More Money Than Sense

Thanks to Dave Barry's blog for this one. Apparently, parents today are horrified that their kids might be using too much toilet paper--or is it too little? And that they might not understand the complicated theory of wiping. Thank God for Kimberly Clark, which has found a way to (cash in) help these poor, beleagured parents.

Thursday morning observations

*There is a lot of garbage in the library. If those people can get published, I sure shouldn't feel shy about submitting what I write.

My latest foray into not-for-deadline submissions: a third attempt at NPR Morning Edition.
December: Instead of School--rejected within 24 hours, but also the wrong length (I followed the word count on their web site, which was off by 150 words)
January: I am Woman, Hear Me Keep Score--took a whole week to be rejected, this time. I take that as a sign that they actually read and considered it.
February: A Real Turkey of a Thanksgiving. Submitted that just a couple of nights ago.

For March, I need to polish up Worst Mother of the Year and for April, perhaps Chicken Pot Pie...

I am also working on a couple of short fiction pieces for submission to various anthologies. I keep writing those deadlines on my calendar, so that I will remember to work on those things. A deadline is a good thing, even if it's only in my head.

And I have a huge list of things to think about querying Maryland Life...perhaps next week.

*Chocolate muffins make children happy. Happy children in the morning being a major plus for the rest of my day.

*Real estate in Florida is cheap, and www.realtor.com is internet crack.

*Oh, and "Colorado". Joe and I keep mentioning the trip to each other. We say it about as frequently as the average teen says "like".

The straw that...made me decide to carry my camera everywhere

Lately, every time I've left the house without my camera, I have regretted it. Last week, while shopping at KMart, I realized that I just can't let this stand. There is so much out there, just desperate to be blogged, that I'd be a fool to leave my camera at home.

What sent me over the photographic edge? Obviously, the grimey cradle with the creepy March of Dimes flyer was inspiration enough for the average person. But for me, nothing beats Bratz Babies. Yes, baby dolls, slutted up with chains, thong-style diaper covers, and more makeup than a drunken Mary Kay representative.

So, from this day forth, I am the woman with the camera. You have been warned.

Fire BAAAAAAAD! #2

Ok, so Cheney shot his buddy. It was an ACCIDENT.

I really don't understand where all the fuss is coming from. If Cheney had shot this guy because he found him in bed with Mrs. Cheney, if he shot him in a duel, if he shot him on purpose, ok. But really, for everyone who is not directly involved, this is not a big deal. Move on, people, nothin' ta see here!

Ta-Da! The Sponge Emerges

After more than a week of shared showers, cramped kitchen quarters and a horrendous stench, The Sponge is ready. Now, I just have to figure out where I can display this giant thing. I mean, it's not like I have coffee tables crying out for conversation pieces. And I certainly don't want to stash it in the attic. This thing is interesting.

And all the other sponges really seem to take it seriously.

Teddy bear update

OK, so I have found the one exception to the "no stuffed animals" rule. This Saturday's SNL had a great spoof commercial that suggested that a certain teddy bear was the perfect, thoughtful gift. Mike and I howled. So this morning, when he presented me with this little guy, well, it was great. Any holiday gift that makes you bust a gut laughing is a good one, in my book. The look of bemused despair makes all the difference. And according to Mike, this particular item is a lot harder to come by than you'd think.

Valentine's Week Commercial

What is the deal with these ridiculous Valentine's Week commercials? I realize there are women out there who can't get enough of teddy bears, but, ugh. I would think MOST of us aren't the type. And those who are, can't possibly be the porn stars you see oohing and ahhing on the commercial.

From Pudge to Trudge

I just signed up for the "couch to 5K" training program. Today I started out all ready to go, until, um, I actually went. I managed to stumble/grimace/trudge through a mile, including maybe 40 seconds of jogging. I am so unbelievably out of shape, it amazes even me. But at least I have a goal to aim for...

We're all knit together, I guess

Today I witnessed our next door neighbor signing power of attorney over to his wife. We've known this couple 11 years, and it's been a sad, shocking thing to see him decline in recent years. After watching his wife guide his hand to sign his name, I left, and IMed Hubby. Who, naturally, suggested I go have a drink. No wallowing for him! Even though, really, he is the softy, of the two of us.

Then later today, a dear friend presented me with this luxurious, beautiful scarf she'd made for me. It was just the sweetest gesture, and just the thing to shake me from the "we're all going to fall apart and die and struggle in the end" mood.

For the Confident Fat Chick

No brown paper for today's sexy fat chick. Look to the Pennysaver for a head bag that coordinates with your evening wear.

Giant Sponge...a metaphor?

The day we left Tampa, rough surf tossed a giant sea sponge into the yard. It is as big around as a steering wheel, and more than a foot tall. Spectacular, really. We had to lug it home. Now, though, it is a massive, spectacular, stinky mass of rotting sea life.

I guess the down side to any vacation is that what looks like a miracle in Tampa smells like dead fish, back home.

We are officially down from the mountain top

After 17 hours in the car, last night we arrived home with just minutes to spare before the Superbowl kickoff. So, perfect timing. Then again...

the pets were foodless and waterless, and had torn up all the used kleenex and empty dog food packets and strewn them throughout the house. They had also, in what must have been a nutrientless frenzy, knocked over 2 lamps and a coat rack in the living room, and the garbage can in the kitchen.

There was a live bird trapped in the garage, who flew into the house with us, so we spent a half hour chasing a bird before I could run out for dinner.

Crossing the parking lot at Food Lion, two crazy rednecks slalomed around me several times. I was glad to make it back to my car in one piece.

So I was distracted when I ordered dinner, and the KFC people gave us mostly thighs.

While I was avoiding flaming death, Hubby was checking our voicemail...most of which concerned a presentation he has to give this morning, which "I'm sure you know all about". Or at least he would, if he hadn't spent the previous week in Tampa.

The monstrous sea sponge we carted home from Tampa has a monstrous dead smell to go with it, so we can't stand to have it in the house yet.

And this morning, Otis left a massive load on the den carpet, while Son #3 was taking a shower with the shower door open, flooding the bathroom and the basement below. That same son also lost patience with my "we'll go for haircuts this morning" promises, and gave himself a stylin' new pixie mullet.

I am going to take a deep breath, upload our vacation photos to Snapfish, shower with self-absorbed leisureliness, and spend the rest of the day whipping this craphole back into shape.

my muse likes Peter Gabriel

I started working on a short story a while ago, and all while the words flowed I heard a certain Peter Gabriel song in my head. It got to where I would wake up with that music in my brain, and run to the computer to write. It was a great feeling, and one which I have experienced before. Some stories just seem to come with a soundtrack.

Then Peter stopped singing. My story stopped, too. If I sat at the keyboard, nothing happened. I could write other stuff, just not this one story. And here is my deadline, just a month away.

Last night, the song came back. This morning, it's still here. I think I'll actually be able to write. I feel silly, and superstitious, and pretentious, at best. At worst, I feel like my Muse is playing with me, and I better write while she's visiting.

BIG bird

Hubby and I are the only ones awake this morning, since we've been keeping boring hours and letting the boys party all night. It makes for quiet moments in the a.m., and the boys are thrilled.

So while I was puttering in the kitchen, Hubby walked out onto the balcony and saw this bird on the lawn. He took a few pictures, and so did I. I went downstairs and walked, a few paces at a time, closer to the bird. Still not sure what it is, aside from the fact that it must have been 4 feet tall. I got within maybe 20 feet before it became skittish and started to turn away from me. While I was checking my camera, it took off. Amazing something so large can fly.

Also interesting that it has a tag on its ankle. I wonder if that made it MORE relaxed around me and my camera, or LESS?

Damn paparazzi!

My brother in law sent a limo to take us to dinner last night. Not sure if it was to freak out the kids, or just ensure that we made it to his house on time. Hubby enjoyed not driving, and peering out of his window at the hoi polloi. I, of course, would have preferred being in the driving seat, at least while the sun was up. Clearly, people susceptible to motionsickness are not meant for the high life.

The boys enjoyed the ride, basically goofing it up like the rock stars they see on TV. Son #3 posed for this classic shot of the fame-weary celebrity, desperately attempting to protect his precious privacy. He was willing to stand there as long as it took.

Busch Gardens...

...a very nice, very expensive zoo. Darn it, if the boys liked roller coasters, we'd have had a blast. But there really aren't other kinds of rides there. So we strolled the park, checking out the animals and eating horrible food.

And we missed BEER SCHOOL!

We will probably go back this Saturday, to bring Cousin with us for a final Tampa fling. But, um, I can't imagine paying for it again.

We felt the same way about MOSI. The Bodies exhibit was interesting, although Son #3 found it disturbing. But the rest of the place just seemed dated and politically correct. Not to mention all the space dedicated to arcade games.