a kajillion times over the last 7 years, but last night at 11:20 she decides that other dog in the mirror needed to be told to step off.

'the hell?

Battle of the Books, year 2

Last night Margaret participated in her second Battle of the Books competition.

Last year Margaret and her one teammate fought a noble fight but they got one wrong answer, knocking them out of a first place tie.

This year, her second grade had a full team of three. And this year Margaret and I spent most Tuesday evenings at the library reading books off the battle list.

Second graders had 22 books. Margaret read them all but one. Not too shabby. Their great teacher, Ms. Mac did a great job preparing the girls. But Mar was still nervous ... look at that face.

Like last year, I sat nervously in the audience. I don't care about her winning, but I want her to do well and be satisfied with her performance in the competition.

Her team did well, only missing two questions, but they were by far the most distracted team.

They were giggling and goofing around and not paying attention. And when it was their turn to answer they were by far the funniest team. They would answer in tandem and act out their concern over not knowing.
They didn't win, but they sure were cute while they were trying.

Being green is slow work, yo

Last night I taped a note to the cabinet to remind Bill to take out the recycling this morning.

When I came home for lunch, I found an amendment to my note:

"Takeing (sic) too long"
"Mar"

Saving the world by recycling one Fiji water bottle at a time is just too darn slow for a 7-year-old.

I like my new ...

This morning my co-worker and co-Haute Mama, Richie, sent me a message thanking me for getting Kimya Dawson's song "So Nice So Smart" stuck in her brain. Her comment was full of sour-casm (that's Mar talk for "sarcasm" but I like sour-casm so much better, so we never correct her).

But I know what she means about that song taking root in your brain. I've been pretty much listening to the Juno soundtrack non-stop for the last week. Mar has learned the words to many of the songs and during dinner one night, she sung out, "I like my new bunny suit."

It was awesome. I love Kimya's music. It's so (say it with me now) low-fi and quirky. I find it comforting in it's simplicity, yet totally get the edgy vibe of her lyrics.

And these days I like surrounding myself with things that make me feel better. I always have a bottle of Fiji water and a bag of soy nuts ... because I loves me some soy nuts. I'm doing yoga as much as I can and I spending lots of time with my Bed Buddy.

Now get your mind out of the gutter, a Bed Buddy is a long sack filled with ... uh, something that gets warm when you cook it in the microwave for two minutes. Then I sit or lie with the this thing draped over my back or along my gut or at my feet. It's awesome. I've considered taking it with me to work, but with my ever-present Fiji and Kimya-blaring iPod, I think I'll just save the Bed Buddy for home.

In Simpsons and in health

Margaret's cough is back. Or maybe it's a new cough.

Regardless, I'm home this afternoon with her. When I came home at noon, she was cuddled up on the sofa doing a puzzle and watching Simpsons episodes.

She loves herself some Simpsons. Who said TV isn't a good babysitter?

Since that's all I've got today. Here's the poster our friend made for our March 8 show:



Oh and I made a quirky and low-fi video over the weekend. Check it out.

It's quirky and low-fi

"I like my new bunny suit."

Music: "So Nice So Smart" — Kimya Dawson
"Vampire" — Antsy Pants
"My Rollercoaster" — Kimya Dawson
"Sleep" — Kimya Dawson

Not going back to rehab, we're going back to SXSW!

That's right, Riveter is going back to South by Southwest for GoGirlsMusic.com's Invasion of the GoGirls. And we're having a pre-SXSW show at our favorite watering hole, the Quincy Bar on March 8.

It's going to be a good time.

A Dear John love letter

Dear John Fluevog,

My uber-husband bought me my first pair of Fluevogs for Valentine's Day yesterday.

I love these shoes. Love them in a way that is just not right. They are quirky and anachronistic and cute and comfortable and I want to hug them and kiss them and hold hands with them ... if they had hands.

Instead, I'm going to just declare my love for them and for you for creating such uber-cute shoes. All the affection and admiration is going to Bill for getting me such a lovely gift for a holiday that has really of no significance or consequence at all.

In closing, please keep making shoes and I will start saving all my pennies to buy as many as I can.

Fluvogs forever.

Sincerely,
Fluevog-wearing Rivetergirl

Happy Fluevog Day to me

It's Valentine's Day. Margaret made me a beautiful card adorned with Christmas tress and hearts (really, Christmas trees). Bill brought me a gorgeous bouquet of flowers and a box of nuts and chews (my favorite).

Bill got a pair of hockey breezers — aka hockey pants. I think they look like he's wearing a barrel and getting ready to go over the falls, but he's super excited about them, so happy Valentine's Day to him.

In addition to the flowers and chocolate, Bill got me a very special gift. They haven't come yet, but I know what it is and couldn't be more excited. Bill got me my very first pair of Fluevogs.



So it's been a special day and it had a very special start this morning. Click over here to see a video of Mar doing a Valentine's Day dance to Mott the Hoople.

A case of the losies

Bill lost his giant set of work keys.

Sean lost one of his giant Christmas shoes. (The other one still sits on the front porch waiting for its mate ... )

Margaret lost her homework packet.

I lost my groovy little wallet/bag/thing with my iPod chords and my 1 gig jump drive.

Doh!

I hate losing things. I feel so discombobulated and am now fearful that everything is going to get lost. I keep checking my purse and bag over and over again.

Maybe it's just another manifestation of what I'm sure is going to blossom into a full-blown, keeping-my-pee-in-jars case of OCD.

Angelina's foot issue

I had a dream last night that Bill and I met Angelina Jolie and ended up hanging out with her. For some reason she needed to borrow my brand-new snow boots.

At the end of the dream, Bill and I were leaving her house and he handed me my boots saying that I should boil them before I wear them as she had a really terrible foot fungus.

Why? Why would that be what I dream about? Gah! My stupid subconscious wasting a completely good celebrity.

Because Emily asked

Here's a picture of the rack in my bathroom ... because Emily asked so nice and I like Emily. She's fun ... I miss her.


I took this one of Mar's room during my lunch hour, too. It's a sucky photo, but it shows the wall decals we put up this weekend ... yet another Bed, Bath and Beyond clearance item ($2.50 thankyouverymuch). And it shows a bit of the head board we got there as well ($19.98 oh yeah!).
It's such a crappy picture because I didn't want anyone to call the wildlife officials when they saw the number of animals roaming free on Margaret's unmade bed.

A weekend of miracles and accidents

It wasn't an exciting rock 'n' roll weekend, but it was one of the better weekends I've had for a long time. Bill and I had a retail therapy experience at Bed, Bath and Beyond's clearance aisle.

Dude, we got a bunch of stuff for the house for 75 percent off. Woot for the clearance aisle.

The one thing we plunked a whopping 5 bucks for was a rack that sits over the toilet.

This $5 rack has been quite the focus of our attention.

First of all, we had to remove a towel bar to allow the installation of the aforementioned rack. The towel bar had been installed by the previous owners. I assumed (stupidly) that I could unscrew the four screws patch the holes and call it good.

Uh no.

I stripped out one of the screws and another one would not budget. Then we realized that the rack had been glued to the wall and attached via giant molly bolts.

After much swearing and sweating, we got the rack off the wall, but two gigantic holes in the blue paint remained. Not wanting to repaint the entire bathroom for a $5 rack, I scraped a bunch of tiny paint chips into a baggie and took them to our neighborhood True Value store.

I showed the nice paint guy my chips. He sighed and said that need about a quarter size area to match paint. He then meticulously taped the tiny chips together and put them into his machine.

The resulting paint looked close, but we had no idea how close. Worst case scenario was that I'd have to repaint the entire bathroom with the new color.

A miracle happened. The nice paint guy created a virtually exact match. I'm amazed.

So the paint looks good, but the rack ... we're still not sure about that $5 rack. It takes up a lot of room in an already tiny bathroom. We're going to try it out for a while and see if we like it. If not, we're only out $5 for the rack (I'll ignoring the $11 I spent on paint).

Bill helped me complete other small projects around the house, despite the fact that he wanted to be spending his time trying on his new hockey gear and skates.

All this shopping and home-improvement projects and trying on of the hockey gear was accompanied by the sounds of the Juno soundtrack.

I haven't seen the movie yet and I didn't really want to buy the soundtrack. I was trying to buy a Moldy Peaches album and carelessly bought the soundtrack instead. It turned out to be such a happy accident. With songs by Mott the Hoople and Sonic Youth mixed with the lo-fi quirkness of Kimya Dawson and the bands she's associated with, it's exactly what I've been wanting to hear lately.

Oh and I also make sugar cookies from scratch. Read about that over here.

Snow Frida Saturday

We've been getting regular snow storms here which is odd for us. It's not a lot of snow, but it's been wreaking some havoc.

I think our cats are going to revolt on us. They spend most of their time staring at us wondering why in the hell haven't we removed the snow from the outdoor places they like to be.

I've wondered what would happen if they got the dog and decided to mutiny. Three cats and a skinny dog. Pretty scary.

Hopefully we'll never have to see that played out.

We were doing some stuff around the house and on one of my trips to the shed, I noticed all the kitty prints in the snow.

Markel know all the funny shit

The fake Match.com photo below was sent to me by my friend, Markel. He knows all the funny Internets stuff.

As a follow up to the picture, he sent this link.

Awesomely funny for a Friday.

So glad I'm not single

Beans for yoga

I've started doing yoga again. It is really a necessity for my sanity and the well-being of my family. I'm hoping that the practice will bring me back to center instead of the wild pendulous spinning from extreme to extreme that seems to be my norm.

I seem to have moved beyond the one "just irritated" mood to variations of that mood. I like to call them the "completely despondent" mood or "fake good" mood or the most common mood of "indifference." There's no relaxed mood or contented mood or fun mood, "just irritated" and its variants.

I'd like to see my regular moods again, so I'm back to yoga. And it pleased me to see that Fussy posted a new installment of Yogabeans. If Aquaman can do yoga with one arm and Storm Shadow can do it with one foot, I certainly can do it with my one mood.

I'm doing it at home, because I can't find a class that will fit into the 90 seconds of free time that I eek out on a daily basis. I'm hoping to get the figured out, too. I think going to a class is way better than practicing while Bill asks me questions about what movies we should put on our Netflix queue.

Even if I don't get my old moods back, I like doing yoga. It makes me at least feel like I'm doing something good for myself.

Automatic

Before I had a kid, all of the cars I owned were manual transmissions.

I loved driving a standard. I loved clutching and shifting and being in charge.

Then I got pregnant with Mar and we bought an SUV that was an automatic. It took me a while to get used to it. I thought it was an aberration, that the next car would be a manual and I'd be back to shifting and clutching again.

I was wrong. I like the automatic. It's easier.

When Mar was just a tiny nut, I used to have to find the lost pacifier and plug it back into her crying gob at stop signs. This is much easier to do without having to worry about keeping the clutch in.

Now we have a car/truck/SUV/whatever that I like and want to keep for a long time.

I realized today one of the things that I really like about it is that it's an automatic.

It's not just because automatics shift smoother and are easier to operate than a manual transmission, it's that it's WAY easier to eat a Peppermint Patty while driving an automatic.

I like to nibble my Patties, not gobble them down while driving. This requires holding of the Patty for a long period of time and a gently rotation of it to maximize the snacking pleasure. This is not something that can be done if one needs hands free to operate a car.

So, I've given in to the simple joy of gassing and braking of the automatic transmission.

More talk, less snow

I wrote more about Margaret's snow day over here. I even admit that I'm glad that she has the Nintendo DS my brother and sister-in-law sent her for Christmas this year.

Their gifts arrived in the middle of January. I think this is great, because it takes the pressure off me sending my nephew's birthday present. His birthday was Jan. 11. I have had the gift since about Jan. 13. All that needs to happen now is for the magic gift-wrapping elves to come wrap them and put them in the box. Then the box can sit on my table for another week or so.

Then Zoom! off Colby's gifts will go.

Lickety split. Dearing style.

Snow day

This is what it looks like across my desk today ... littered with little kid stuff and a little kid.
She's not sick, Bill's not too sick today and neither am I ... but the school district is. Over night they decided that the 5 inches of snow and the threat of cold temperatures and forecast of more white stuff caused them to close all schools for the day.

And guess what?

It's sunny and relatively mild today. No bitter cold. No more snow. Just sun and wet streets.

We have been having a bad winter. But I think the district jumped the gun on this snow day. Hopefully, this will be as bad as it gets.

The face of flu

Bill actually perked up a bit last night and was hungry for dinner. I offered to heat up some soup and make some grilled sandwiches. He wanted KFC.

Bliech! I'm not a fan, but I went to KFC for Bill ... because he's got the flu ... and I'm trying to be all nice 'n' shit.

And how could I say no to such a sad, sick dude wearing a cold wash cloth on his head?

Not to mention he's been wearing those "Surrounded by nuts!" pants.

Just in case you didn't know, the flu sucks!

Our doctor gave Bill a prescription for Tamiflu to help lessen his symptoms and one for both Mar and I to help prevent us from getting the flu altogether. Hurray!

Each prescription was $80. Boo! (But really, not getting the flu is worth $80.)

I brought Bill soup for lunch. Hurray!

He's too sick to eat it. Boo!

So, I have this to say to you, Flu: Suck it!

In sickness and in health

Bill hasn't been feeling well for the past couple days. He was up all night last night coughing and feeling achy and being both feverish and getting the chills.

Sounds like the flu.

But it can't be the flu because he got the flu shot, right? Right?

Wrong. He's got the flu. The doctor fit him in this morning and confirmed the flu has made itself home with Bill.

Gah!
Flu!

I don't want the flu.

I called Bill earlier and he could barely talk from all the teeth chattering.

I'm going to bring him soup for lunch. Poor Flu Bill.

On a non-flu note, I posted over here about how I'm supposed to be actually listening to my kid. What's that all about?

Question

Is it wrong for parents to put the TV on mute and then giggle to themselves while listening to their 7-year-old daughter as she grunts and talks to herself while she's pooping?

I've never known anyone to do that and would never, ever do that myself. It was just a question I had in my head. You know those questions, like "What is the meaning of life?" and stuff like that.

Now with less irritation

To alleviate my aforementioned irritation, I planned to have lunch with Bill at the fancy restaurant on his campus. Nicely cooked pork chops and polenta always helps my mood (and one of the culinary faculty comped us ... nice and not irritating!).

There was a group of young students standing near the door as we walked into the building. One called out to Bill, "Hey Mr. McCracken, is that your wife?"

Bill's reply, "Yep. I did pretty good, huh?"

And the irritation meter slides back down to low.

A theme for 2008

I'm irritated. I'm irritated a lot lately. It's a theme for me.

Mar asked the other day, "Are you irritated now? Because I want to ask you something." And I probably was irritated.

I was irritated last night when I got my teaching evaluations from my class last semester and one student said that I didn't smile enough when I walked into the class room. 'the hell?

I was doubly irritated that photocopies were made (not by me, but I'm not pointing fingers) of my syllabus from last spring and I didn't notice it until after class. It's been a total cluster trying to get that sorted out.

Then I had a dream last night that still has me all upset. Stupid subconscious.

I need a vacation.

Only at 2 a.m.

This was hilarious to me Saturday night at 2 a.m.

Weeding out the cleaning

It was tough, but Bill and I got it done. It took longer than we expected and we had some "do-overs" but we did it.

We watched the entire third season of the Showtime show Weeds over the weekend.

That show is awesomely hilarious and brilliant and sometimes more than a little unbelievable, but great nonetheless.

Because we stayed up late Friday and Saturday night and because Bill is old, he kept falling asleep. I would poke him and pinch him and generally annoy him, but we still had to go back and re-watch some episodes. But we got it done.

The hardest part was keeping Margaret occupied while we tried to watch episode after episode. This is definitely not a kids show. Luckily she goes to sleep early!

To make up for my slothful ways, yesterday I cleaned all the floors in the house (sans basement) and then ... and then ... people and animals walked on them putting their dirty feet all over my clean floors.

Cleaning is so overrated. Have you ever been able to get the laundry done and keep it done?

Exactly. Pointless.

Phone-iness

Last night Margaret called my brother to thank him and his family for the Christmas gifts she received.

Let me tell you, Mar and Sean were super excited to get their gifts in the middle of January. They still would have appreciated them on Christmas day, but Christmas in January rocks.

After Mar was done thanking everyone, she asked my brother, "Do you want to talk to my mom?"

That question was followed by this, "No, she's not pooping."

That was an obvious reference to yesterday's post. I should take this moment to clarify that neither Bill nor I like talking on the phone while in the bathroom. The problem is Margaret is prone to forcing the phone into your hand, regardless of what you are doing and walking away.

Once she handed me the phone while I was in the shower. The call was from one of my students. And Mar had told this student that I was in the shower.

Talk about awkward.

Phone call gone bad

Bill picked up Margaret from school yesterday before I got home from work yesterday. I called him about something and Margaret answered the phone:

Mar: Halllooowah.

Me: Hey honey. Lemme talk to Daddy real quick.

Mar: OK, but you're going to hear a lot of this: (followed by some guttural grunting)

Then Mar hands to phone to Bill.

Me: (thinking to myself: 'the hell?)

Bill: (guttural grunting sounds)

Me: Are you pooping?

Bill: You called me. I can't help it.

What do you do with one shoe?

I posted a story about how Sean's carelessness is catching up with him over here. Bill said that I should have wrote about why Sean wasn't in school Tuesday.

Tuesday was "enrichment" day at Sean's high school. "Enrichment" — the word seems so positive and good. But yet enrichment day is utterly not.

Monday was Martin Luther King Jr. Day, so the kids were off. Monday night, Sean told Bill that he didn't have school Tuesday because it was enrichment day.

Being the skeptical parent that Bill is, he called the school Tuesday and was told that enrichment day is a day for students to catch up on school work and complete assignments, etc. If a student had no missing assignments or work to catch up on, they didn't have to go to school.

'the hell?

I would like to know who thought up this idea. Kids get a day off school for no good reason, unless they are missing work ... then they have to go? I would love to know how many kids actually went. Does this work? Why not have enrichment day on Saturday instead?

We have no idea if Sean was supposed to even be there, as all his school stuff goes through Sean's mom. So he got to sleep until noon then wander off to do nothing for the rest of enrichment day.

I wish I could take an enrichment day from work. I'd sleep in, then have a beer. Maybe lay around in my underwear all day.

OK, maybe enrichment day wouldn't be so bad after all.

Not so fierce

I know I revisited a topic from days gone by yesterday, but I've got more to say on this topic that I discussed two years ago.

(For those unwilling to click the link, in February 2006 I waxed poetic about the problem with control-top pantyhose and the dreaded muffin top.)

Not long after that post, I stopped wearing pantyhose. They are so delicate that I put my finger through them in about 35 seconds and they just don't fit me right ... ever. My legs are not two slender cylinders of smooth lady-skin. Nope, they are two giant cones of cellulite and dimples.

But, for some stupid reason, I decided to break my self-inflicted ban on the hose du panty and bought myself a pair to go with a new skirt ... and my boots, of course.

I avoided the "control-top" variety like the plague — dude, the fat has to go somewhere and out the top just doesn't ever look good. I opted for the regular fit, whatever the hell that means. This morning I was able to get them on with little difficulty, so it wasn't until I put on my shirt that I realized the trouble with pantyhose.

See, it doesn't matter if they are control-top or not, the waist band is designed to stay up. This design requires a fair amount of waist-cinching material. So while the hose part fits fine, the top of the panty part creates an unsightly dent in my jelly gut.

I tried pulling the waist band up to my ribs and down low around my hips ... didn't matter. There was a dent. A visibly noticeable dent.

The waistband of the skirt did not camouflage the offending dent at. all.

Instead I realized that the waistband of the skirt created its own problem. The skirt has a thick kind of cummerbund band around the top, but it doesn't lie against the skin. Oh no, that would be cute and/or nice. No, the waistband instead stands straight up and away from my body, creating a pointy lump.

So now I have a dent and pointy lump at and around my waist area.

My question is: Why? Why can't the pantyhose stay up without the egregious cinching and why can't the skirt's band lie against my skin like a waistband should? Am I asking too much? Being too unreasonable? Or am I just crazy to think clothes will ever look good on me?

While I ponder these questions, I'm going to draw attention away from my waist issues by clomping around supermodel/horsey style in my boots. At least they fit sans dents or lumps.

Out of the mouths of babes

Richie wrote a hilarious story about her kid wanting his dad to help him with a candy cane over here.

When you have kids you have to start watching what you say, what they see on TV and elsewhere and you have to start explaining a whole bunch of things that you may or may not be in the mood to discuss.

This all takes me back in time to two years ago when I started this blog. My first entry addressed one of those crucial parenting moments and how I flubbed it like a real candidate for year's worst mom. Good times.

Oh, it's good stuff. Go on, click it.

Soup and fake photos

Yesterday was soup day at my work. That's why I didn't post ... I was too busy eating soup.

Soup day is awesome. We had more than a dozen different kinds of soup. I tried them all. They were great. Click the link and you can get some recipes. And I brought soup, too. Soup that I made myself and people ate it. I don't think it was the favorite, but I'm satisfied that I made soup to share at all. So go me.

Today I posted over here about sledding and included some pictures. Granted they are not pictures of us sledding, but they are pictures of people sledding. What more could you want?

So I got a new pair of work pants. They have some buttons on the front and back of the waistband. I was inspired by the cute buttons to tuck my shirt in.

Gasp!

I know, tucking in is akin at accessorizing for me ... it just doesn't happen, but today I tucked in. I'm trying something new.

While I was gathering my stuff and getting ready to leave for work, Margaret starts laughing. She was laughing at me — or I should say that she was laughing at my pants. Apparently the buttons on the waist look like eyes and the seam down the middle looks like a mouth. And if you press my gelantious rump cheeks together (which she did) it makes the butt monster talk.

That's how I started my Friday.

Now he just scares me

When I was a kid, around 11 or 12, there was no Internets and MTV only showed those same 11 Thomas Dolby videos over and over again (remember that when MTV played music videos — I'm old). So for the times when we weren't hogging up the one phone line in the house, we had to find other things to do.

For some of my girlfriends and I, that meant walking down to the local grocery and buying teen magazines, like Tiger Beat (here's the link to the 2008 incarnation), and cutting out the pictures of our favorite teen heartthrobs.

I am loathe to admit that once in my lifetime, my bedroom wall was literally covered in pictures of ... (I'm gagging just thinking about it) ... Tom Cruise.

Oh, I wish it weren't true, but it is.

And now he's a scientologist fundie, crazy, cradle-robbing nutjob. Don't believe me? Click here and watch the video.

My favorite part is where he says that only scientologists can help someone who's been in a car accident. 'the hell?

So not helping the bags under my eyes

Maybe we should just give in and buy a king-size bed. Click over here to read why.

Monday part dos

I keep getting the feeling that if I buy more stuff, I'll feel more better.

Amazingly that does not work. Still even more amazing is the fact that I keep on hoping for some benefits from ye olde retail therapy.

Recently, I decided I needed some boots. I wanted a good pair that would be a little dressy that could go with jeans, pants and skirts. I figured this would be a great opportunity to finally get my hands on a pair of Fluevogs.

I scoured their site over the weekend, trying to find something I loved and something that Bill would agree was worth their hefty price. No luck. So I went to zappos.com and studied boot after boot and still came up with nothing.

Sunday morning, Bill and I coerced Margaret into the car for a shopping trip by allowing her to wear her Heelys — which I know are annoying for the other shoppers, but it's the only thing that keeps her even marginally entertained if we want to shop for ourselves.

While we were out, I found a pair of inexpensive boots that will suffice until I can find the boot of my dreams. They have a tall heel on them and because I've been watching way too many reruns of America's Next Top Model and Project Runway, I feel compelled to develop my own runway walk.

I find myself trying to take those big, horsey steps, bending my knee up to my navel while firmly planting my hands on my hips.

I don't think it looks very good, but it's fun. It's like marching in a one-horse parade.

It ain't all that bad

I woke up from an icky dream early this morning. I dreamt that I was bleeding all over my brand-new set of cream-colored, flannel sheets.

And you know what? I was bleeding and I had horrible cramps and a headache. Being a woman can really suck. When does menopause start?

I got myself put together and went back to bed. Even though we've been going to bed early most nights, I'm utterly exhausted and was looking forward to a couple more hours of sleep.

Then I looked at the clock. It said 6:09. I had less than 20 minutes until my alarm was set to go off.

Happy Monday to me. But I'm here at work and it's amazing how four ibuprofen and a bottle of Fiji make things not quite so sucky.

I think the fact that I finally got my hair done is helpful, too. Having the forest of gray hair that is growing right in front of my head, waving at me every morning was really getting to me. And why do those nasty grays have to manifest themselves right in the front of my head? Why can't they be in the back where I won't see them? Gah! Stupid getting older.

And because things aren't so terribly horrible, here's some photos:
I laughed at these pants when Bill got them for Christmas and now he never gets to wear there. They are so soft and warm ... um, not that I've ever worn them.



We Western Slopers just ain't used ta so much snow.


But it sure is purty.

Man Stroke Woman

Last week, while clicking around the Internets, I came across this YouTube clip:



I thought it was pretty funny and watched a couple more. I figured out these were clips from a British sketch comedy show, Man Stroke Woman, and it was pretty flippin' hilarious. I checked Netflix and found they had the first season of this show so I put it at the top of our queue.

When it came, Bill was skeptical, but quickly he was hurting himself laughing. Since we've shown episodes to some of our friends who agrees that Man Stroke Woman is some pretty funny shit.

I was all proud of myself for finding something new and funny.

Then yesterday, I clicked over to one of the regular mommy blogs that I read and found this. And I realized that I'll always be a giant step behind the rest of the Internets.

It happened again

I made more food last night and we ate it for dinner. My husband does this a lot and I am starting to see the benefits of this "cooking" thing.

I made this. Sorry I didn't take a picture, but it looked like meat piled on noodles and fresh vegetables.

I think I'm getting into this cooking thing. Lawd knows I like to eat food, so I guess it makes sense.

The banshees in my head are dancing a rumba, so I'm punting on the rest of today's entry.

Tomorrow's Friday, please.

Hot chocolate and cold days

I've seen a lot of this lately:
mostly because we've been getting a lot of this:

After a cup of hot chocolate, Margaret tendslooks like this:
All blurry and spun out on sugary chocolate. But Bill keeps giving it to her and who am I to deny her?

Wait at minute, aren't I the mother? I guess the answer to that questions is debatable.

Anyhoo, we've been getting snow regularly. Here's Bill "shoveling" our brand-new neighbors' walk:

I say "shoveling" because it isn't really shoveling if you can scrape the snow to one side without having to pick up the shovel.

But it sure does make our brown winters look pretty:


(Today's entry was brought to you by the colon. Why use a period when you can use a colon:)

I made soup

I hope it didn't suck and people were just being nice.

Gah!

Click here to read about rivetergirl in the kitchen.

Folding frenzy

Some people are really smart and creative and some of those people have a lot of time on their hands.


Click here to see more moneygami.

I'm totally going home tonight and folding some money (hey, it's better than folding laundry).

Happy eve of the new year

Fresh and clean, we get to start a brand-new year tomorrow. Some people make resolutions. I have no allusions that I can just decide to make significant changes to myself.

For me, change happens because of something, not just my mind saying, "Dude, you should so lay off the brownies ... I mean, you ass is getting huge." There's got to be something else simply because my determination has A.D.D.

I know this. I don't pretend otherwise.

Determination A.D.D. is the antithesis of resolution making. So instead this New Year's Eve, I'll be cherishing this time with my family and my friends.

Happy New Year!

With a side of envy

Margaret and Bill are home today, like they were yesterday and like they will be all of next week.

It's a great relief actually, having Bill be off from school. Margaret doesn't have to go to daycare and she can spend the days hanging with her dad. Those two have a really good time together.

Bill gets stuff done around the house, but doesn't get hung up on the notion that if he's not engaged in some significant project then the time home is wasted (like I do). He enjoys his time at home with Mar ... and so does she.

Before leaving work for lunch today, I called Bill to see what was on the lunchtime agenda. He had already made my lunch as they were preparing to go to the movies this afternoon.

I felt a pang of jealousy and asked if they could wait for me to get off work ... I like to go to the movies.

I probably should have just left them to go by themselves, but I didn't and they happily agreed to wait a couple hours so I could tag along. And that's what's even more awesome about Bill and Mar, their ability to be flexible.

I have a lot to learn from them ... still after all these years.

Let it snow

Around 5 this morning, being sandwiched between Bill in his hot, fleece, "Surrounded by nuts" pants and wiggly, elbowy Mar was more than I could stand. Because I had to go to work in the morning, Bill got kicked to the curb ... OK, he really ended up in Mar's stuffed-animal-filled bed, but still ...

So it was just more insult to injury when I woke him up once again at 7:30 this morning to shovel the drive and get my car started, because it had snowed a couple inches over night. But because he's a good guy, he got up without complaint, donned his snow boots and threw a jacket on over his pajamas and braved the cold for me.

Did I say "good guy," because I really mean "great guy" — especially since the neighbor across the street made fun of his bright, yellow, M&M pants.

Here are a couple of pictures I took on my way to my nicely warmed-up car this morning:


To read about how we spent our Christmas Eve, click over here. Believe me, you wanna click ... my kid is either crazy or a genius ... or both.

Spoiled

Christmas has always been the most important holiday for my family and this is a tradition that I am trying to maintain.

In a normal year, we bake cookies to take to our friends and neighbors and have people over to celebrate. This year is not a normal year, but it was still important to me that we have a normal Christmas celebration.

Lucky for Margaret, Santa brought some really fun gifts. Margaret gave Bill and I two of her "published" stories from school — a wonderful gift indeed. Bill spoiled me with an iPod Nano (I've been dying for one of these ever since they came out) and we all got a bunch of really lovely gifts.

One of my favorite gifts this year was not something I either gave or received, it was a gift that Bill received from his mom ... these bright yellow, fleece pants:

with M&Ms all over them with the phrase "Surrounded by nuts" printed all over them.

Awesome.

Merry Christmas Eve

I've been out of town and away from the world of the Internets.

I'm back now and plan to begin posting regularly once we get through the holidays.

I'm at work this morning and posted a funny story about Bill trying to think on his own over here. Silly boy ... trying to do stuff all by himself.

Lightening the load

For the past two years I've been updating this blog five days a week, give or take a day here or there (omitting the week I was in Buffalo where they only had dial-up and a tree fell on the phone line).

I'm going to take a break for a while. I need to direct my attentions elsewhere.

I hope everyone has a merry Christmas and a happy new year.

Fall into winter

You need a coat if you're going to go outside now. We turn up the thermostat when we're home and Margaret never strays more than 6 inches from our space heater. So winter's here.

Even though it's cold, the light is so gorgeous during those fleeting daylight hours.

Shhh ...

I had lunch with Bill today. I enjoy seeing Bill during my work day. We talk about what's going on and we can even swear without being reprimanded by our 7-year-old language cop.

While we like to have lunch together on a regular basis, we have to be careful to not mention this to Margaret. We found this out the hard way.

One day I said something to her about a conversation her dad and I had during lunch. Her eyes got wide and she cried, "You had lunch with daddy but not with me?"

Whoops.

Then she asked, "Do you do that a lot?"

Yeah, I was all, "Not really, just when we have boring adult things to talk about." OK, I guess it is true that we do have boring adult things to talk about. And "not really" is a subjective amount of time, so it wasn't a bald-faced lie.

But considering the fact that we work so much, I feel that we should be able to eat lunch out when we want without having to feel the scrutiny of a 7-year-old kid — she disagrees, of course, but we've learned to expect nothing less.

Happy Birthday, Rog!

Today's my brother's birthday. He's old today.

So if you see this guy:
Wish him a happy birthday.

Photo project

From my "Across the table" photo series. Click here to see and read more this photo project.

The riot just got a whole lot more quiet

Bill yells to me while I was in the shower this morning: Oh no.

Me: *startled* What?

Bill: The lead singer for Quiet Riot was found dead in his Las Vegas home.

Me: Oh no.

Bill: Do you think we'll get the day off work?

R.I.P. leopard-spandex-wearing, Quiet Riot dude

Not feeling Monday

I totally felt for Mar this morning when she sat glumly in front of her waffle and cried, "Why did I have to get up so early, there's no school today?" But, alas, there is school today.

The four-day weekend lulled her into a blissful existence of sleeping in and tweaking all day on cough medicine and antibiotics.

I was right there with her, though, wishing for just one more day at home. I got up late Sunday then spent the rest of the day fitfully resting in our little futon room in front of the giant TV.

I'm sick and I can't ever seem to get enough rest. Broke down and worn out. But still I probably should have at least put some pants on. But really, pants aren't conducive to being recumbent. The crotch rises up and the legs get all twisted and bunched. Pant legs are stupid.

Bill bought a humidifier yesterday and I had him plant it in the middle of the tiny room I was holed up in (yeah, Bill had to do everything for me yesterday. I didn't get up for nothing. Panty girl had her panty-clad ass permanently attached to that futon). Just so you know, humidifiers are great. I didn't have to mine giant snot rocks out of my nose this morning (OK, I did kind of miss the giant fossilized boogers ... but who wouldn't?) and I didn't feel so much like a piece of beef jerky either.

So to recap:
Monday = bad
Humidity = good

Thrift and cute

More on why I'm thankful for Bill:

This morning, when he could have been sleeping in and lounging around in his pjs all day, Bill got up, dressed, got our kid up and dressed and is now out braving the crowds of bargain-hungry shoppers to get himself some post-Thanksgiving discounts.

The dude is thrifty. And that's awesome. Shopping with Bill is great. You've never seen a guy scour a clearance rack the way Bill does.

Plus he smiles like this all the time:
Just one more thing for which to be thankful.

The giving season

We had a very good Thanksgiving.

This is what I'm thankful for:

I'm thankful that even though I couldn't be with my family, I have wonderful friends with which to spend the holiday. I'm thankful that these group of great people treat my daughter with such love that she knows what it feels like to be with family.

I'm thankful for my loving husband who does so much to enrich my life without ever expecting anything in return and for the fact that he makes me laugh every day — even if I don't want to.

I'm thankful for having a job that I love even when I have to work on the day after Thanksgiving.

And I'm thankful for the Internets who provide me with so much daily fodder. And here, dear Internets, is a way to do something good while you wasting time: Here's an addicting vocabulary game — every time you get a word right, they donate rice to help end world hunger. And it's legit ... I checked it out on snopes.com.

The traditional green salad

Thanksgiving is tomorrow.

We're not making a turkey. We're making the green salad for our annual orphan's Thanksgiving that we attend.

Mm, green salad. You know how much everyone looks forward to green salad on Thanksgiving ... yeah, not at all. I mean, really have you ever heard anyone say, "Oh, I love having all that green salad on Thanksgiving"?

Yeah, because no one does. But we're making the green salad and it's going to kick ass with yummy cheese and pomegranates and other stuff. OK, it's not going to be the favorite dish. I can live with that.

We're also making the cranberry sauce. We're bringing two kinds. One made with fresh cranberries and one slid out of a can ... yeah, because Bill loves the tube o' cranberry gel that comes out of the can yet still looks like the can. He likes that.

And we're bringing the relish tray. Because what's Thanksgiving with out pickles and olives.

Yeah, it's like Thanksgiving without green salad.

What to do?

I drive a 2004 Chevy Trailblazer. I love it. It's roomy and comfortable. I can maneuver it and park it without too much trouble (except for today at lunch I had to adjust three times before I was adequately in the parking spot. Doh!)

We'd planned on keeping this car forever. But now I'm nervous. See the warranty is up, yet we still owe on it.

I don't like this. I don't like having a car that is getting older. I don't want to have to start "doing" things to or "getting work done" on a car. I just want to have a car that is going to get me wherever I wanna go every time I get in it.

Bill and I were talking today that maybe we should be leasing a car instead. Do you know anything about this? Had experience leasing a car? E-mail and give me your thoughts.

P.S. I love you, Internets.

Halle-freeken-lujah!

WOO-WHOOO!

For the last week and a half, Bill and I have been furiously painting and cleaning and arranging and generally trying to button things up around our house because we wanted to have it appraised.

We're not moving, we just want to do some refinancing crap. In order to get the best rate possible, we had to get this appraisal to come in at a certain amount. We just found out that the appraisal was for three grand more than that certain amount.

So, we're golden.

I'm exhaling now.

sweet.

Birthdays 'n' stuff

We celebrated Sean's 17th birthday over the weekend. I made a kick-ass, double-layer (I know, I'm fancy) cake. Mmm cake.

We got Sean some clothes that didn't fit, then we measured him on the wall which revealed why they didn't fit ... dude's 5'11-1/2" — 'the hell? He's a half-inch from 6 feet tall. Genetics are a funny thing, in that both his parents are not anywhere near 6 feet tall.

We also got him this cell phone:
Which is a lot like the Razrs that Bill and I have, but only more narrow and more cool and more better and I want one but there's nothing wrong with my phone except that it's not new and cool like Sean's.

Damn kids getting cool things for their birthdays.

OK, now for a smooth transition ...

Saturday night we finally made it out to see the Mesa State hockey team play.

Our friend, Rob, is the assistant coach, so we wanted to support him and watch some hockey. Bill and I both like hockey. Margaret liked hockey until the hot chocolate ran out and her cinnamon pretzel was gone, then she was the most bored she's ever been in her life ... according to her.

Mesa didn't win (that's my euphemism for "lost") but it's only their second season and they seemed to have some solid talent. They'll be in the thick of it soon enough, I'm sure.

And I should know ... because I said so.

More but this one has a great punchline

I posted again over here.

Because I wanted to. And I can.

So I did. Just click the link already.

Neck and neck

I posted over here. But I omitted the part about how I left the meeting early because I had to meet Tracee for our weekly Survivor dorks night.

What?

Yeah, well, I couldn't get a hold of her before the meeting and I couldn't just leave her hanging.

As it was, after running home, Margaret and I found Tracee lying on our newly painted porch floor coloring in a My Little Pony coloring book.

And then to top it all off, Tracee is now only one point behind me for the season ... dag nabbit ... and I was off to such a good start.

Isn't that sacrifice enough, people.

Something old

Now that the holidays are upon us, I've been thinking back about how my family spent the holidays while I was growing up. And it seems that quite often on Christmas, after we'd have opened our presents and visited with my grammas, we would go out to eat a late breakfast.

And, if my memory serves me correctly, we would often go to Dick's Restaurant and Bar. I haven't eaten at Dick's in probably 20 years (good gravy, when did I get old enough to be able to say something in my life happened 20 years ago?), but I still remember the vinyl banquettes and the thick haze of smoke.

Back when I was in grad school I remember seeing a Radiohead video and swearing it was filmed in Dick's Restaurant. Now, thanks to the powers of the Internets, I was able to confirm that Radiohead did indeed film their video for High and Dry at Dick's Restaurant in my hometown, San Leandro, California.



Huh, whodathunk it?

Part of the problem

I have have a plastic cup on my desk. I use it to drink water. I try to drink a lot of water from my plastic cup.

Lately, I've been bringing bottled water to work to drink and my plastic cup has been dry.

But not just any bottled water ... Fuji Water.

I love Fuji Water. It's my drink of choice these days. I guess you could say that I have a crush on Fuji water.

It's not called Fuji Water ... it's Fiji Water. That makes me like it better.

I have to buy Fiji Water in bottles. Bottles are evil. I tried holding my hands out and having them pour the Fiji Water into my hands so I didn't have to buy the evil bottles, but they said, "No."

Fiji is the best water ever.

The End.

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I posted a sad diatribe about my kid over here. She's awesome. I am not.