April has short arms

Hey college kids--you're pretty smart, can you at least TRY to keep yourself alive?

2012-02-16T19:48:00.000-08:00

I live in a college town. I love it. It's a community where higher education is valued. A community where there's lots of energy because there are so many 18-24 year olds. Speakers and performers come to town that normally wouldn't even stop to gas up their buses in our tiny area if the college wasn't here.

However, there are times when the students...oh the students. They kind of kill me. I've noticed that many seem to lack a self-preservation gene. I present to you the following examples:

1. This morning on three (three!) separate occasions students stepped right off the curb onto the crosswalk in front of my moving vehicle without so much as turning their head in the direction of on coming traffic. Nope, not even a break in their stride. (And yes, I am now singing "Ain't nothin' gonna to break my stride. Nobody's gonna slow me down, oh-no I got to keep on moving".) Come on people, every now and then help a driver out, heck, help yourself out, look up from the phone and toward the heavy machinery moving rapidly toward you!

2. Last night G and I were on campus, it was around 7:45 and, since it's February, it was about 30 degrees outside and snowing lightly. I'm wearing a coat and gloves, G has on her coat, hat and snowboots and we're chatting about how cold it is outside. As we're wandering around a lovely young lady walks past. And yes, I can say she was lovely because I got a very good look at her since she was only wearing a thin top, a skirt that hit her in the upper thigh area and no tights. For a brief moment, I thought, seriously? Is there a street corner where you'll be standing in a few minutes trying to earn a little tuition money? Then I remembered we don't live in that kind of town. Instead I realized she believes either her general hotness and/or righteous indignation will provide a protective heat layer until she arrives at her destination. Good luck with that!

3. While in a campus building the other day I saw a student who had sort of set up shop on the floor near an outlet, into which he had plugged his laptop. He's sitting on the floor, presenting the kind of sight you'd see in an airport perhaps. Back against the wall, laptop on his legs, backpack on one side, jacket and book on the floor on the other side along with a can of soda and a can of Pringles. Sure, fine dude-bro, if that works for you I'm cool with it. I see that he has taken a stack of Pringles out of the can (and why wouldn't he? They are delicious!) and is picking one off the top of the stack to eat. Only his "snack stack" as we'll call it, is DIRECTLY. ON. THE. FLOOR. I just threw up a little in my mouth typing that. You see the sacrifices I make for you, my precious 1.3 readers? Oh yes, the snack stack is on the same ground that gets walked on hundreds of times each day and maybe mopped with a dirty mop once a week. For a brief moment I contemplated walking toward his set up and then pretending to trip so I could squash the snack stack, thus grinding it into the layer of dirt, gum residue, and poo that is on any popular public floor but I figured I'd let nature take its course. Perhaps today he's at home throwing up thinking, "was it something I ate?" And yes, dude-bro. I'm pretty sure it was something you ate.

So, to summarize, (and sound like a grumpy old woman) look up before you cross the street! Put on a coat! Don't eat off the floor! To make it complete I guess I should add you kids get off my lawn!

Take care, more run on sentences and random tangents to come in a few days!
April

What, you're still here?

2012-02-14T20:00:00.000-08:00

Oh hey guys. I've been off climbing Mt. Everest. While running a marathon. After saving a child from a burning building. Er, ah...OK, you forced it out of me. I forgot my password. And then tried to reset it. And then forgot it again. What can I say? I have short arms.

What have you been up to? Me, I've just been hanging out. Living life. Keeping busy. Driving peeps to school, basketball, gymnastics, you know, the usual. Alright, alright, really I've been hauling people around to those things between watching Top Gear, Real Housewives of Anywhere, Southland (OMG people, such. a. good. show) and playing Diner Dash.

Anyway, hope you're all well! I'll be trying to chat it up again soon.
Hugs and kisses for Valentine's Day,
April

Someone needs to be the adult around here

2010-10-12T22:35:00.000-07:00

Here's the thing peeps. I am easily amused. Particularly in a 12 year old boy kind of way. It totally cracks me up when my kids say things that mean something different to adults than they do to kids. MD and I like to then repeat these statements for our own amusement. I present to you a few examples of late:

G realizing she forgot her silverware, "Oh my fork and knife!" Say it just a bit faster now... that's right, hee hee.

The other day, P talking about a kid on the bus and wondering about his bus stop. "Where does he get off?" Now say it like you're a member of Jersey Shore. Now say it like that to your child, "where do YOU get off?" Of course they don't get it and say something like, "You know, at the corner where you pick me up." Oh right, I remember, I'm an adult.

Today, while snipping apart grapes, "Mom, you've got a little cluster there." Oh G, if you only knew the number of little clusters going on in my life right now. Of course it only reminds me of Fantastic Mr. Fox referring to something as a "cluster cuss" instead of the real term, and then I'm doubly amused. Are you cussing me? Tee hee.

Grumpy time

2010-10-06T19:56:00.000-07:00

Oh "not me" I hate you. I'm not a fan of your friends "I didn't do it" and "I don't know" either.

So there.

Grumpy April is taking her short arms and going to bed now. Right after I clean up the hand soap that is covering the bathroom mirror.

30 minute meal? HA!

2010-09-21T11:23:00.000-07:00

Just once I'd like to see Rachael Ray (who I adore) have to cook one of her 30 minute meals while actually dealing with everything else that happens in people's homes just before dinnertime. You know, having to help with homework, unload the dishwasher so yet another dirty dish doesn't end up in the sink and negotiate a small, healthy snack since the ~~jackals~~ children can't possibly wait 30 minutes for dinner. She'd also need to put the cans from the beans/tomatoes/vegetables into the recycling container, wipe up the spot where the chicken dripped on the floor before someone steps in it (of course using bleach spray, which you have let sit for 2 minutes in order to kill the germs), realize that the person who is supposed to be doing homework is actually hiding in the bathroom and get them back on task all while not burning the onions she's trying to saute. Don't forget to set the table and pour milk and cut fruit and try to be attentive to another child who is attempting to tell you a story.

Even before those things take place she'd probably need to go to her pantry to make sure she set everything out that she'll need to cook dinner. At this point she might discover that she has only 1 Tablespoon of a critical ingredient when the recipe calls for 1/4 cup of it.

Not that any of those things happen at my house right before dinner. Oh no, certainly not. I'm just saying they might happen. You know at someone else's house. At my house the missing ingredient would smartly have the words "more in freezer" written on the lid. So I would confidently go to our freezer, pop the door open and proceed to spill a cookie sheet full of corn kernels all over the floor. (12 ears worth of corn kernels that had been blanched, cut off the cob and frozen on a tray, if you must know.)

Sorry Rachael, we had cold cereal instead.

First day of school

2010-08-25T19:18:00.000-07:00

Hey there! Today was the first day of school. Cute pics were taking of the children and they were sent off with shiny happy faces. G started first grade this year and I was curious as to how the whole full day plus after school care would go. When I picked them both up at 5 everyone was doing OK. (Yeah for small victories!) On the walk to the car G began to fall apart. I think she was holding herself together as best as she could all day and as soon as she knew the day was done the wheels fell off the wagon. Well, they actually were kind of hurled from the wagon.  After being fashioned into a spear of some kind. Metaphorically of course.

So, if you saw me in the parking lot today with my child standing outside the car screaming about wanting a drink of water RIGHT NOW you don't need to ask how my day went. BUT, if you did ask, I would say it was really not a bad day overall. Because while she was yelling and stomping and just plain being mad about being mad, I was sitting in the car. With the air conditioning on. Playing solitaire on my ipod.  I'm mean like that.

Once the storm clouds passed she calmed down, apologized and we went home. I sent her upstairs to shower, cooked dinner (breakfast for dinner!  A favorite around this house!) and my guess is we will both be asleep in about 15 minutes.

This is the kind that won't get scrapbooked because I like to keep the illusion of the smiling-faces-all-the-time going in my albums, but I wanted to write it down. To share it. And to say, in the face of yelling and stomping, I kept my cool. I didn't yell back. I didn't hiss at her with clenched teeth. I let her do what she needed to do, while I did what I needed to do. Not surprisingly, after her tantrum passed,  I felt much better than I usually do at the end of these exchanges. I guess everyone has the chance to learn something on the first day of school.

P.S. Not to short-change him in terms of blog fodder, P had a great, drama free day at school!

Confessions from the laundry room

2010-08-20T12:34:00.000-07:00

Nothing too earth shattering here. Although I'm beginning to notice that several of my posts have something to do with laundry and/or how much time I spend doing laundry due to a variety of circumstances (mostly) beyond my control. I guess we write about what we know...

Anyway, I was washing clothes last week and I noticed my daughter's shirt still had a sticker on it from her day care. When I pulled the sticker off I realized that it left a small circle of white, which in turn made me realize that the whole shirt was supposed to be white. She had gotten so dirty playing in the sand at the park that the rest of the shirt was gray. Sad face.

Luckily I sprayed the whole thing with my little container of stain remover and once it was washed we were back in business. But before I knew that all of the dirt would come out I was thinking, "Really? Come on. This is why we can't have nice things."

And then I looked over to the rest of the laundry where I noticed the sweatshirt I had bought for my son a week earlier at a garage sale. It's a great sweatshirt, hooded, with my college's logo on it--something that normally costs $35-40. I got it for $6 and I was super excited at the time. I usually don't buy the kids sweatshirts with school logos because they are so pricey, but I knew this one was a great bargain and could be worn by my daughter once my son outgrew it.

And then, standing in the laundry room, I realized the flaw in my thinking. Something I overlooked. The thing I should have noticed if I hadn't been in the middle of my "feeding frenzy" as MD calls it when I get super focused on a bargain and miss critical details about the item I'm about to purchase. (Side note--this same feeding frenzy once influenced me to buy another great sweatshirt for myself, only to get it home and realize it said "Grandma" underneath the college logo. In my defense, "Grandma" was in pretty small letters and I was carrying a lot of other things so I couldn't really hold the shirt up with both hands to see the entire front at one time. Lesson learned: It doesn't matter how much a person "saves" on an item when they have to give it to Goodwill after wearing it zero times.)

Anyway, sorry for the tangent--back to the laundry room. I realized that I had overlooked one critical piece of information when buying this great bargain of a sweatshirt. What was the problem you ask? The sweatshirt is white. White! Good Lord I just bought a white sweatshirt for a 10 year old boy! A boy who plays tackle football during recess. A boy who rolls around in the mud. A boy who probably invented a game called "who can get the most dirty in the least amount of time" with his buddies. And I honestly thought he would pass this sweatshirt down to his sister. You know, old gray shirt. The girl who quite literally pours sand out of her shoes before she comes in the house. Clearly, mistakes were made. I was obviously blinded by the bargain. Now, does anyone know where I can buy a case of Shout Advanced Stain Remover?

Camping. And germs.

2010-08-16T22:39:00.000-07:00

We went camping this past weekend. Well as close to camping as I care to get, we stayed in cabin type place in a state park. Mother Nature and I have a bit of an "agree to disagree" relationship. I try to stay out of her way and she helps make sure I'm not eaten by bears. (Side note, a couple of weeks ago we were on a nature hike, surrounded by tall trees in a totally gorgeous setting. Rather than simply marveling in the beauty and enjoying the moment, I actually caught myself pretending to stretch so I would look taller, just in case a mountain lion was behind me, thinking about attacking. It's totally a legitimate technique they teach when you're going into the woods, by the way. And yes, I know I need help.)

Anyway, the place we stayed had electricity but no running water. We had a camp fire and used it to cook all of our meals. We had s'mores, tried our hand at fishing and went canoeing. It really was quite lovely.

One drawback was the, ahem, facilities. There was an outhouse (shudder) nearby and further up the road there was a flush toilet. The general lack of running water was a bit of a nightmare for me the certified germaphobe. However, in my quest to not pass on my issues to my children I tried to roll with the punches. We had a water jug, I put some soap near it, encouraged the kids to wash--especially before eating, and hoped for the best.

On one of our walks to the flush toilet, we passed a golf ball in the parking lot. P wanted to pick it up and take it back to his dad. I said he didn't need to pick up parking lot leftovers and that I didn't think MD needed a random golf ball. P rolled his eyes and said, "If I got some tongs and washed off the tongs and the ball and my hands could I pick it up?" Hmmm. Busted.

I joked with him about then needing to sterilize the the parking lot and let it go. On the last day of our trip P slept in until 10. Not a good sign. This is a kid who is up at 7:30 everyday. Unlike his mother, this kid is a go getter, he is up and at 'em in the morning. The only time he sleeps in is when he's sick. I noticed he looked a little flush and when he declined bacon for breakfast I knew we were in trouble.

So we packed up, got him settled with some water, a pillow and a book in the car and started driving home. About 2 miles outside of the campgrounds I turned around to check on him, just in time to see him gag once, twice and then spew vomit all over the car. Not to be graphic, but I do mean ALL over. It was rather spectacular. On his sister's leg, all over the library books he had on his lap, on MD's seat, on the console, down his own legs. We pulled over, and both MD and I hopped out. MD grabbed a towel and started wiping things up, while I grabbed my stomach and tried not to add to the vomit situation. We realized that it was going to be quite a mess to deal with, so we headed back to the campsite so P could use the showers and change clothes. On the way back we tried to figure out what might have happened that could have made him sick--especially since he was the only one who was sick. Then MD said, "well, P was the only one touching the fish we caught, and I don't think he washed his hands afterwards."

Oh karma! How you like to bite people on the backside sometimes! I tried not to be too I-told-you-so when I pointed out that maybe hand washing isn't such a bad thing and perhaps you shouldn't mock your mother when she suggests it (over and over), but I don't think P heard me since I only said it in my head. Sometimes vomiting everywhere is enough of a lesson.

Oh hey, hi there

2010-08-07T22:29:00.001-07:00

So. Is anyone still here? Yeah, probably not. Clearly I stink at this whole blog thing--sorry friends! I was thinking about it today and I realized I'm a fan of instant gratification. I like to tell stories and get the immediate reaction of a laugh and then follow that up with a friend telling me another story. This is also why I think if I work out once I should suddenly lose 10 pounds. Rather than working out once a day for a month and maybe losing 3. (You know, because in my mind I CAN have that extra something something "since I worked out today.")

So here I go, trying to to update my bloggy again...back on the horse...trying not to go 4 months without adding anything...

As always happens this time of year, the swimsuits my children started out with back in June have frayed and thinned, the elastic is shot and it's shrunk a bit while the children have grown a bit. In response to this, I took G to the local big box store for a new suit. Two problems with this plan:

1. Despite the fact that it's August and 92 degrees outside, all of the big box stores think it's October. Seriously, they have Halloween decorations out. Stop the insanity! They are also fully engaged in their "back to school mode" so all of the summer things are now squeezed into one aisle. Boo. Finding the silver lining though--it is all on clearance now, and you know how I love a bargain!

The 2nd problem with my plan is that I'm not raising a tart. Or a tramp. Or Lady Gaga. I'm raising a girl. Someday she'll be a young lady. Right now she's 6. She likes Sid the Science Kid and Arthur books. I swear I'm not trying to sound like a Duggar here, really I'm not, but I was quite surprised by the ahem, style of many of the suits. Is there a fabric shortage I didn't know about?

There were about 20 different types of suits hanging on the wall. First I eliminated the ones that didn't have a back (it hooked at the neck then was an open oval down the sides of the body and then just barely covered the bottom). The ones that had a back, but had large cutouts on each side from the ribcage to the hipbone also stayed on the rack. Goodbye to the two piece numbers that hooked at the top and then just hung down, open, in the back, and so on. Finally we found 4 (only 4!) that might work and even some of these were just awful. One had glitter all over it. One had sequence forming triangles around her (non-existent) breasts (did I mention she's 6?). Two seemed like they might be a bit low cut, but off to the dressing room we went. Despite twice a day applications of SPF 50 my girl is quite tan, which means you can roughly see what the new suit covered compared to the old suit. Or should I say what the new suit didn't cover. With every suit I could easily see an extra inch of white on the top and most were also cut much higher up her thigh.

Is this what people are buying? Am I so very old fashioned? These are swimsuits sized for girls ages 4-12. What's left for her to wear when she's 16? But I knew her current suit wouldn't last. I had her try everything on again. It was even worse the second time around. Then, inspiration struck! I called my mom. Here's how it went:

Me: Hey mom, have you been to Costco lately?
Mom: I'm at Costco right now!
Me: Great! Could you see if they have any one piece Speedo swimsuits left? (As a side note, she currently has a two piece Speedo and part of the problem is that the bottoms keep scooting down, giving her a bit of a plumber's crack situation.)
Mom: Sure hang on. I just had a yummy sample of the mango salsa with tortilla chips and now I'm walking over to the suits.
Me: OK. (Thinking to myself, as I have many times, if my parents had a blog it would be all about what they just ate.)
Mom: They have two in her size, should I get both?
Me: Yes please!

And today my mom arrived with the suits. G tried them on and delight of delights, they matched up with her existing tan lines quite nicely. And they are covered in sweet, adorable pictures of watermelons and flowers and lemons. Very appropriate for the 6 year old crowd. Best of all, not a speck of glitter in sight.

A little fun...

2010-03-25T20:59:00.000-07:00

Friends! For the first time in 3 weeks I slept with my down comforter on Monday. It was lovely. It had been in purgatory in the basement while we dealt with our um, bug situation. I had missed it's delightful comfort more than I would have thought. Oh, sweet sweet down. So much warmer than a towel! If the down people are looking for a new marketing slogan, I probably should copyright that right now, otherwise you may be seeing that phrase in your next issue of O Magazine. "Down. So much warmer than a towel."

And now on to other matters. We have a room in our house that we call the "Christmas tree room." While it is the room where the Christmas tree is on display in December it is always called the Christmas tree room. It could be the middle of summer and I'll ask the kids to take something to the Christmas tree room. Right now the Christmas tree room is proudly displaying a few Easter decorations:

Cute huh? I know, I know, it needs some height, and a few more items, but I'm typically only willing to buy holiday decorations when they are on clearance, so maybe next year...

Let's take a minute and admire the adorable carrot wagon shall we? Sassy and purchased around Christmas time--hello discount!!

So I breezed by the Christmas tree room this afternoon, and then paused for a slightly closer look when I noticed this...

A few rebel soldiers from the ice planet Hoth. Why yes, I do live with a 10 year old boy. Why do you ask?

Evidently those Rebel soldiers were on to something--there's Lord Vader. Look out guys!!

And this guy...he looks like trouble. I'm not exactly sure who he is. 5 minutes into the latest and greatest description of the most recent episode of "Star Wars Clone Wars" my eyes begin to roll to the back of my head, I start to hear a faint buzzing noise and part of my brain oozes out of my ear.

This last one really cracked me up. Nothing says "Happy Easter" like a duck packing heat.

Just crying into my towel over here

2010-03-10T19:53:00.000-08:00

Totally left you all hanging there didn't I? So sorry. I had a big ol' post written in my head about how we met our frugal February goals (woo hoo!) and even some inspirational nonsense about how just sticking with something, seeing it through to the end was the real reward. And about I used my share of our FF savings to buy some crazy craft stuff my friend AC talked me into. (I think it was about a 30 second phone call, but do you see how I like to blame someone else for my purchases? It feels like it lets me off the hook.)

And I was ready to write all of those things. It was Monday, March 1. I was working from home on papers and since I wouldn't spend my day on the computer I was ready to spend my evening typing up my little posts. However, a fateful phone call changed all of that. And now, to protect the innocent (and because I'm not really sure how to use real pictures) I present to you a bit of Short Arm Theatre. (Spelled theatre because I'm fancy.)

Please enjoy the following (clip) artist rendering of the events...

Here I am on the phone earlier in the day...

Feeling a bit smug because thanks to my dialing quick fingers I had just won the following:

...to our local movie theater. And a gift certificate to a local restaurant. I was sure it was going to be a great day. I was wrong. Here I am 45 minutes later after another phone call...

And 25 minutes after that phone call at the local big box buying...

And 15 minutes later I picked up my precious bay-bee from school. We went home and I spent the next 2 1/2 hours doing this...

Combing and combing and combing. Quite literally with a very fine tooth comb. You could say I was...
nit-picking.

Oh yes. Somehow, over 9 years of daycare and public school my peeps had avoided the head lice. But that record was over. I thought I was going to die. I was totally grossed out. The school nurse was very nice, with lots of "it happens to everyone at some point" and more "it's really common and hard to avoid once someone else gets it" and an extra helping of "it's nothing to be embarrassed about." Still I was mortified. Needless to say my OCD kicked into high gear. After a bit more of this...

there was lots of this...

And when I realized exactly how many blankets and pillows and car seat covers and stuffed animals and bath towels and sheets and clothes and bath mats we have/use on a daily basis, I collected all of these...

(Wasn't it so handy that we just ended frugal February so I had a few "extras" laying around?)And I went here:

Where I proceeded to use 12 washing machines and 9 dryers and washed every single thing I could jam into a machine. I'd like to also let you know, at no time did I look this relaxed. Just as I was finishing getting the last load going, the first one finished. And just as I'd finish folding the load from one dryer another one would beep. It's been a loooooong time since I was in a laundry mat. Let me save you the suspense--they haven't changed much.

Everything that couldn't fit in the washer went in the basement. Like this...

I'm pleased to say after much checking and lots of vacuuming and lots of spraying and lots of hot water we are all clear. Thankfully no one else got them. (Knock on wood.) So please do forgive me for not writing for a few days. I was a smidge busy.

And finally, this last picture? Well this was what I used as a blanket and a pillow for the first 3 nights of this adventure.

The one where April makes excuses

2010-02-18T20:58:00.000-08:00

Well. It's official. Frugal February blows.

It's been a few days since I posted because I wasn't really prepared to admit the truth. The frugal wagon and I have separated. You could say I fell off it. Payday was a couple of days ago and my plan what to transfer the full amount of one check to our savings account. But we had friends over for Valentine's Day brunch (and I felt obligated to buy tasty treats and few decorations). We also had a bill I wasn't expecting (what??) for our CSA (Community Sponsored Agriculture)--essentially we needed to pay for all of the vegetables we'll get from May-October this month. I didn't think they would take too kindly to me calling them up and saying, "hey guys, I'd love to pay the bill right now, but I'm in the middle of this crazy experiment, so can I wait until March?" And I like to pay extra on our mortgage. Again, I'm not going to skip paying extra on the mortgage just so I can fulfill the terms of an experiment I've set up for myself. (Did you like how I justified my choices right there?) And it was Tuesday. No seriously, Tuesdays kill me. I get in the car at 2:45 and proceed to spend the next 3 hours shuffling the kids around town to various activities. By the time I pick G up at 5:25 I'm done. If I don't have something in the crock pot it is very hard to resist the siren call of pizza. And from my last post, you know getting something in the crock pot sometimes means tardy slips for the peeps.

So, I'm resolving to keep trying. A small amount of glory is better than no glory, right? I have resisted many things. I keep reminding myself that the things I want are big ticket items (a new car, a laptop, a Kindle) which will require giving up lots of small ticket items. I also keep reminding myself that the things I want are only "wants." Not needs. We're good. We've got a roof over our heads, food in the pantry, jobs to go to and our health (knock on wood) and I'm grateful for that.

The month is halfway over and there's still time...

Day 7 update

2010-02-07T21:49:00.000-08:00

Frugal February is going fairly well so far. Today was the real challenge. We went to my version of the happiest place on earth. My mecca. My little spot of sunshine. Costco. Oh Costco, how I love you. I mean really, what's not to love? Delightful prices, great options and lovely social policy. Plus free samples! (Side bar, what is up with those samples? I do wonder about them sometimes. Are there honestly people who don't think a Milano cookie is delicious? Or tortilla chips? Or chocolate covered almonds? Do these items require a free sample to convince people to buy them? Really?)

The biggest negative in Costco's corner is that I love their products too much. It's gotten to the point where I just automatically allow myself one impulse item, knowing that there will be an impulse purchase regardless. This is where I knew Frugal February would met its match. Costco vs frugality. Who would win this showdown?

Call me a coward, but I didn't want to find out. So I went to lunch with a friend and sent MD. The only items purchased were those on the list! So impressive! Someday I hope to be this strong. I'm working on it, I swear. For now, avoidance seems to be the best (and most frugal) policy.

Another excuse for being late!

2010-02-02T21:11:00.000-08:00

Do you know the Seinfeld episode where they keep saying "these pretzels are making me thirsty?" Well, in the same tone say "this frugality is making me tardy."

This morning I was made aware that there really weren't enough leftovers from dinner last night to make 2 lunches for today, let alone enough for tomorrow (I was at PTA so MD cleaned up and put the small amount of leftover chicken in a container for one lunch). I remembered that I had planned breakfast for dinner tonight (a favorite around the short arms house) but breakfast for dinner doesn't give you any leftovers for lunch the next day. So my first thought was, "I'll just swing by the grocery store, pick up some turkey and some rolls and we can have sandwiches for lunch tomorrow." My second thought, "Really? You can't go one day without buying something?" Then I remembered I had a crock pot recipe that called for frozen chicken and BOOM, problem solved!

Not so fast. I don't usually (ever) allow much spare time in the morning. AND I hadn't set anything out the night before. Cut to me trying to find the cans of beans in the pantry, splashing myself with chicken broth because I'm trying to pour it too fast and realizing I only have one cup of salsa instead of the two the recipe calls for. (Believe you me, I was thinking of another word that goes along with Frugal February.) But I persevered. Everything was in the crock pot, ready to go, I quickly packed myself a lunch and then looked at the clock. Hmmm, suddenly I had two minutes to make the seven minute drive to school.

So, the peeps were a bit tardy, but dinner was tasty and they will also be delicious for lunch tomorrow.

Since we're all being honest here I did spend one dollar today (on a package of M & M's from the stupid vending machine). I wanted the 90 cent package of cookies so I could have 1/2 today and 1/2 tomorrow. However, when I (repeatedly and aggressively) pressed its number I kept getting the "make another selection" message. Then when I pressed "coin return" it wouldn't give me my money back. Then the nice person behind me offered to push the button and it didn't work for her either. So her friend offered to push the button, no dice. I contemplated asking them to just give me a dollar and they could use mine which was already in the machine, but I try to avoid being looked at like the crazy lady at the vending machine. Hence the M & M's. Next time I'll just have a piece of gum.

February is Frugality Month!

2010-02-01T20:27:00.001-08:00

Back in January, after the bills had been paid from Christmas gifts and all of the holiday fun, I started thinking about February. And how it might be time to buckle down on a few things. Every now and then I like to set a challenge for myself, plus I'm a big fan of alliteration, therefore I have declared February to be frugality month. Frugal February.

This month I have decided we will live on just one income, just to see if we could make it. Thankfully, this isn't a necessity. So far both MD and I have managed to survive the numerous layoffs that have occurred at the company we work for (knock on wood). However, it has been stated that another 13 million dollars in cuts will most likely need to be made this year, and we all know you don't cut 13 million by just eliminating pens and copy paper. So I thought it would be good to see if we could survive on less. We've done this before. Years ago, before I got pregnant we did the same thing, just in case I decided I wanted to stay home with the baby we (I) needed to know if we could pull it off. It worked out OK. Not great, just OK. Even for a cheapo like me, sometimes it was a bit too much. The fact that I knew we could do it was comforting though. I've always liked working for pay so I returned to my job although I've now worked half time, 75% time, full time and 80% time trying to find the right balance. I also don't want to turn this into a post about working at home vs. working for pay (I would be the first to tell you working at home as a "stay" {ha ha} at home mom is HARD, HARD, HARD work).

I digress. Back to the challenge. I decided we would start the month with whatever money was "left over" in the checking account. Side note--I love that idea--"left over" money. HA! It reminds me of the days in college when people would ask you if you had "any extra beer" like the case suddenly came with 25 or 26 instead of 24. Not that I was drinking a case of beer, or with people who were doing such a thing mind you, this was only an example...

ANYWAY, I figured the "left over" money would be enough to make it to payday on the 10th. Piece of cake. Most of our bills are due after payday and I really couldn't see any surprise expenses in the next couple of weeks. Only January was kind of expensive. Insurance was due. We also typically pay the full year of our shared cell phone in January. We had a date night at a fancy restaurant. A deposit on Boy Scout camp in the summer was required. After making our usual transfers to the savings account and minus a donation to the Red Cross, it appears that our "left over" funds total...gulp, $42.40.

And so we begin. I'll let you know how it goes.

Half full? Or half hairy?

2010-01-28T09:31:00.000-08:00

So. Peeps. I was in the shower this morning and thought to myself, "Self, you actually got up early enough to shave those legs and since it's been a day or two (or 4-zip it--it's winter here!) you should do that." So, I squirted the shave gel on one leg, shaved it and then realized that I was entirely. Out. Of. Shave. Gel. None hiding in the closet. None in the travel bag. Even MD's wasn't available because he has started to shave in the other bathroom because I complain it takes him too long and I need to get in the shower and now I'm going to be late. (Yeah right, like it's his fault I'm running late.)

But back to my troubles. Essentially I'm walking around with one stubbly leg and one smooth leg now. And I have to tell you, it's a bit unsettling.

But it made me think of the old saying about the glass being half full or half empty. I think I'm going to try to change that saying to. The new check to see if you're an optimist or a pessimist is: "Are you one leg shaved or one leg hairy?" Oh, yeah, that's got a super catchy ring to it! I'm sure it's going to be sweeping the nation any day now. And you can point to this blog and know where it all started.

Slow cooking update...

2010-01-07T20:28:00.000-08:00

I made the Salsa Chicken with Black Beans soup. I should have used canned beans or cooked it on high the entire time because my dried beans didn't get quite soft enough in time for dinner. (Dudes, we've got some seriously hard water here in P-town and it's impacting my beans!) Even with slightly crunchy beans it was delicious. The very best part was the fact that I used uncooked and completely frozen chicken breasts--take that lack of meal planning! The second best part was me trying to convince P that the "green stuff" in the soup *might* be celery, despite the name of the soup being "Salsa Chicken". Hee hee.

Another friend I showed the site to made the Pot Roast with Cranberry Sauce last night. Her report back was "incredibly easy and delicious." I'm looking for other suggestions of winners if anyone tries anything else!

Cooking

2010-01-06T12:07:00.001-08:00

Is it just me or does cumin smell like a construction worker's sweaty armpit? I'm trying a new recipe today, from a blog I've recently become obsessed with (it's actually a blog from two years ago--yet again proving my T-Rex like prowess when it comes to this thing we call the internets). I'm sure that the cumin will add that "certain something" to it but it totally grossed me out when I sprinkled it in.

I'll be sure to let you all know how it tastes. And the blog, it's here: crockpot365.blogspot.com. The author took on the challenge to make something in her crockpot every day for a year. Every day, man. Every day. And many of her recipes have been put into a book called "Make it Fast, Cook it Slow." Perhaps all of my 3.5 readers will find something in her recipes that tickles your fancy as well. Enjoy!

Winter musings

2010-01-05T22:25:00.001-08:00

I love winter. I really do. I love the sweaters and vests you can wear to hide an extra Christmas cookie (or twelve). I love the way the house seems like there's a giant muffler on it when the snow comes down, quieting all of the outside noises. I love the look of the flakes falling. I love the idea of going sledding. I love to bundle up with a good book and stay at home, out of the cold. I love the possibility of a snow day. But, if we're really being honest here, I only love it for a brief period of time. Like 20 minutes or so. Then I'm pretty much done with it. It was snowy over break, but it's melted now and I couldn't be happier.

However the snow got me thinking. I was trying to decide: is snowy weather the bane of every mother's morning or is summer weather? Winter with the snow pants and the boots and the hats and the gloves (which are always getting lost) and the potential to lose a finger or toe if you stay out too long. Or summer, with the packing of lunches that can stay cool for hours while at camp and the applying of sunscreen, and the bags packed with a swimsuit and a towel and swim goggles and another bag inside your bag to keep your stuff dry on swim days (don't forget if you have a kid with slightly long hair you'll also need some conditioner and maybe a pick or brush). Plus the potential to have your kid get skin cancer years and years from now, and know that it was (maybe) because you got a little lazy with the sunscreen one day. I'm exhausted just writing out the lists! Is it just me? Is it because I work outside the home? Is it because I still have fairly young kids? Is it because I would rather sleep-in for an extra five (OK, 35) minutes rather than do anything else? I'm not sure, but I'm thinking I am really starting to love fall. And spring. Spring is nice too.

I wonder...

2009-12-30T14:33:00.000-08:00

I wonder if one of my New Year's resolutions to think about this blog more will happen.

I wonder if thinking and then actually writing on my blog will occur.

I wonder if our computer is fixed. (You see, this time I have had an actual, legitimate excuse for not writing!)

I wonder if you knew that 6 years and one day ago (see above for the reason I didn't write this yesterday) I was in labor. It was not an enjoyable experience. As I thought back about it yesterday, I remembered the sweating, the crying, the machine pumping out the epidural medication breaking. Twice. I also remembered the large number of things hooked and taped to various parts of my body.

Side note, oh medical tape--I wonder why hasn't someone invented medical tape that works like a post- it. Stays on when you need it, comes of nicely when you don't, rather than ripping all of your hair off your body. I came for a baby, not a wax!

Anyway, I also wonder if my hands shoving as hard as they could on my stomach in a desperate attempt to push G out from the outside as well as the inside actually helped. Or, was I just trying to force her to follow my timeline? Making her do something this instant when if I had given her another moment or two she would have done it on her own? You all know where this is going. I have a stuborn child. She was (and is) worth every second of pain. I'm finding, however, that if I am calm, she is calm. When I push, she pushes back. So this year my other New Year's Resolution is to chose patience. Patience instead of hustling. Patience instead of yelling. Patience instead of talking through clenched teeth. Patience. I wonder if it will work.

What's in there??

2009-12-04T22:52:00.000-08:00

So. Many things happened over Thanksgiving, some that were lots of fun, some that do not belong out here in the internets, some that make me sad so I cover them up with sarcasm and some pretty random. But I feel I must tell you about a little adventure we had just before Thanksgiving. Since we were hosting and housing several folks we wanted to make sure the house was tidy-rific for all our guests. Now I love my house and I want it to always be tidy. However, the sloth in me usually wins when tidy and resting are competing for my attention. But it was time for turning over a new leaf (i.e. COMPANY IS COMING IT'S TIME TO PANIC!!). Our old vacuum had gone to farm where it could run and chase rabbits and be happy(not really, but you know what I mean) so I headed out to our local big box store for a new one. As I reviewed my options I decided I didn't want to deal with any more vacuum bags since we have what seems like hundreds of them floating around in our garage so I bought a bagless vacuum. With a clear cover on the little thing that collects everything your vacuum sucks up. Um. Hello. Did I mention sloth? Also, my little town is super dusty. Also, we live across the street from a field, made up primarily of garbanzo beans, wheat and dust. Clearly this was a mistake.

Now, I may be dating myself and some of my fair readers here, but does anyone remember Biore strips?? They were those little band aid sized strips you would moisten, put on your nose and then peel off once they dried. The purpose of the Biore strip was to clear your pores and remove blackheads, but really, who are we kidding? The biggest part of the Biore strip adventure was doing it with friends and then grossing each other out by looking at everyone's nasty, blackheady results. Let's just say my bagless vacuum experience was like a giant Biore strip. Ack! Oh the humanity! I actually sat on that carpet! My children on occasion slept on that carpet! And wow-there was a lot to see in that clear section! I had to clean the suction part three times! It was too much! Yet oddly satisfying. In a creepy sense. I know. I need help. I'm also just ever-so-slightly tempted to wait (and wait and wait) before vacuuming again so I can have the same satisfying experience. At least that's the excuse my sloth side is going with at the moment.

Gobble gobble

2009-11-30T16:24:00.000-08:00

Hello hello! I wonder when I will be able to post without feeling the need to greet you (all 3.2 readers of mine). Clearly, it's not today--so hello!

Just hanging out at home, waiting for P to finish his homework, listening to Christmas carols and trying to decide what to make with the leftovers from any of the 4 (!) turkeys we've cooked and frozen in 2 cup servings over the last month. OK, so the first one was because I'm retentive and had to practice cooking a turkey before we hosted Thanksgiving. And the second one was because I didn't really like the first recipe after all. The third was for the real Thanksgiving and the fourth was because, well, turkeys were on sale and I can't resist a sale. Oh how I do love a bargain! And turkeys are cheap this time of year!

Although, I just did some rough math in my head (which is tricky for me, just ask the 15 people who came to my house for Thanksgiving and found only 13 chairs. Whoops! Even with all 15 people in front of me I kept coming up with only 13. But enough about that...) Anywho, I did some rough math and even if the turkey was $.26/lb I'm not totally sure it was a bargain by the time I add in the price of the brine (salt, honey and vegetable broth) and/or the cost of the fresh rosemary and sage that was put in the turkey and/or the price of the gas to run the oven for 3 1/2 hours. Almost forgot to add the cost of the heat when I had to open all the windows and doors (letting the toasty 36 degree F wind blow through the house) to clear the smoke out during the first 30 minutes of searing the skin. I think since those heating costs get put in a different category in my budget we'll just leave that out... Sort of reminds me when MD suggested we could save a ton of money on our grocery bill if we just ate out more. Ha!

Off to check on the homework--have a great day everyone!

Update--had to share before I explode!

2009-11-28T20:35:00.000-08:00

Number of grandparents at our house: 3
Number of nights they stayed: 4
Number of times they left to go to shopping, to a sporting event or to a bar: 7
Number of times I heard the phrase “No, no, we’ll stay here with the kids—you and MD go out and have fun: 0

Good news/bad news

2009-10-18T20:54:00.001-07:00

Bad news: Unfortunately, the vomiting began on Thursday.
Good news: It happened while MD was still at home with P so he got to clean it up!

Bad news: We had a couple of really bad freezes last week which destroyed a bunch of fruits and vegetables at our CSA (Community Sponsored Agriculture) program, and at other places where we get fresh fruits and veggies.
Good news: The apple orchard needed people to come and get the fruit off the trees (it's fine to eat, but won't last in long term storage) so they let us pick it for free!

Good news: G is quite a good little apple picker.
Bad news: I had almost 50 pounds of apples to deal with TODAY!

Good news: We roasted potatoes and garlic for dinner tonight (they were so, so good!) and figured, since we were roasting the garlic, why not roast all 15 heads we had from the CSA.
Second good news: we now have 93 (oh yes, you know I counted each and every one) roasted cloves of garlic freezing which will be so yummy and handy to use later this fall.
Bad news: I'm not sure my hands will ever smell normal again.

Good news: I got to sleep in today! The four of us went for a walk around campus yesterday, collecting leaves for G's class--it was tender to see P helping G collect them. I got new clothes yesterday! I watched The Proposal with two friends yesterday--fun movie and it was wonderful chatting with them!
Bad news: can't really think of anything for the moment! (Superstitiously knocking on wood right now.)

How are you guys? Is your world seen as good news/bad news? Is the glass half empty or half full? Taking it day by day? Or saying "Bring it!!"? Hope everyone is great!

2009-10-14T20:50:00.000-07:00

Well, well, well, posting two days in a row--don't worry I won't let it go to my head! Here's what's happening at our place:

Tonight I picked P up for flag football and noticed he was looking a little tired. We got to the van and I offered him a snack, which he refused. Hello spidey-senses, commence tingling now! On the way to practice I said, you seem a little tired, are you feeling OK? A sad "no" was the answer. In classic mom fashion, I pulled out the big guns, the sure-fire way to know if this is a ploy for sympathy or the real thing, "Well, maybe you shouldn't go to football tonight...should I take you home so you can rest instead?" His reply, "I am pretty tired, could you take me home?" Gulp. Totally not the answer I was expecting! This is not a test, I repeat, this is not a test!

So we went home where he fell asleep and all of the errands I had planned to take care of while he was at practice will just wait another day. Three hours later, and he's upstairs still resting quietly. If he starts throwing up, I'm really going to regret the tomato soup I gave him for dinner.

G got a piggy bank over the weekend. It's ceramic, and a lovely shade of blue. Not as lovely as the purple one she picked out first. The last purple one in the store. Did I mention it's ceramic? And the floors of the store are really, really hard? Can you all see where this is going? Oh yes, as she was carefully putting it into the bag it slipped. And crashed. For a brief moment everything in the store went silent. Then the crying began. Finally (and yes I just edited about 10 minutes of crying from this story--hey, it's my story write your own if you want the full details) she pulled herself together and picked a new one. She named it Martha Stewart, despite my suggestion of "Money Penny." Tonight she asked me the following question: "Mom, why is it that I only have coins and no cash?" I suggested she talk with her dad about that, because he seems to have the same complaint.

Finally, I had to tell G that she is not allowed to kiss anyone at school. Boy or girl. Her reply to the new rule, "but I LOVE him sooooo much!!" Pay no attention to the fact that she's 5. Oh my praying friends, say one for me--I'm going to need it!

Obsess much?

2009-10-13T21:58:00.001-07:00

OMG peeps--it's been so long! Did you think I feel into a giant Twilight coma? A giant Twilight canyon? A giant Twilight black hole? Well, sort of. I have to be honest here--I've been reading these re-donkulous books too much of late. And quite frankly, it's been making me do a lot of thinking--no, not about Bella and Edward and Jacob. More so about my obsessive nature. Back in the day (I refer to it as my "former life") I had a job that I loved. It was not just a job, it was almost my entire identity. It was what I did during the day and talked about at night. There were times I actually felt embarrassed because they were paying me, rather than me paying them!

Then I got a new boss. And while I still loved my job it was maybe only for 2 hours a day--and I hated it the rest of the time. This boss slowly killed the joy I felt. I became super stressed. I became bitter. I pushed that bitterness onto everyone in my workplace. I was a boss of others, and I killed their joy. MD and I created an account at the bank called the “F@#K You Man” account so someday I could shout that and walk out. I would stare at meeting agendas and think to myself I could just write “I quit” on the top and be done with this. Do you have a full sense of my sad, angry, unpleasant self at the time?

But I wasn’t always like this. You see for a little while each day I was happy, because I was obsessed with a popular TV show. I would go home at lunch, watch the recording and feel like that gave me enough surrogate happiness to survive the next 5 hours at work. Then, after dinner I would watch two more episodes which allowed me to actually sleep rather than replay the day’s events over and over, and get more upset about them as the night ticked away. Oh I loved that show. I could quote 95% of the episodes, I cried over relationships that ended on the show, I’d get worried at certain spots (despite knowing how it was going to end). Simply put, I was crazy. I was obsessed. And that’s how I feel about these Twilight books right now. I feel like I’m reading them to escape something, but I can’t figure out what I need to be away from. I’m happy. I like my job. I love my kids. I love MD. I have fun friends, some who are (thankfully) close and others who may be far away but feel like they’re still close. I even love where I live. So what’s the problem? I just don’t know, but I find myself at the end of the day focusing inward, reading a book rather than reaching out or updating my blog thingy. So for now, I’m going to try to find a better balance. I’ll let you know how it goes!

P.S. There seem to be a lot of “I” statements in this post, sorry about that. Obsess much? Obsess much about myself? I think so!

What is wrong with me?? Part Two

2009-08-17T01:45:00.000-07:00

Well, that didn't work well at all. I really need more will power.

Just caught myself browsing the Costco online book store--in the juvenile section. Oh the humanity! No judging, you hear me?!

If you happen to see me tomorrow (gulp, today) please remind me that I'm not 13, that I have to work for a living, that Robert Pattenson is really not Edward--not to mention that while he IS dreamy, Edward still is a vampire-not really the kind of guy you want to bring home to mother if you get my drift. Oh, and please nudge me if you catch me sleeping at my desk.

You're all really just too kind!

What is wrong with me??

2009-08-17T00:03:00.000-07:00

Must. Resist. Urge. To watch Twilight again. For the 9th time this weekend. I only wish I was kidding.

When I was watching it last night for the first time while MD and P were at a baseball game I had to set a timer so I wouldn't forget that G. was in the shower.

Oh crap, too late...

Really?

2009-08-13T15:44:00.000-07:00

While I was in my hometown for my high school reunion we stayed at my parents' house. Saturday afternoon before the big festivities I decided I needed some, ahem, foundation items to help "lock and load" everything in my dress, so my mom and I hustled off to Macy's. Naturally this took longer than expected, so I was running late (big surprise). As soon as I got back home I zipped into the guest bedroom to grab my dress from the closet. Mentally I was already three steps beyond getting my dress and in a very distracted way I whipped open the half-closed door to find my father sitting in the closet playing his hand-held Yahtzee game. Yes, you read that correctly. My 68 year old father was sitting in the closet playing Yahtzee.

I gasped and said, "um, I came to get my dress???" Dad told me MD had taken it downstairs already and then he started pull the door closed a bit. Now wait just a minute. At this point several things were racing through my mind--

You just scared the dickens out of me.
WHAT on earth are you doing??
Has the Alzheimer's set in??--I always thought we'd have more time...
Has mom banned you from playing your travel Yahtzee game when you're at home??
You have clearly lost your ever loving mind.
WTF??
Really?

I took in the scene and managed to cough out something like "what are you doing?" And then in the span of those 5 seconds he went from crazy to brilliant... "I'm playing hide and seek with G." Well played, well played indeed.

Now in a normal person's world this would be the end of the story. But such is not the case in my world. Because I then went downstairs to find my 5 year old, the seeker in this game of hide and seek sitting on the couch watching TV with her brother. As soon as I said, "Aren't you supposed to be playing hide and seek with grandpa?" She clapped her hands together, said "Oh yeah!" and jumped off the couch to continue the game.

I think if I hadn't intervened they might still be playing--with one in the closet upstairs and one on the couch downstairs.

20 Years

2009-08-10T21:20:00.000-07:00

So, after much debating, harrumphing, and deliberating, I finally decided to attend my 20 year high school reunion. It was quite a process, and as a favorite cartoon character of mine recently stated (Satchel from “Get Fuzzy”) the whole thing made me a little “growly in my bowely.” It was as though 20 years hadn’t passed as I started to see Facebook comments about “having dinner with Jim” and “pre-funking at Mike’s house” I was thinking, “Why wasn’t I invited? Don’t they like me?” then I remembered, “Oh yeah, I don’t think I could pick these people out of a line up—which is probably why I’m not at their house.” I did find myself calling people a lot as I got closer to the event site-asking advice about what to wear, finding out who was already there, making sure I had someone to walk in with, and asking friends to save me a seat. Seriously, how much teenage angst can a 38 year old handle??

In all honesty, I think I planned things very well. The Friday night event started at 7, but since I didn’t want to pay $40 per person for beer I wouldn’t drink and food I’d be too nervous to eat, MD and I showed up at 9:45. Arriving this late had several plusses: the check-in table was closed (surprise, surprise the beer was completely gone by 9), people were all pretty sauced at this point, and everyone had their “executive summaries” of their lives all set, so the awkward pauses were almost non-existent. It was a win-win indeed.

There was something endearing about being with the people I grew up with, grew away from, and have since reconnected (minimally) with via FB, but really haven’t talked to in 15 years. I loved the moment when one of the guys a friend of mine dated back in the day admitted, “I wasn’t very mature about relationships back then.” Well, if it makes you feel better, Josh, I don’t think us driving by your house 50 times a night was very mature either, so let’s call it even. There was also a moment when I said to another guy while waving to his wife, “So how did you…” and before I could finish he said “…how did I get so lucky?” Oh man, those 20 years have served some of us very well.

Naturally there were highlights and lowlights, some were a combination of both—I’ll let you decide:

ð At some point I found myself dabbing Bath and Bodyworks’ “Sweet Pea” antibacterial gel on my wrists since I forgot to pack perfume.

ð For the first time in my life I closed a bar. Seriously. The waiter came over and said “last call” and I thought to myself “I’ve seen this on TV shows and in movies—who knew they really did that??” (Let me take a quick moment and answer that rhetorical question—everyone. Everyone else in the free world knows that waiters and bartenders really do that sort of thing.) Fifteen minutes later the bouncer came over and said, “we’re shutting this thing down” and I got a little giddy.

ð I had so much fun closing the bar Friday night, we did it again Saturday night. Evidently I’m making up for lost time.

ð Someone said I looked hot. (They were drunk, but hey, a compliment is a compliment. They also grabbed my ass later in the evening at which point I said, “OK, we’re all done here” and walked away.)

ð MD received several compliments—we all know if it was his 20 year reunion I would have either been complaining about being left in the hotel room with the kids or I would have had a sour puss face on all night while people I didn’t know reminisced with my husband telling stories about other people I didn’t know. Instead he socialized with friends he knew, chatted with the other spouses, kept me supplied with fresh waters brought cake from the buffet line to everyone at our table, and even stood in as “eye candy” for another friend whose husband was home with the kids.

ð My parents watched P & G—both nights. With very little complaining. As we were leaving on Friday night (at 9:30 PM) they were serving them ice cream sandwiches—not sure how that turned out, maybe the kids fell asleep moments before we hauled ourselves home at 2:30 in the morning.

ð Another person at the reunion was taking orders for the bar, I asked for water, the person next to me asked for water and we both looked at each other after she left and said, I don’t think we’re actually going to get waters. Well what do you know? The person came back with a horrible concoction and said, “quit your complaining we’re drinking this!” I took a sip and felt the delicate tissues in my throat instantly dissolve. We all wanted to know what it was, but she said we had to drink it first. (What are we in high school?) I took another sip, and noticed my drink benefactor was looking the other way so I tossed most of it over my shoulder and onto the grass. She seemed please to notice the bulk of my drink was gone, and everyone else had dutifully drank theirs so she told us what she had bought. It was a magical, delightful combo of Rock Star and a shot of tequila. Yes friends you read that correctly—Rock Star energy drink and our old pal tequila. Because what I want at 1:30 in the morning is to be drunk AND wide awake. Of course my other friends busted me for pouring out the drink, I got hassled, “that was $40 worth of shots” and I felt I had to reply, “yeah, but I asked for water.” Why do people do that? Let’s be clear—I’m happy to be around people who are drinking, I just don’t like the taste and I really don’t like how I feel after drinking, so I choose not to. Me not drinking is in no way a judgment or reflection on someone else’s decision to drink. However, others seem think if you’re not drinking either A. you’re not having any fun or B. they need to pressure you into drinking. It’s a mystery, and even after 17 years (Oh, OK, 23 years) of being around peers who drink I still haven’t figured it out.

So there you have it folks. I’m sure there are other things I have already mind-bleached away, but you can consider yourselves all caught up for a bit.

Take care,
April

Snick snacks

2009-07-24T16:11:00.000-07:00

I’ve often joked that if my parents were to have a blog it would be all about food. What they had for lunch, who shared a steak dinner with them, the salad at the culinary school they live near, the dessert platter my dad started dinner with, the way they ate steak leftovers for lunch…and as I was thinking about what I would write about today my topics had a great deal to do with food. So, I’ll just admit that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree (see, even my idioms are food related) and press on…

While I was visiting my sister we went blueberry picking. I don’t think I can accurately describe how delightful it was. Quite frankly if you had told me 10 years ago that I would be super excited about standing in a field, picking berries, knowing that they hadn’t been sprayed which meant the kids could eat them right off the bush, I would have thought you were crazy. Yet there I was, picking the largest, most delicious blueberries I’ve ever seen, with a ridiculous grin on my face and exclaiming the whole time, “I can’t believe how great this is!” (Disclaimer—I am well aware it was enjoyable because I wasn’t trying to support my family with my pickings, and I knew I could quit at any time.) The weather was lovely, the kids were bribed with a piece of gum for every pint container they filled, and each berry seemed juicier than the last. I can’t believe the satisfaction I had eating something I had brought from the bush to my home to my plate. Every time I offered the berries as a snack I practically shouted (OK, I probably did shout a few times) “Would you like some blueberries, THAT I PICKED WITH MY VERY OWN HANDS?!”

Then we went to my sister’s house and had some delicious cherry jam. Jam, that she canned herself. Hold on a minute. My sister is way more Martha Stewart-esqe than I, but really—canning? Canning always struck me as a huge mystery. Something only grandmothers knew how to do. And here she was, with her Ball jars and cherry jam. Well, you don’t have to be a math wizard to put 2 plus 2 together. After my first slice of jam soaked bread I was figuring out a way to talk her into making jam with blueberries—blueberries I PICKED WITH MY VERY OWN HANDS! Thankfully it didn’t take much convincing.

Now, let’s say you’ve got some blueberry jam (homemade or otherwise) and you’re wondering what to put it on. Might I suggest you check out this book: Artisan Bread in Five Minutes a Day http://www.artisanbreadinfive.com/. It has changed my life. Well, I might exaggerate a bit, but it has changed my kitchen. This is seriously good bread peeps. And once you get the hang of it, it is really fast. They aren’t kidding about the no kneading part either—I don’t even bother with getting out my fancy Kitchen Aid mixer with dough hook attachment (too heavy). Nope, a wooden spoon is all I use. This weekend I whipped up a batch just before lunch. It was ready at dinner, we rolled it out, slapped it on the grill and made pizzas. Pizza topped with tomatoes and basil from the organic farm--good grief, what a hippie I sound like. I feel I must tell you (and I have no shame in telling you) that P’s pizza had pepperoni, salami and Canadian bacon on it—we’re not that much of a hippie household here! It was so, so good.

And finally check it out:

Teeth

2009-07-15T15:58:00.000-07:00

I was sharing pictures with my boss last Wednesday and we came across one with G and her first missing tooth. (She lost it on July 1—and, acknowledging how far behind I am in my scrapbooking, I made her hold a piece of paper with the date on it in one of the pictures, so when I get around to putting it in an album I’ll look like I’m on top of things since I’ll know the exact date it happened.) Anyway, the picture was the classic one tooth missing smile and it reminded my boss of the day her daughter lost her first tooth. The story goes like this: Jenny was downstairs playing with her siblings and some family friends, while the adults were upstairs getting dinner ready. Jenny’s sister came running upstairs and said, “Mom, come quick Jenny just lost her tooth!” Mom replied, “Great! Have her bring it upstairs and we can all take a look! I’ll find something to put the tooth in so she can give it to the tooth fairy.” Jenny’s sister, “Um mom, I think there’s more than one tooth missing. And she’s kind of bleeding…” As if on cue Jenny begins screaming and crying. It seems there were 5 kids sitting on the back of the couch, someone leaned too far and the couch slipped backwards into the wall. But it didn’t hit the wall because Jenny’s head was between the couch and the wall. Or, more precisely, her mouth was between the couch and the wall. That was the day Jenny lost her first tooth, and her second, and her third, and her fourth and her fifth.

Even 15 years after it happened, I could still hear the fear of the moment as the story was being retold. As my boss was describing this to me I could feel myself getting more and more pale and starting to sweat a bit. (I do NOT handle blood well). Luckily, they were her baby teeth, and after lots and lots of orthodontic care (we’re talking years here people) her mouth recovered and today she has a lovely set of front teeth. It is stories like these that always make me catch my breath. How your life can change in the blink of an eye. How one minute you can be having dinner with friends and the next covered in the blood of your child. Trying to keep it together, reminding yourself to breathe because she needs you to be calm. Trying to think, “This could be worse, we’re OK, we’ll be OK.” Saying these things to soothe your child in a voice that is just a bit off. A bit too forceful, too convincing, a voice that so clearly shouts “WE ARE NOT OK” despite the avalanche of “we’re OK, you’re OK” statements tumbling out of your mouth. It’s too much to think about sometimes.

So this was Wednesday. Thursday the boys headed off to Cub Scout camp and the girls when to Seattle to visit friends and family. Thursday night I told G and her cousins she had 6 minutes before shower time (no, not 3 minutes, not 5 minutes, 6.—It was 8:54 and I like my math to be easy.) I sat back down while chatting with my sister when the following was shouted to me: “N just pushed G off the trampoline and she fell and now her mouth is bleeding and she’s crying!!” And then the wailing began. I ran outside to see my girl flat out on the concrete, blood pouring from her mouth, hands scratched from trying to break her fall, screaming and crying and panicking. At first all I could think of was Jenny’s mouth with a gaping hole where five teeth should have been. Then I remembered it could be worse, was she moving?? Then rage at the cousin who pushed her. And “wow, that’s a lot of blood.” All of this flashed through my mind in the seconds it took me to cross the deck and get to her. (All of the mommy guilt came later.)

She was moving around so I breathed a sigh of relief that her bones and/or her spine weren’t broken, and took her inside to see where she was hurt. A quick assessment of her mouth at least let me know she still had her teeth, but the mouth was also the source of the blood. She had somehow split her bottom gum right between two teeth. And it was bleeding. Heavily. Down her shirt, on her pants, into the white, white sink in the bathroom where we tried to get her to rinse her mouth out. On the paper towels we used to try to stop the bleeding. On the ice pack we tried to use to stop the bleeding. On the popsicle we tried after the ice pack didn’t work. On her hands as she fought me while I tried to shove my hand into her mouth to apply pressure to make. it. stop. Did I mention the whole not good with blood? My voice kept saying “we’re OK” while my mind was waiting to be convinced it was true. All the while she was crying. First just cries of pain, then cries of “IIIIIIIIII. waaaaa--nnnnnnnnt. daaaaaaaa----dddddd--ddddddy.” He was all I wanted also. MD is calm in a crisis, MD knows what to do, MD doesn’t get weak in the knees or turn white when blood is visible. But MD was 6 hours away. So I kept it together. I held her, I washed the blood off her hands so it wouldn’t upset her every time she looked down. I called the pediatrician with one hand while soothing with the other. I got her to open her mouth and applied the pressure to finally, thankfully, make the bleeding stop. Then I carried her upstairs and read to her until she went to sleep in my arms.

While I was reading to her, my brain turned on me. “You should have been watching more closely.” “She shouldn’t have been out there with the bigger kids.” “You only let her on the trampoline because you didn’t want to listen to the ‘…but everyone else is allowed to play on it.’” And while those statements have some merit, I also realize that guilt is a part of my personal parenting make-up. It’s in my DNA as a mother. However, just as I can’t turn off the worry, I also can’t make my kids live in a bubble. (Knowing me I’d be worried that the bubble was made with plastic containing BPA. Or how would we ever be able to recycle that much plastic?) So instead I focused on the fact that we were OK. Shaken up? Certainly. But OK. Then I had a little moment when I realized I had remained calm for the most part. And that I didn’t pass out at the sight of the blood. And the next thing I remember was waking up 10 hours later wearing the same clothes as the night before.

Thanks, but no thanks

2009-07-14T23:40:00.000-07:00

Borrowed from my friend Matt, with my own additions...

Doctors I would NOT allow to perform surgery on me:

Seuss
Phil
Pepper
Dre
Zhivago
Dolittle
Demento
Doom
Strangelove
Laura
90210
Octopus
J
Katz
Scholl

Have a good one!

To attend or not to attend

2009-07-08T22:19:00.000-07:00

So it appears I missed the deadline for my 20 year high school reunion. And by missed I mean I was sitting at the computer, looking at the website and consciously decided not to fill out the form. Normally I realize I’ve missed the deadline for something when I unearth it from the pile of mail and “very important stuff” on our kitchen counter. But here’s the thing, if it was really that important, wouldn’t I have dealt with it right away?

So the deadline came and went, and I figured I was off the hook. Sure, I had already bought a new dress, but I can wear it to some other event. Maybe my dear, dear MD will need to take me out to my favorite restaurant. Or maybe I could sit in the living room wearing it while reading the next Twilight book. (Don’t be jealous of my crazy, busy life!) Then today, of all things, the committee sent a note that they had extended the deadline until next week! Really? What are these people trying to do to me? Not to mention I received a separate email today from another former classmate who is organizing a rouge reunion for the people who don’t want to pay the ridiculous reunion fees. At the same restaurant. On the same night. At the same time. Again, really? I don’t think I have the cojones (who knew that was how you spell cojones?) to pull that off. So, despite the $80 per person fee for drinks on Friday and dinner on Saturday it seems like I’m back to square one--wanting (slightly) to go, but not really willing to put up the cash or effort to actually get my stuff together to attend. Kind of reminds me of the way I felt when it came right down to deciding if I would change my name or not when I got married…

On to other items:

Last night while enjoying cherries (picked by our own hands from our lovely friends’ tree) P said “I have an indigenous way to slice these to get the pit out.” I followed with, “indigenous?” at which point he realized he had used the wrong word. MD said “do you know what indigenous means?” P’s reply was a sigh, followed by “hard working?” “Um no, I think that’s “diligent” you’re thinking of.” P, “no I meant indignant.” Well that might be how you’re feeling at this point, but still not what you’re going for.

A couple of days ago we were at a water park and G threw a giant fit about wearing a life jacket. She finally came around and put the jacket on and told me she wanted it to be “nice and tight, because that’s the way it works best to keep me safe. And safe is good!” I sighed, kissed her forehead and said (in my best you’re testing every ounce of patience I have voice) “I love you.” And what was her reply? Keep in mind, this is the child who must give me a “basket of hugs and a basket of kisses and a huge basket of sticky so they can stay with you” every night before bed, and then blows me kisses over the covers and asks if I caught each one of them. So anyway, I said “I love you” and her singsong reply was, “and I love safety!!”

I’ll be out picking blueberries and away from the internets for a few days, so have a great weekend everyone! (Or just you HB, the only person reading this!)

Should I attend the organized reunion? The rouge reunion? Feel free to sound off.

It started with an explanation, and a can of soup

2009-07-06T13:50:00.000-07:00

Hello world! (Or hello 1 reader who made me start this thing to begin with!) I feel I've got a bit of 'splaining to do regarding my blog URL thing. My name is April, but I don't really have short arms. I also don't have much technological sense, so on occasion, my friends have referred to me as a dinosaur (to be more specific they call me a t-rex). I may have been known to use this lack of knowledge to get out of things by bending my arms so it looks like my hands come out of my shoulders and saying “rhaaaarrr.” You would be surprised at the kind of leeway people are willing to give when a middle aged woman roars at them. Anyway, I’ve used that excuse to my advantage quite a bit, however, my friend HB (you’ll hear more about her later) decided to up and move away, and she forced me to stretch my arms a bit to make a blog so we could stay in touch. So look at me! I’m on the cutting edge of technology…technology from roughly 5 years ago I guess. In about 3 years maybe I’ll see what this whole “Twitter” thing is all about…

Now, onto my random thoughts for today…many years ago I worked with a guy named Mike. Mike was a great guy, a world traveler and taught me that many problems in our office could be solved with a confident voice and a red pen. His theory was that if people heard the confidence in your voice they would either: 1. Know you could solve the problem (using the red pen) so they would stop arguing with you, or 2. Know that they couldn’t make you change your mind so they would stop arguing with you. Clearly the critical piece of this puzzle is that people would stop arguing with you. Once Mike let me in on this secret I was in business and I’ve been thankful to him ever since.

Unfortunately, another secret Mike let me in on was the fact that as a teenager growing up in Iowa he worked on a chicken farm. And I don’t mean a picturesque, red barn, one John Deere tractor, family farm kind of chicken farm. I mean a giant warehouse full of hormone/antibiotic-filled chickens (here’s the part where I frown disapprovingly, yet also have to admit to buying this kind of chicken all the time from the grocery store). Anyway, Mike used to work at the chicken farm and told me that one of his jobs was to collect the old, dying chickens. The ones that had stopped laying eggs and/or were too sick to live much longer.--I’m sure in my naïve mind I thought the story could end happily there. Perhaps they’d get to live on a real farm somewhere as a thank you for all the eggs they had produced? Nope, not so much. Mike let me know that he collected these chickens to be sold to companies to be used in chicken noodle soup. The next time I had chicken noodle soup, I closely examined the “pieces of real chicken!” in it and felt a little queasy. Why is it we can just happily munch our food without giving a second thought until we’re face to face with the actual reality of what it takes to get it on our plate?

And I don’t just mean meat. As teenager I spent a summer working from 7 pm to 7 am 6 days a week at the local pea processing plant. Peas would come in on giant trucks from the fields and if they weren’t timed properly, a line of trucks would form where the peas would be off-loaded into the factory. Some of the trucks would have to wait more than an hour to be unloaded. In 104 degree heat. Needless to say those peas weren’t lookin’ so good by the time they got to us. Do you know what they would be used for? Baby food. Because it all would get blended together. Of course there were other times when the peas would be sent back for a second cleaning because things like small rodent bits were found in the batch. I don’t eat frozen or canned peas anymore. There are times when I’m not sure if I should marvel at the efficiency of the American food system or be horrified by it.

Part of me wants to ask you all what’s your worst food job/experience so I’ll know what else to watch out for, but the other part of me would rather bury my head in the sand. Luckily, I think there’s only about 2 people reading this and they know I have a weak stomach and know that I don’t think I could take one more thing to be worried about regarding our food or its impact on the environment, or big business or anything else! So instead I’ll just ask what was your worst job? I know there are some good ones out there!

“Gosh April, this was a random blog” you might be thinking to yourself, and you’d be right! All I have to say is that I had canned chicken noodle soup for lunch today, picked out all of the chicken before I warmed it up, thought about Mike and wanted to share. Who knows what might inspire the next post?!

Raaarrr

2009-06-26T13:50:00.000-07:00

Hello world! Here I am, short arms and all!