What makes a rabbit faster than a cat?

Thursday afternoon I looked out my front door and saw a rabbit, frozen in terror behind my unsuspecting cat.

They stayed like that for a long time. The cat actually turned around and looked back toward the house, and didn't even see the rabbit--he was that still. I swore I could read his little rabbit thoughts.

"Oh SHIT! Cat's gonna eat me if I move! Cat might eat me if I stay still! Oh, SHIT! It's a CAT!"

Eventually, the cat turned and started for the rabbit. And the rabbit took off, and made a clean escape.

Because no matter what the rabbit may have thought, he had the advantage all along.

Our Jake didn't need that rabbit. He has plenty of food in the house that he doesn't even have to chase. But that rabbit? He only has one life. That shit will make you want to RUN.

So, rabbits, take it from me. The cat's not going to catch you. You need it more than he does.

The Shoemaker and the Anti-Elves

Remember The Shoemaker and the Elves? Every night the poor shoemaker and his wife would go to sleep, and every morning they would wake to find his work done--and prosperity building. We don't have elves. We have teenagers.

That means that every morning I wake to find they've been cooking. Dishes everywhere. I have to clean the kitchen, before I can do anything in there, like, say, cook.

And as of yesterday, we also have ants. Because, you know, sealing food up in tupperware or a ziploc bag is for boring, old people who don't have, like, better stuff to do, man. God.

So please IM me, or email me, or call. I shall have my laptop in the kitchen all day, while I eliminate the infestation.

Maybe I'll bake some sacrificial sweet goods, too, so they won't have a need to make their own, come midnight.

Wedding Photos: The Delete Key Is My Friend

Yesterday was my first "assistant to the wedding photographer" gig. It was fun. Mostly, I just scurried around behind the photographer, making sure she had everything she needed. But I also had Hubby's camera with me, so whenever I was not fetching CF cards and diet Coke or opening church doors to let in the light, I could shoot whatever pictures I saw.

She doesn't care if I send her my photos, or not. She took a boatload, and they are going to be great. My stuff, it is all just practice, for me. But I think I got a couple that I really like. I'll send them to her, anyway.

In the mean time, I am looking over the 400 or so pictures I brought home yesterday, to eliminate all but the ones that I think she might like.

She paid me in cash (this time) hugs, and a warning that if I really get into this, I am going to HAVE to make good money at it, because the equipment costs so much.

Busted: Hubby Found My Stash

Hubby leaned over my desk today and noticed, for the first time, my giant wicker basket of lip products. He was SHOCKED.

"What IS all that stuff? For a woman who never wears makeup, you sure have a lot."

Which is true. But, hey, I am wearing lip balm, or lipstick, or lip gloss, or a combination, almost all the time. Here is my complete collection, minus the lip gloss that was in my purse. And, to be fair, I received almost all of it for free or cheap, through Makeup Alley swaps.

Now let us never speak of it again.

Overheard in a bathroom trailer at the ZZTop Concert

You know those nasty, plastic porta-potties they set up at outdoor events? Once in a while, there is also a slightly more upscale option--the restroom trailer.

Hubby never uses the trailers, because there is a line. But as a woman, well, I would rather use a bathroom that looks like a bathroom. I explained the nastiness of having to hover in a porta-potty, face inches from the door and swathed in unflushable fumes. He kinda gets it, but of course he is able to stand, so....I hit the trailers alone, generally in a line of other picky women.

And sometimes that really pays off.

Overheard in the trailer at the ZZTop Concert:
"Wow! These hardwood floors are beautiful! They're better than ours!"

"Yeah, this trailer is nicer than the trailer you had, in West Virginia!"

"Look, they have those really nice paper towels, too."

When the artificial hardwood floors in a portable restroom trailer are that impressive, well, I'm I'm glad to be in the next stall. Gotta enjoy life.

ZZTop

Saw ZZTop last night. In the wise words of a good friend, "Doesn't a Tuesday night concert make for a rough Wednesday morning?"

Yes, it does. Even though we were in bed before midnight and slept 'til 7, Hubby and I are pretty sluggish this morning. It was fun, though. Got to hang out with Hubby's singer and his girlfriend.

We weren't allowed to bring Hubby's camera, so he held my little Canon PowerShot above the crowd for grainy pictures.

TAGGED! 7 Songs

That's what I get for reading Nexy's blog every day...

List seven songs you are into right now. No matter what the genre, whether they have words, or even if they’re not any good, but they must be songs you’re really enjoying now, shaping your spring-summer. Post these instructions in your blog along with your seven songs. Then tag seven other people to see what they’re listening to.

Dixie Chicken, by Little Feat
Cheap Sunglasses, by ZZTop
Mr Tambourine Man, by Bob Dylan
Fried Neck Bones, by Santana
Layla, by Eric Clapton
Wake Up Alone, by Amy Winehouse
Never Gonna Change by Drive By Truckers

And in that fine Nexy tradition, if you're reading this, consider yourself tagged.

That was a compliment, right?

Hubby and I went to The Country Store to see a couple friends from Blues Jam perform with their country band, Alibi. It was fun. Saw several people from Blues Jam, and I got to dance a bit.

Also interesting--some guy from the bar (apparently a regular, but what do I know? I only go there to see bands) stopped me on the way to the ladies' room and talked to me for a while...Then one of his friends came by and gave me a long hug.

"I figured, since you were talking to him, you were one of my friends, too," he said. If that wasn't a terrific line, I don't know one.

Then the first man pointed to the guy who hugged me and said,

"He likes women like you. Strong, muscular, hard-bodied women with big legs."

This is not something I have heard before. I am not entirely sure how to take it. But, hey, I guess anything that starts with "He likes women like you..." is probably a compliment.

It is, right?

Can I be a winner AND a loser, this weekend?

I won! I won! Mad William is giving me half of "Oceanic Windows". I love it, and am thrilled. Surf on over there and tell him he is great.

Also of note: last night, I cleaned my fridge. Because, you know, it was Friday night and I know how to party. Hey, you laugh, but if you want some pot roast you know EXACTLY where to find it.

Blues Jam

Last night was blues jam. Y'all know I love it. My favorite song of the night? Hubby, Matt Kelley, and I-don't-remember-who-else, playing "I Found A New Love" by Magic Sam. Don't have that on video, couldnt' find Magic Sam's version, either, sooooo...please to enjoy this band I've never heard before, because they are the only guys on youtube that I could find singing it.

Mission: Impossible

Hubby IMed me around 7:30 this morning. He'd been working much of the night and needed to catch a quick nap before heading in to the office, late. Could I make him coffee at 9:30 and bring it down, if he's not awake by then?

"No Problem," you say. And that is because you are ignorant.

Hubby is deaf in one ear. Completely, profoundly deaf. Mumps, as an adult, will do that. He is also, as you remember, a musician. So his other ear ain't hearing the distant twittering of tiny songbirds, either.

He put in several exceedingly long days in a row. So he is exhausted.

He is locked in his office.

He is the only person who has a key.

So, at 9:30 I made him coffee and brought it downstairs. Every half hour, or so, I go back down to thud on the door and shout his name until both my hands hurt. In between times, I call his cell phone. But he is just not waking up. At some point, he will roll over, his good ear will be away from the pillow, and my frantic door banging and shouting will have an effect. 'Til then, I'm just annoying the Sons.

Judas Priest on a Pony

Today I took 3 of the Sons to the pediatrician. That meant I spent 90 minutes looking at this padded table. Looks comfy, doesn't it?

Then I went for happy hour with Hubby's coworkers. Rode the motorcycle, which is always a blast, but gives me Crazy Biker Chick Hair. Really, I should slap on some leather chaps and take a photo.

(I do not own leather chaps. Do not expect said photo. Just, you know, imagine the crazy hair.)

And then I drove Son #1 to pick up his girlfriend, north of us, to drive them both to the library, south of us. I dropped off the paper recycling, near the library. And on the way home I stopped for milk and gasoline, because all this driving does tend to suck down the fuel.


This is the most I've ever spent to fill up my minivan. Judas Priest on a pony, I just about choked.



And, yes, I have wanted to work that particular colorful phrase into conversation ever since Hubby's guitarist said it, this past Saturday night.

I'm a junkie

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I'm Almost Famous

Hubby and I occasionally play "I'm Almost Famous". This is easier when you don't know each other well, but we still manage a round now and then.

It goes like this:

I'm almost famous because:
My uncle Richard used to work closely with Robert Redford
My uncle Phil is friends with Sylvester Stallone's father AND brother
Hubby's drummer went on to play with Branford Marsalis (that one is just for hubby---tooo tangential for ME to claim!)

And, today, I am almost famous because I am wearing a T-shirt sent to me by my brother-in-law, which was sent to HIM by his good friend, Boomer Esiason. I realize that I am tired and unkempt and am wearing a big, baggy tshirt and a baseball cap and I look ridiculous, but...it is fun having a brother in law with Interesting Friends.

GO TERPS!

And the word of the day is: FUBAR

Got an email, earlier this week, asking me to write a travel piece about a town about an hour from here.

"They'll gather everyone you need to interview, so you can hit them all at once. Just tell me when you can be down, and I'll set it up."

You know how Dad always told you that "if it sounds too good to be true, it is"? Well, that also applies to "if it sounds reasonable, it's too good to be true."

I showed up at the appointed place, a few minutes early. And as it turned out, "gathered" is not what I would have thought. "Gathered," in this case, meant that I was able to ride around town on a golf cart for the next 7 hours, going from business to business, explaining to each of them in turn who I am (the freelancer in charge of editorial, who is not going to be working on any of the future issues) and who I am not (the advertising staff who have been jerking you around and taking your money for months).

I then asked the same few questions, got, for the most part, the same few answers, took a few photos and moved on.

I ate lunch at one of the worst restaurants in town, because they offered me a free lunch--and because they pretty much insisted I avoid the places known for their food, because Those Places Hadn't Paid For Advertising. Why Should They Get Anything?

I then took a winery tour (and discovered I actually like a couple varieties of wine, MUCH to my surprise) and rode yet ANOTHER golf cart, this time around an actual golf course, looking for something to photograph which was not a rolling expanse of green grass. Because, you know, that doesn't look like much, in a small, black-and-white photo.

Then I rushed home.

Hubby was ordering pizza, THANK GOD. Because I had no desire to cook. NONE.

Sons #1, 3 and 4 were chattering continuously, while I tried to check my email and my cell phone messages (my cell battery died while I was golf-carting around).

I am a bit on the beat side, but I think I will be able to write a good article, and I may also have created some much-needed goodwill for the newspaper people, who had pretty much cheesed off an entire town.

Woooo!

Oh, and, "Hi ALF!"

Thanks, Penelope! An Addendum

Hubby read my "Thanks, Penelope!" post and wanted to know what made me cry, on Friday. He is a little concerned that the blogosphere be under the impression that he is the kind of husband who lets his wife cry.

So let me make it clear to all and sundry that they were just a few fleeting tears of orgasmic joy. My Man made me very happy, and all is right with the world, ok?

Take THAT, Sue!

Greenbelt Blues Festival! WOOOOO!

A day of live blues music.
For FREE.
Outside, where I can bring the Sons.
All arranged by a dear friend who, on top of everything else, rushes home from seeing me to tell his girlfriend I look HOT.

For the love of God and all that is holy, WHY ON EARTH would I not be excited about attending the Greenbelt Blues Festival this Saturday?

I know my friend Greed can't be there. Something about a grandchild's first birthday. OK. But the rest of you? You have no excuse. Even you, Penelope. Bass players abound. Totally worth the transatlantic flight. You can crash on our couch, and play backgammon with Hubby.

I mused aloud to a friend of mine, the other day, "Hmmmm....I wonder if I will have the nerve to dance at the Festival in front of my kids, the way I do at Blues Jam at the Country Store? He did not even have to think.

"No. You won't. Ha!"

Probably for the best. Right, Greed?

Thanks, Penelope!

Penelope hearts me. But I can't paste her icon. But, hey, I feel hearted. Enough to steal her meme:


1. What time did you get up this morning? 5:50
2. Diamonds or pearls? Diamonds - I have both but almost never wear the pearls.
3. What was the last film you saw at the cinema? Iron Man
4. What is your favorite TV show? The Office. I would love to see the Brit version.
5. What do you usually have for breakfast? Frozen Mocha
6. What is your middle name? Elizabeth
7. What food do you dislike? Oysters
8. What is your favorite CD at the moment? All together now, folks: "I Think I Made It" by ACME Blues Company
9. What kind of car do you drive? Nissan Quest (the Sons call it The Powerful Mom 5)
10. What is your favorite sandwich? Either hummus on wholegrain bread, or something with "spicy chicken" in the title
12. Favorite item of clothing? thongs
13. If you could go anywhere in the world on vacation, where would you go? Doesn't matter to me, so long as I have my Man. And, um, no kids.
14. Favorite brand of clothing? I don't have one.
15. Where would you retire to? Somewhere within walking distance of the beach, great live music, and a fruit market.
16. What was your most recent memorable birthday? I turned 40 last fall. Like to die.
17. Favorite sport to watch? World's Strongest Man.
18. Furthest place you are sending this? (This originated as an email I think?)
19. Are you a morning person or a night person? Morning, when I don't have to ride herd on children
20. What is your shoe size? US 7.5
21. Pets? 1 idiot pug, 2 cats
22. What did you want to be when you were little? Journalist, or in advertising. I'm kinda doing that, a bit.
23. How are you today? Impatient
24. What is your favorite candy? Butterfingers? Not so much into candy, of late.
25. What is your favorite flower? Gardenias
26. What is a day on the calendar you are looking forward to? June 7--Greenbelt Blues Festival!
27. What is your full name? Can't say it here--the Sons would find my blog!
28. What are you listening to right now? Blessed silence.
29. What was the last thing you ate? Frozen Mocha
30. Do you wish on stars? Only in moments of desperation
31. If you were a crayon, what color would you be? Hate these questions
32. How is the weather right now? Sunny and warming up
33. Last person you spoke to on the phone? Son #1's girlfriend
34. Favorite soft drink? Diet Coke
35. Favorite restaurant? Anyplace ethnic, or Dub's Roadhouse Grill
36. Hair color? Brown
37. What was your favorite toy as a child? tape recorder--I was gonna be Jessica Savitch
38. Summer or winter? Summer
39. Hugs or kisses? Kisses....mmmm...
40. Chocolate or Vanilla? Chocolate
41. Coffee or tea? Tea
42. When was the last time you cried? Friday afternoon.
43. What is under your bed? Dust bunnies and whatever Hubby drops back there
44. What did you do last night? Marveled at how Son #3 has taken over the laundry duties
45. What are you afraid of? Sharks. Drowning. Not being able to see. And Mediocrity
46. Salty or sweet? Both
47. How many keys on your key ring? 7
49. Favorite day of the week? Any day I get to go out dancing
50. Do you make friends easily? Yes I think so.

I laughed at this, and son #2 said I was a 12 year old

I've Got It Bad

Procrastination, that is.

I'm still working on the big project that is due today. Honest, I am. Pay no attention to the new blog entries that keep popping up. Or the fresh scent of fabric softener wafting out of my basement. Or the fact that I have seen photos of Nichole Ritchie's baby, ABOUT WHOM I COULD NOT CARE LESS.

Oh, no. I'm not wasting time. Not me.

It's just that I can only check so many web sites and call so many phone numbers to check on updated info from last year before my eyeballs, brain, and behind go completely square.

I think I'll go scrub a bathroom or something, and then get back to it.

Because I Once Lived Overseas

Hubby and I lived in Thailand for a little over three years. Son #1 was born there.

When people hear this, they very often say something about how it must have been an amazing, life-changing experience. And it was. But to be honest, many of the changes were not all that huge and meaningful. So, hey, here's a handful.

Because I once lived overseas:

I wear jeans all summer. Hardly ever bother to buy shorts. About halfway through my spin class, I start to sweat like I used to sweat, standing around at work in Thailand. So, you know, it's not that hot, ok?

I don't need a tan. Thais think pale skin is beautiful. They like big noses, too. Somehow, though, that combination did not turn me into The Sex Goddess of Thailand. But, hey, at least I will probably not be all wrinkly and cancerous when I am 60.


I make really good fried rice. I have a few other dishes I can whip up, but the fried rice was the hardest one to learn how to do. I had no idea it would be so difficult. So I am especially proud of it. Come over, and I'll make you some.

I was once kicked out of a women's clothing store for being so fat they had nothing to offer me, and the saleslady was afraid I would scare off customers. At the time, I weighed 120 lbs and was an American size 9.


I have cursed a man out for copping a feel. People in Thailand assume, thanks to Hollywood, that American women will fuck anything. So, you know, if you sit next to the bus driver, he will grab whatever he can reach. That happened enough times that I stopped sitting next to the bus driver :) One day, I was walking with Son #1, who was an EXTREMELY ADORABLE baby, if I may say so myself, and a man asked to hold him. This happened ALL the time. Thai people LOVED Son #1. As well they should.

Turns out, though, that the man only wanted to hold my baby as an excuse to run his hands across my chest, at length, when he returned said baby to me.

I yelled at him. Something along the lines of, "Hey! Don't do that! That's rude!" But then I realized: I am way angrier than that. And I do not know how to communicate that, in Thai. I did not know a single Thai obscenity. But you know what? I knew a LOT of them, in English. And I let him hear every last one of them. At top volume. While jabbing my finger at him with one hand, and holding my baby on the opposite hip. Boy, did he apologize. I backed that man down the street for quite some time, and didn't care HOW rude I was being to him or WHAT anyone else might think. That was SOME FUN.


I know what it feels like to be tall. When I got off the plane in Bangkok, I could see over just about everyone. It was awesome. I loved being tall. Because at 5'3", I do not get that experience very often at all. It was, I will say, fantastic, except for one time. And that is a story for another post.


I have no sympathy for illegal aliens. We knew a guy who let his visa lapse, in Thailand. All of us, every foreigner he knew, let him know that he was being irresponsible and stupid, and that he was disrespecting Thai law. We gave him boatloads of grief, until he got his visa stamp and was legal again. Yes, people have lots of lovely reasons for what they do. I don't care. My family came here legally. I lived abroad legally. Get in line, folks.

There are probably lots more things I could mention, here, but...this is just a blog break before I get back to work. May Deadlines kick my butt something royal, every year, and this is no exception. So, hey, maybe I will do this again, sometime.

For Cyndie: 5 Things That Make You Wanna Suck a Gun

Airsoft pellets all over the basement floor.

Cleaning up videogame controllers in the morning, coming back down in the afternoon and cleaning up the same controllers, even though I KNOW FOR A FACT that they did not play that game. They just took the controllers out and spread them on the floor. And removed a lot of the batteries, while they were at it.

Being told that it is His Right to have a messy room. And having to explain that His Right to a messy room extends only so far: not, for instance, to the point where we are ALL enjoying roaches.

Washing folded laundry: because if you leave clean laundry on the floor long enough, the dog will pee on it.

Knowing that I have a family history of children who never leave The Nest. Please, God, make them want to get the hell out when they graduate.

Lately

I tend to forget that the rest of the family expects to eat. Like, meals. I could just about live on my frozen mochas. So, when someone or other mentions that they are hungry, and want to eat, I suck on a mocha while I cook. Hubby says I am getting skinny. Maybe the two are related?

I am not about to spend money on gas, if I can avoid it. So, that means I strap on a backpack and walk to Walmart. I'm gonna have to do that a lot, this summer, since I can't fit all our groceries into one backpack. And I think Hubby will be bringing ice cream home on his way home from work.

I have discovered, however, that I need the occasional Mental Health Day. And those are totally worth the gasoline.

I am still way obsessed with Amy Winehouse and ACME Blues Company. You can probably hear one or the other, wherever I am. But I am very pleased to hear Son #4 singing along with Santana.

Hubby's band is narrowing down a replacement drummer. Looks like they've found someone. I CANNOT WAIT to see them play out. Because I need to dance, ok? A lot. And I have a raging crush on the bass player of Contact Buzz.

I am digging out of a ton of work that I had been procrastinating on, in favor of cleaning. Ya know what? Whether or not I kill myself cleaning, this house is still a pit. So I gotta write, because I actually LIKE writing, and they PAY me for it. But I 'm still going to clean. It's the nature of the mango, folks!

I am starting to accept that I can do some stuff, and other stuff I can't. For whatever reason. And I don't have to be everything to everybody. I just need to tackle today as best I can.

I am relying on my friends, and grateful beyond measure for their friendship. You KNOW who you are. Every last one of you.

I want to enjoy life, more than I want to be right.

Is any of this meaningful? Maybe. But maybe not. It's just me. Please to enjoy.

Nothing to say, but Peter Gabriel says it well

So here is another lazy blog post...the song I hear in my head a lot, lately.

Hayes Carll

Matt has been playing this at blues jam, lately, but not last night, so I had to go looking for it. Fortunately, YouTube has gotten on the stick.

What girl doesn't like bacon?

"Is he going to his girlfriend's house?"

Yes, as a matter of fact Son #1 has been invited to dinner with The Girl's family tonight.

"Is he bringing bacon?"

"No."

"Well, if you had a boyfriend, and he brought bacon, wouldn't you like that? What girl doesn't like bacon?"

Son #3 does have a point. Bacon is good. But not one of your more traditional courting gifts.

Thanks to jtj3

1.Your name plus “ness”
Christineness. Sounds pointless.

2. Two feelings at the moment? Hungry and expectant

3. What are you listening to right now? The shower, and the tv. Thank god the shower is loud enough to tune out the TV

4. Done anything you regret so far this week? Not really, but, hey, it's only Wednesday

5. Describe where you are right now? In the corner of my living room, next to the picture window.

6.The highlight of your week? Do I have to pick? No, I do not. Blues Jam tomorrow and then an ACME Blues Company show on Saturday. I shall be dancing my little butt off. Oh, OK, I pick the ACME show. Because it is a longer night.

7. What are you craving to have right now? Frozen mocha. And I shall, in just a few minutes.

8. Who were the last people you went out to dinner with? My parents, my sister, and the Sons and I went out for truly horrible pizza on Thursday.

9. What are you scared of? Sharks. Drowning. And drowning and then being eaten by sharks. Also, mediocrity.

10. Last movie you watched? Ironman

11. Do you have feelings for someone? Yes!

12. What is your heritage? Italian mother, Brit father, but everyone's been in the US for 120 years so who would know? Just means I like floppy bacon AND pizzelle.

13. Are you thinking of someone right now? Yes.

14. Britney Spears is a skank. Agree or disagree? Well, let's just call her confused.

15. Last thing you downloaded on your computer? flexible healthcare spending reimbursement forms. Because I know how to party!

16.Have you changed much this year? Oh, yeaaaah.

17. Say something about the person who posted this before you? He commented on my blog the other day...just to be nice when I felt lousy.

18. Do you like moms? Some of them. Sometimes even myself.

19.Hugs Or Kisses? Oh, kisses, for sure.

20. Say one of your friends and an inside joke with them. Mike--HOW HARD COULD IT BE?

21. How many homes have you lived in? 11

22. This Q went AWOL. And so it shall be court martialed.

23. Who was the last person to text message you? My Man.

24. Where was the last place you went besides where you are? I drove the Sons to tae kwon do, and then picked up Chinese food AND pizza. Because I am such an awesome wife and mother that I wanted to make EVERYONE happy. Plus, I didn't have to cook.

25. Has anyone ever said you looked like a celeb? Yes, but it's been a long time, because that show went off the air ages ago.

26. Do you speak any other language other than English? I used to speak Thai, but I have forgotten just about all of it.

27. Last thing you watched on TV? Um...something about new helmet-based systems on military planes. I watched about 2 minutes of it. Sounded very cool.

28. Do you dress for style or comfort? Both!

29. Name someone with the same b-day as you? John Lennon

30. Ever had a drunken night in Mexico? No, but I did have a tequila sunrise in Tijuana. Would have had a drunken night, but Hubby got hit by a car before we could drink more than one...

31. Whats the craziest thing you’ve done? I don't think I have ever done anything crazy. Ever.

32. Favorite colour(s)? Blue and green

33. What are your plans for tonight? take the Sons to tae kwon do. Maybe write a bit.

34. What are you looking forward to tomorrow? Blues jam!

35. Last time you smiled? Just a minute ago, while listening to Johnny Cash.

Head cold

Ugh. I am hanging around in my bathrobe all day, sucking frozen mocha through a straw and shopping the Victoria's Secret catalog online. Apparently, when I am sick, I become a self-absorbed 15-year-old with a caffeine jones.

Does that count?

I looked outside our bathroom window and saw about 2 feet of apparently pristine toilet paper in a shrub.

If someone runs around to the back of your house and places one small length of toilet paper in a bush, does that count as TPing?

More Pointless Than the Landmark You Sought

Imagine...you drove all that way to see a tree. And there is, indeed, a tree. But it is not the tree you drove to see. Are you still excited?

If any of you know why I should want to see the original Milestown Oak, please let me know.

For Sue and Hubby

Sue, over at Beggar's Shotglass, talks about boobs a lot. She loves the boobage. A while back she suggested we should all post photos of our boobs on our blogs.

I didn't give it much thought, until Hubby followed the link to her blog a few weeks ago, and asked,

"Why don't you talk about boobs on your blog?"

The short answer is, not much to say about boobs.

But, hey, for Sue, and Hubby, and boob appreciators everywhere, here ya go. Christine, and her Girls, taken just a few minutes ago.

Some things, you just have to blog

Like, for instance, if you find yourself friends with a man they call "Thunder Cock". Dear GOD, if you have a photo to prove THAT, it goes on the blog.

Not that I can vouch for the, um...Thunder. Let's just assume all the hype is justified. Anyone with first-hand knowledge, please dish in the Comments section.

Iron Man

We took the three youngest Sons to see Iron Man last night. Son #1 claimed that he would rather stay home and mow the lawn. Hubby and I realized IMMEDIATELY that he would not, in fact, mow the lawn, but would rather spend the evening visiting his girlfriend.

That included a bike ride to her house, which required the use of my cell phone, because naturally he had to talk to her on the ride. Also predictable? He stayed at her house for so long that he was afraid to bike home in the dark, so I had to go pick him up, after the movie.

Anyway, we all enjoyed Iron Man. The Men liked it for the story and the cinematography. And I, well, I have been staring at Robert Downey Jr. since, like, FOREVER.

It's good that they feel comfortable saying stuff to me...right?

Went out with 3 of the Sons this afternoon, which means I found myself in Popeye's, picking up dinner.

Son #2 had this HUGE grin on his face, as we waited for our order. I asked him why he was smiling so much, and he said,

"I don't know how they do it, but they must fry this chicken in sex, or something. It smells that good."

Let us hope that he is operating on theory.

The Infallible Logic of the 13-Year-Old Boy

"If PETA has attractive women wearing nothing but lettuce leaves, saying they will continue to wear nothing but lettuce leaves until I decide to stop eating meat, I am going to go to their meetings and ask for a steak."

Yup, Son #3 is smart. And has obviously discovered women.

It's not mean if I was ASLEEP

Last night I dreamed that Hubby asked me if today was a school holiday. In the dream, I figured, "He knows what he's talking about. He must have consulted the calendar." So I agreed with him. And then he told the Sons they could stay up late, since they had no school today (we homeschool the 2 younger ones, but follow the high school calendar so they have off when the oldest 2 are home).

Today I woke up to discover it was not a dream. Although I was asleep for the entire conversation, it actually occurred. So, um, Son #2 is at school on 4 hours of sleep.

And Hubby kept telling him how MEAN I was, to tell them they had a day off and then take it back.

It's a banner day, I tells ya.

Oh, we are just a PAIR

Hubby keeps throwing out his back. Thank God for lidocaine patches. And then yesterday I tripped over a wayward branch and fell onto the concrete steps in front of our house. Couldn't break my fall because I was carrying a stack of pizzas. So I landed, HARD, on both knees and elbows.

Little Miss No Drugs is sucking down ibuprophen like a pro. And walking like a 90-year-old. I'd ask Hubby to kiss my knees and make them better, but I think if he bent over that far he'd never be able to make it back up to a standing position.

Celtic Festival

Yesterday was Son #4's birthday, and the annual Celtic Festival. I brought my camera but didn't get the urge to take any photos. Had a good time, bought the boys weapons and fed everyone cake, and listened to Scotland the Brave until even I kind of wished the bagpipers would learn something else. Waterloo, maybe, or Rebel Yell.

We all got sunburns, but since I wear sunscreen all the time mine is just that little bit of pink across the nose. The perfect opener to summer. I think it's gonna be a good one.

A room of her own, and time

The other night, while not entirely typical, wasn't too far off of a normal day.

Son #1 wanted to see his girlfriend.
Son #2 wanted to attend a National Art Society thing at school.
Sons #3 and 4 had tae kwon do.

So, I took Son #1 to The Girl's house. Went home, started emptying the dishwasher, in preparation for making dinner. Piled the remaining Sons into the car, drove to the school, and then to the tae kwon do school, and then home. Back to the dishwasher. Son #4 called: he had been injured. So, back to tkd, and then home. More dishes. Time to pick up Son #3. Home. Dishes. Pick up Son #1. Thankfully, Son #2 found a ride home with a friend. Also great: Hubby ordered pizza. Because clearly I was never going to get dinner on the table.

So what would I do, if I had actual time? All the time I wanted, to do what I want?

I would read the manual
I love Hubby's camera. Use it more than he does, lately. But I would love to spend a day reading the manual and figuring out more about it.
Same goes with the computer.
The web cam.


I would catch up on all the housework
This sounds deathly boring, and it IS. But it would be nice to feel like everything was in its place, and smelled of scented candle instead of dog.

I would spend time in the city, alone
The Happy Boondocks are fine for raising children, but I really miss DC. I miss Baltimore. I would love to spend a day, every month or so, just walking the streets of a city. Stopping somewhere for lunch. Taking photos of the architecture. Visiting museums. Just roaming the city to see what catches my eye.

I would go dancing a lot more
Especially to fantastic blues music.

Speaking of which, I would follow ACME Blues Company and the Idle Americans like a Deadhead.
Hubby says I already pretty much do that. But he has no idea how often I think, "They're only playing an hour from here. I could go!"

I would go on long, meandering drives. I love to drive. I even enjoy the Beltway.

I would write more

I would take more pictures

I would spend a lot more time at the gym.

I think I would do some artsy stuff--nothing really impressive, but learn to silkscreen with Fiddlin' Writer like we keep saying we're going to do.

And most importantly I would spend a LOT of time with my Man. And since this is not officially a sex blog, I will leave the details up to your imaginations.

Dating Advice from my 16-Year-Old

Son #1 and The Girl have been together for 2 months. This is momentous, of course. And although The Girl's family is the source of concerned amusement, she herself seems like a very nice young lady, and she clearly makes Son #1 happy. So I am happy.

Today, Son #1 missed the bus, so we had some time in the car together. And this is what he had to say, after chuckling at the thought of Hubby and I once being young and in love and kissing in public and all that:

"I think dating is more luck, than skill. It's not hard, really. Ya just gotta not be angry with each other. Because if you love her, there is nothing to be angry about. And if you DO get angry, you should just talk it over with her. And if you're angry with each other all the time, well, maybe she is not the girl for you.

You need to be able to tell her how much you love her. All the girls I know have the problem that their boyfriends can't communicate. If you love her, you need to be able to tell her. And you need to be able to talk to her about how you think and feel and everything.

And random acts of kindness are good, too."

The Boy may spend half his waking life plotting the utter destruction of his three younger brothers, and his ultimate domination of the entire human race, but clearly he has some sense when it comes to women.

Also interesting, while I'm on the subject of The Girl:

She is afraid of me. Apparently I sound scary, on the phone. Probably because the only time she hears me on the phone is when she has called at some godforsaken hour and I pick up the phone to say "THAT IS IT!" But, hey, she hasn't called at 5 am since :)

The natural response to a girl who is afraid of me is...to be nice to her, right? But unfortunately the flip side of "your mom scares me on the phone" is "your mom is too nice, in person". Because her mother's partner is "nice in person", but also bipolar and violent and prone to moving out and moving back in. So, you know, "nice in person", to this girl, is code for "and probably therefore crazy". So, I can't be nice to her to make up for my scary telephone persona.

Also a roadblock: The Girl's mother disapproves of me, and so The Girl is not allowed to spend time at our house.

For those who are keeping score:
The Girl is 13. Her mother is 27. Her father is, according to Son #1, "a very nice man, very smart, easy to talk to when he's sober, but effed up because of all the alcohol and drugs. It's really sad." And The Girl doesn't get to see him much, because she lives with her mom, and her mom's girlfriend, when said girlfriend isn't beating the tar out of her mom and moving out.

The Girl's grandmother is a former stripper. I met her briefly and she seemed like a very nice person, but...she is 51 and easily could pass for 80. And, of course, she raised The Girl's mom. 'Nuff said.

Last weekend, Son #1 went with The Girl and her mother to a local festival. They had a great time, even though The Girl's mother kept telling Son #1 that his penis was "too small for me! Maybe big enough for her, but too small for me!" and, when her bra started to irritate her, she removed her underwire and handed it to Son #1 "because you probably would appreciate it."

It's not that she's a lesbian, it's the fact that she is a man-hating lesbian who likes to tease adolescent boys about adult topics, that bothers me. Chick needs to learn to self-censor, I think.

THAT woman. SHE disapproves of ME.

Great Political Discussion of the Day (or, everyone I know is on the far ends of the spectrum)

I made a new friend, this spring. He and I chat a lot. He's great. He thinks I am great. We have a blast, online.

He told me this evening that he won't be online for a few days, because he'll be in PA helping Obama.

"I hope you don't mind I'm not a Hillary supporter," he said.

"I hope you don't mind I'm a lifelong Republican," I responded. Because, as my loyal readers have surmised by now, I would gladly vote for Zombie Reagan, were he running from beyond the grave.

We got a good laugh out of it. And I told him about my blog, today, too.

So,

WELCOME, HONEY! WELCOME TO THE BLOG! I love you, even though we are going to skip to our respective polling places this November and cancel each other out.

Must Be the Tea

Your Slogan Should Be

Christine Keeps Going and Going and Going

The Slogan Generator

Actually, I do enjoy watching some sports

Yesterday I was on the treadmill watching the World's Strongest Man competition.

I LOVE THAT!

I always feel a little stupid, when Hub is watching football or baseball. I can't keep track of all the ruuuuuuules. And the guys are all going in all kinds of directions and I can't keep them straight. And there is all this special lingo. It's just not fun.

I don't like team sports. I like World's Strongest Man. I like wrestling. Running. Speed skating. Biathlon.

There's not a lot of complicated thinking. There's not much strategy. No teamwork. Just:

Is he faster?
Is he stronger?
Is he better than the other guy?

I love that.

I was totally into World's Strongest Man, yesterday. Is that guy gonna get all 10 barrels over the wall? Can he hump those Atlas Stones onto the pillars fast enough? And GOOD GOD, deadlifting 750 lbs. That is some kinda strong.

Yay, ESPN!

And, FYI, NO, this does not qualify as a mmmmmmmmmmmmen post. I love to watch World's Strongest Man, but those guys do not qualify as Christine's Sexiest Guys. Too darn bulky.

The Boy Needs a Scratching Post

Years ago, up-to-our-eyeballs in a Son who seems bent on destruction of everything we own, we started calling him The Boy--after Homer Simpson's references to Bart.

He is now almost as tall as Hubby, and starting to look like a man, a little, but I swear to you he is still The Boy. Let me give you a For Instance.

This morning, I needed nail clippers. A few months ago, aware that The Boy has a tendency to pick things up, use them, and then either abandon them wherever he happens to lose interest in them, or, alternatively, break them into tiny pieces and abandon THEM wherever they will be most unattractive, I bought 7 pairs of nail clippers.

I put one on my desk.

I put one in the basket where I keep my nail polish and stuff.

I hid 5 behind that basket.

In recent weeks, I have been finding broken pieces of nail clipper all over the house. Fortunately, I have had my shoes on when I found them, because even a broken nail clipper would be uncomfortable under a bare foot.

Today, I officially have NO nail clippers. They have all been dismantled, or at the very least hidden away in his basement lair.

Hubby says what we need is something big we can give him to destroy, so he won't destroy the stuff we actually need. A sort of Scratching Post. Do they make such a thing? The image of him standing in the middle of the living room, scratching on a 7-foot-tall tube of cardboard as thick as a Sequoia, had me busting a gut laughing, this morning.

On an unrelated note, Walk Hard: The Dewey Cox Story is also hilarious. Key Quote:

"I'm cut in half, pretty bad."

Who's hardcore? I AM HARDCORE, BeOTCHES!

This morning I got some writing done--personal writing, and some creative stuff that I may be able to publish at some point. It was all a warm-up for the Chamber of Commerce stuff I will be working on all week.

I didn't really have time for breakfast, before my weights class, so I grabbed a can of V-8 and an apple. Ate the apple in the car on the way to the gym. Saved the V-8 for after class.

About 40 minutes into class, I felt light headed. I walked out, had a seat on a bench in the lobby, and passed out.

Woke up a minute or so later, hurling Granny Smith bits all over myself.

Got up, cleaned off the bench, vacuumed the apple off the carpet, drank my bottle of water, and drove home to blog about it.

How was YOUR workout today?

RAAAAAAAH!

I had to cackle

Hubby got me Microsoft Office today, for the new computer. So, you know, I can't complain any more and I have to actually get some work done. That's cool.

Hubby being Hubby, he is not one to just give me Word and Excell. I also get a bunch of stuff I'll never need. He just can't help himself. But the new machine has lots of hard drive space, so it's no big deal. He can load this puppy up, I won't care.

"I'm putting Alcohol on here, too."

"What's that?"

"I don't know why they call it Alcohol, actually."

"Well, what does it do?"

"It lets you mount--"

He got that far. I could not stop cackling, except to chime in with,

"software that didn't seem all that attractive, earlier in the evening?"

Nuts, I tells ya!

Son #3 noticed, this morning, that our jar of peanut butter had a warning label. It contains peanuts, you know.

"I kinda think that if you can't see the GIANT PICTURE OF A PEANUT on the label, the warning isn't going to do you any good."

That boy. He can think.

Schadenfreude

Son #1 is thrilled that all the jerky people he knows are experiencing difficulties. The drug dealer is up on charges. The girl who cut herself for popularity's sake is now cutting herself because she's miserable. The guy who drives everyone nuts got suspended for cursing over the school PA system.

Son #4 looks up at him and says, "You really shouldn't have so much schadenfreude."

Damn, I feel good.

Charlton Heston

Charlton Heston is dead.

I should say something deep and meaningful. But all I can come up with is, "Get your hands off me, you damned dirty apes!"

Gimme 5!

Cyndie tagged me, and how could I resist her? That woman is a force of nature.

The rules are as follows:

1. Each player answers the questions about themselves: five items per answer!
2. At the end of the post, the player then tags five people and posts their names, then goes to their blogs and leaves a comment letting them know they've been tagged and to ask them to play along and to read your blog.

10 Years Ago:
I still had kids in diapers.
I spent way too much time driving to school, preschool, BoyScouts & soccer.
I spent about 3 months in a miserable funk over turning 30.
Son #2 gave me a ring pop and asked me to marry him (they each did that at age 4).
I volunteered at school.

Today's To-Do List:
Finish laundry
Reload the dishwasher
Pick Son #1 and Fiddlin' Writer's Boy up from the party they're attending
Walk the dog one more time
Clear some papers off of my desk

Snacks I Enjoy:
Jalapeno poppers
bananas
Potstickers
Onion rings from Dub's Roadhouse Grill
hummus

If I Were a Billionaire, I Would:
Get a mansion, yo!
Ask Warren Buffet to help me design my investment portfolio
Hire Lynette to do my hair and makeup every morning, right in my house
Take the family on a grand tour of Thailand
Instantly become The Good Daughter-In-Law

My Bad Habits:
I don't floss as regularly as I should.
I tend to pick and scratch at things. Ick. Even I know that's gross.
I have a bit of a potty mouth.
I am distractable.
I procrastinate.

Places I've Lived:
Greenbelt, MD (tiwce!)
Gambrills, MD
College Park, MD
Silver Spring, MD (twice!)
Chieng Mai, Thailand

Jobs I've Had:
Receptionist (twice)
Kmart Grill hash-slinger
Retail clerk (twice)
Bank teller
English teacher

I tag Amy, Penelope, Andrea, Sue, and Jill. I would tag ALF, but she hates blog tag.

"Did you do it?" you ask?

Did I trim Hubby's toenails? Yes, as a matter of fact I did. And it's not the first time, either. Although, yeah, he has a sore back. So, maybe, it was called for, THIS TIME.

Can't Mom Do It?

Last night, before leaving to take the three youngest Sons to tae kwon do, I asked Son #1 to empty the dishwasher.

Naturally, he did not.

After dinner, late again because of said tae kwon do schedule, I was beat. Pretty much collapsed into bed just a hair after 9, dishes only partially done.

Woke up this morning, sat bleary-eyed at the computer to get my daily email fix, and Son #1's first words were:

"You sure are making this hard. You do everybody's laundry but mine."

Which means, of course, that I do whatever laundry makes it into the laundry room.

Gave Son #2 lunch money. Checked the gym schedule, the kids' schedule (Son #3 gets new spacers on today, for his upcoming braces) while everyone else got ready for their day. Made some minor preparations for lunch-to-come. Woke Son #3 up so he would take a shower. Got back to reading the news of the day. Because, you know, I am sleepy.

Hubby came down the hall a little miffed.

"You forgot to make the coffee!"

Yes, I usually make the coffee, even though I don't drink coffee. It started out as something he asked me to do, and I did to be nice, but has turned into something he expects me to do, and won't do himself, because our current coffeemaker requires a thorough daily cleaning or it does not function.

We bickered. Which is not the way either of us wants to start the day. He is now willing to make his own coffee, some mornings, so long as he can invest in a new coffeepot that is not as big a pain in the butt to operate. That's fair. Then, I can go back to making coffee for him out of niceness, instead of feeling like it has become yet another thing I am expected to do, even though I don't benefit from it and the person who does benefit could do it for himself.

Much hugging and making up ensued. Hubby assured me he would be more self-reliant and do for himself those things he can. I apologized for taking out my frustrations with children who practically expect me to chew their food for them, on him. I brought my breakfast into the bedroom, so we could have a few relaxing moments together while Hubby got dressed for work. He looked down at his feet.

"Sweetie, can you trim my toenails for me?"

I hate Word Pad

Last week, I spilled a beverage near my computer. Not ON, mind you. NEAR. And apparently some seeped under it and killed it.

I am in a mood most foul.

I am on my second loaner computer. My data is safe. But I don't have Microsoft Word on here, or the program to use my printer, or the program to look at the photos I took to go along with the article I'm working on.

Everything takes extra steps. And I am stuck writing in Word Pad. I HATE Word Pad. It is taking me forever to finish writing, because it's just not smoooooth, like MS Word.

On the bright side, hating my computer means I'm spending less time chatting and more time doing laundry. Our towels are April Fresh.

I hate Word Pad.

The nicest thing anyone said to me, all weekend

"If your ass gets any smaller, I'm going to print up signs saying 'Christine is a bitch.'"

Fiddlin' Writer, you know EXACTLY what to say.

What launched hubby out of bed, this afternoon?

"You are being a TOTAL MONSTER on this, Mom! SCREW YOU!"

Seconds later, Hubby was across the hall, hands on a certain Son's collar, explaining that he. will. not. tolerate. that. kind. of. talk.

And I am glad he stepped up for me. The Sons need to know that Dad and Mom are on the same page.

The funny thing is, Dad is the one who had come down harder. Dad was the one who made the decision the Son didn't like. I guess it is easier to shout down at your Mom, than up at your Dad.

At issue? He wanted a ride to a friend's house, and for Very Valid Reasons we told him he had to ride his bike, instead.

I'm a total monster. So screw me.

It made sense at the time: Big Mac a Big Mistake

Several people have said, lately, that since I go to the gym almost every day and dancing at least a couple times a month, I must be "able to eat anything I want". This is not exactly true.

It does mean, however, that if I want a Big Mac, I can say, "Well, shoot! I haven't had one of those in a good 3 years. And I don't want fries. And I'll wash it all down with a diet soda or some unsweetened tea. And all I had for breakfast was a yogurt. And I'm on my way to spinning class, which I know is going to burn 500 calories or so. What the heck?!"

Unfortunately.

If you eat a Big Mac in the parking lot at the gym, and then 10 minutes later you are in class with Scottie, whose idea of instruction is to SHOUT AT YOU TO GO FASTER! DON'T SLOW DOWN! DON'T SLACK OFF! WE ARE IN A RACE! DON'T LET THEM BEAT YOU! RAAAAAA! for 45 minutes, you will spend the entire class feeling like you are going to puke.

Like, maybe, puking is a GREAT idea. Like getting rid of that Big Mac by any means necessary would make the whole ride a lot easier. And like the people in the class would see you puke all over yourself and cheer, while Scottie yelled, "YEAH! PUSH THROUGH IT! FEEL THOSE HAMSTRINGS! GO NOW! RAAAAAA!"

I just got home. I am sipping on the remains of my diet Coke---it stayed ice cold, in the car. I think I will never eat a Big Mac again.

Don't get me wrong, though. I think Scottie is awesome.

Not so great name for a band? Ugh

Well, we polled the electorate. Or, at least, we polled my readers on the blog, Hubby's coworkers, several bartenders and everyone at open mic night this past Thursday.

We presented that extremely long list (of names suggested by myself, Hubby's friends, and every member of the band), and accepted new ideas on the fly, and had people say what they liked of the bunch.

A lot of the names got a vote or two. A lot of new names went on the list.

The two big winners, though, were FrankenFish (Hubby's idea) and Oyster Shooter (mine).

Naturally, Hubby brought all this data to his last band practice and no one liked either one of those.

The drummer suggested a name. The rest of the band agreed to it. And so...at this point...Hubby's band is going to be called...

Ugh, I can hardly type it. The drummer's suggestions all had a certain ickiness to them. They all seemed perfectly suited to an early-80s, blue-collar, hair metal band. Which is totally unlike the music Hubby's band will play, but absolutely in line with the drummer's persona.

Not that he's not a nice guy and a talented drummer. I'm just sayin'.

The jury is still out. Maybe Hubby can talk some sense into the rest of the band. After all, they want something memorable, and clever, and easy to spell, and something that lends itself to a good logo for t-shirts and such, and something that is not already a band name on the interweb. Something that communicates the fact that this is a group of men in their early 30s to mid 40s, playing classic and modern rock and the occasional blues tune.

In other words, the last thing they want, is to call the band....

Infexious

Dave Brubeck's Happy Easter

Happy Easter, everybody!

My sister and my parents are coming down for the evening, bringing a pork roast and the Egg Hunt and a pie. I am in charge of everything else, which is why I am blogging, instead of scrubbing my bathrooms or peeling potatoes.

So let me just say that Blue Rondo a la Turk is great kitchen music on an Easter Sunday. I'm in here on a borrowed computer, because my own machine died on me last night (something about a spilled beverage)...and with Dave's assistance, I feel a little less like I am going through the holiday motions when my heart's not in it, and a little more like it's a beautiful spring day.

Oh, and I love those malted milk balls.

At about this point, Poky Redhead is shaking her head. "Christine? Do you have ADD or something? What does any of this have to do with anything?"

And it doesn't. I'm just rambling. So, Happy Easter to all of you. Lots of love. From Christine.

Urban Dictionary Says It's True

Urban Dictionary says it, so it must be true: I am the coolest, sexiest person around.

Then again, it also says I am hairy testicles. Which can be cool and sexy if you're into that, but can also be...something you really don't ever want to encounter. So, hey, it is what it is.

Amy Winehouse Knows Some Stuff

I know, I know, Girlfriend is a hot mess and it's irresponsible to like her and we should all shun her until she gets herself together and she's no Nina Simone and all that. But I love this song today.

Great Name for a Band

Hubby's band is getting ready to play out, soon. I am BEYOND PSYCHED about this. I have wanted Hubby to be in a band with this particular singer for years.


WOOOOOOO!

Ok. But although they are having a great time and getting tight together, they can't choose a band name. Nothing fits, yet.

So this morning Hubby sent me a list of the latest contenders. Which do you like? And, if you can think of any others, PLEASE SEND THEM TO ME.

Downward Spiral
Attention Deficit
Repeat Offender
Dry Heaves
Drunken Stupor
Storm Warning
Wanderlust
Mid Atlantic Dawn
Abandon
Crush
Chasing Sky
Cold Fire
Nether World
Ghost Water
Wicked Season
Lusbians
Earthshine
Never Surrender
Basket Case
Flight
Bloodline
Terra Firma
FrankenFish
Chumming for Rock
Hung Jury
The Coolidge Effect
Killer Plankton
Oyster Shooter
Slack Tide
Dead Reckoning
Poet's Justice
Rock Box
Misfit Toys
Noble Savage
The Klink
Flood
Precious Bodily Fluids
Half Deaf
Mood Disorder
The Fast and the Curious
Rock in a Hard Place
Private Snowball
Major Malfunction
Lost Weekend
Backdoor Men
Cock and Bull
Hair of the Dog
Reverse Cowgirl
Fender Bender
Show us Your Tits
Not the Father
Miscellany
Spam Filer
Designated Drinker
Witness Protection Program
Worth the Hangover
Boxers, not Briefs
The Hung Dynasty
Happy Ending
Storm Surge

Sky Lab
Toxic Shock
Chumming for Rock
Trouble in the Cockpit
Reach Around
Follow The Money
Show Me The Money
Heat Seeking (or Seekers, Seekers, etc)
Category 5 (or 6)
Napalm in the Morning
Sometimes you eat the Bear
Dude!
Coin Slot
Botox
The Myth of Fingerprints
The Coolidge Effect
Slack Tide
Reverse Cowgirl
Hard Crabs
Spam Filter
Witness Protection Program
Designated Drinker
Worth the Hangover
Boxers not Briefs
The Hung Dynasty
Happy Ending
Storm Surge
Butt Floss
Voodoo Highway
Nimpho-tainment
The Stalkers
Repeat Offender

1040 Blues

I have spent today organizing paperwork for the annual taxation onslaught. I am LUCKY, I know, because Hubby has done so much work for a local CPA that they are doing our taxes for us this year. But by the same token, I am tired of it and still not done.

I wanted to embed a Robert Cray video--1040 Blues. But Youtube does not have it. So, you know, hum it if you know it.

Sparkly pink fingernails

Someone asked me, yesterday, if I painted my nails pink "for your husband, or your boyfriend".

And so I told him the truth--I did it for me.

JUST LIKE HER

Growing up, just about the angriest thing my mother could say to me was that I was JUST LIKE HER--my grandmother. She always meant that I was exhibiting some of her mother-in-law's worst qualities.

I am starting to think that, for good or ill, I am a lot like Granma Bolz. And even though that includes her faults, I don't mind.

When she passed away, she left me one of her coctail rings. It was a little loose to be a pinky ring, and too tight to wear anywhere else, so I stuck it in a drawer. But this week I had it sized to fit my middle finger. I've been wearing it and it feels like it belongs on me. I think that if she were a 40-year-old woman, we'd get along famously and understand each other.

And probably also drive my mother nuts.

Wonder Twin Powers, ACTIVATE!

Honesty Meme

I stole this from Sue. Because, after last night, I need something light-hearted to focus on.

“40 Secrets About Yourself”
Be HONEST no matter what.

1. What Is your natural hair color?

Exactly the color you see. Brown.

2. What is your middle name?

Elizabeth. It sounds so much more sophisticated than I feel.

3. Your current relationship status?

Married 19 years

4. What is your current mood?
Fairly calm & focused, in a "Monday morning, tons of work" kind of way.

5. What color underwear are you wearing?
I have a brown bra and blue boyshorts with tulips on them

6. What makes you happy?

Sex, kissing, and public displays of affection. Dancing. Great live music. Hanging out with friends. Writing. Getting PAID for said writing. Photography. Compliments. Blog comments. Those emails telling me I have MySpace messages from people I like. And the gym.

7. What are you doing right now?

Eating a chocolate chip bagel and suppressing the urge to scream.

9. If you could go back in time, and change something what would you change?

I'm not sure. Mostly, I think I would go with the way I did things.

10. If you MUST be an animal for ONE day- what would you be?

A big, bad-ass tiger.

11. Ever had a near death experience?

Nope.

12. Something you do a lot?

Laundry. Dishes. Futz around on the Internet. And hit the gym.

13. What’s the name of the song stuck in your head right now?

Fuck Me Pumps


14. Who did you copy and paste this from?

Sue

15. Name someone with the same b-day as you?

John Lennon, and his son, Sean. Too bad I have no musical talent.

16. When was the last time you cried?

Couple of weeks ago, I think

17. Have you ever sung in front of a large audience?

Yup, in school, in choir.

18. If you could have one super power what would it be?

I would be able to read minds. But only when I wanted to. Not all the time.

19. What’s the first thing you notice about the opposite/same sex?

My gut feeling about them, whoever they may be.

20. What do you usually order from Starbucks? A Really Big, skinny, caramel latte.

21. What’s your biggest secret?

Ha. Like I'd tell the internet.

22. Favorite color?

I think the teal on the wall in my living room. At sunset and sunrise, it matches the sky outside and the wall disappears.

23. When was the last time you lied?

Let's just say that sometimes I let people keep their assumptions of me, instead of correcting them.

24. Do you still watch kiddy movies or TV shows?
I do if the kids watch them in my bed.

25. When did you last see someone you wanted to date?

This morning. I see him every day.

26. What are you eating or drinking at the moment? Chocolate chip bagel and milk.

27. Do you speak any other language? I used to be able to speak Thai, but I haven't used it in 15 years.

28. What are your favorite smells?

Hubby. Son #4. Bath & Body Works Creme Brulee stuff. Oriental grocery stores. Certain perfumes, and Polo, in small doses. Baking stuff. Sandalwood. Mint. Tide. Bleach. Gardenias. Jasmine. Lemons.

29. If you could describe your life in one word what would it be?

Intriguing

30. When was the last time you gave/received a hug?

About 20 minutes ago. Thanks, Hubby!

31. Have you ever been kissed in the rain?

Probably, but I have no specific memory of it.

32. What are you thinking about right now?

I wish Sons #1 and 2 were already on the way to school.

33. What should you be doing?

folding laundry

34. What was the last thing that made you upset/angry?

SON #1 GAVE OUR Wii SYSTEM TO SOME GIRL AT SCHOOL WITHOUT TELLING ANYONE.

35. How often do you pray?

Does "Lord, beer me strength!" count? In that case, all the damn day.

36. Do you like working in the yard?

No. I would be happy to live in an apartment.

37. If you could have any last name in the world, what would you want?

The one I've got!

38. Do you act differently around your crush?

I did at first.

39. Name one song that reminds you of an ex?

Fortunately, I've been married so long that the songs that would remind me of an ex are no longer getting played on the radio.

40. What do you think of the person who sent this to you? Be HONEST!
I wish I knew her in real life. Because I think we'd have fun.

I am stunned...just....absolutely stunned

A couple of Christmases ago, when the Wii system was new, Hubby camped out at Best Buy to get one for the Sons. It was one of those things, you know--we can't afford it, it's taking up a chunk of a Saturday he needed to use for other stuff, but Santa was going to really pull it out.

And he got one. One of the last ones available.

Christmas morning was AWESOME. And the family has enjoyed the Wii. We've bought a few games for it, we all have played it from time to time. It's not ALL we do, obviously, but...it's fun.

Tonight, I don't know how it came up in conversation, but...

Son #1 gave our Wii system to some girl at school.

I don't know when he did it.

He does not know where this girl lives.

He does not have her phone number.

And he thinks that it is in better hands, at her house, than here. He decided that his brothers weren't using it enough, and when they did use it they weren't taking good care of it, so he gave it away, without telling anyone.

He is furious with us, for telling him that he needs to find this girl at school tomorrow and get her phone number and tell her that Hubby is coming over, tomorrow night after work, to pick it up.

He thinks he did the reasonable thing, and WE are being crazy. He has been yelling at US, for telling him we need the Wii back tomorrow.

On a potentially related note, a few months ago I splurged on a new pair of sneakers. It was not really a splurgy thing---my knee was bothering me, because my sneaks were old, and sneakers are expensive so it FELT like a splurge. I bought them for myself for my birthday. And then a couple of weeks later, they disappeared, never to be seen again. Not one to keep spending money, I just went back to my old sneaks and am sucking it up, on the knee pain front.

But now I wonder. Does this girl have my shoes, too?

Holy fuck.

I mean, maybe I should not curse, but I am just beyond words, at this point.

He's traded in his 40-year-old for a pair of 16-year-olds

Ever since last summer, when I took the boys to a barbecue and music festival, Son #1 has been asking when he can see ACME Blues Company again.

WHYYYY can't I go?

WHYYYYYY can't I go, just because it's in a bar?

WHHHYYYYYY can't I go, just because you hang out with your old people friends when you go see them?

WHENNNNNN can I go see them again?

He guarantees me that he would do ANYTHING to go. That he loves their music (and he, like all the Sons, does indeed sing along to the entire CD.) And as a budding left-handed bassist, he says that he would "go all Fan Girl on Wolf," ACME's left-handed bass player.

This weekend, the younger two Sons are out of town. And ACME is playing, just about 40 minutes from home. A little far for me to go alone, but...it is not a bar. It is an actual RESTAURANT. With no dance floor, but, I can bring teens.

He was all hot to go. Really looking forward to it. And then.

Some girls he know invited him to a concert at their school.

Suddenly, he is not going. Which may mean I am not going. Because, of course, I will be required to transport Sons #1 and 2 to this concert.

AND THEY FULLY ADMIT THE BANDS WILL PALE IN COMPARISON.

Ugh, the injustice. And to think: 12 years ago, he handed me a Ring Pop and asked me to marry him.

Waldorf on a Sunday: Do I want to go to the mall?

Let me let you in on a little secret: the Happy Boondocks is in the middle of nowhere.

The nearest not-quite-a-city, but with some amenities, is Waldorf, an hour away.

When I was a kid, growing up outside of Annapolis, we laughed at Waldorf. It was the boonies. There was nothing in Waldorf. It was the kind of place you drove through, on the way to Florida for vacation, and wondered at all the old places that Used To Be Something Special, Back In The 60s When Gambling Was Legal And Headliners Came. There are still several crappy shops and bakeries and such, inhabiting odd buildings that used to be casinos.

Then we moved to the Happy Boondocks. Waldorf instantly transformed into A Place That Has A Mall and A Red Lobster.

Honestly, I am not all that impressed by the presence of a mall or a Red Lobster. But, that is the difference between the Boondocks as we know it, and Waldorf. People actually make plans to go to Waldorf, to eat at the Olive Garden and shop at the mall.

OK, so tomorrow I will be in Waldorf. It is kind of a midway point between my house and my parents', and my mother is going to meet me there to return Sons #3 and 4, who are spending the weekend with their grandparents.

As a non-shoppy, non-materialistic person, my first inclination is to just head to the bagel store where we're meeting, grab the kids and head back home. But then again, I will have already used all that gasoline...maybe I should go a little early, and hit the mall. Because, you know, I usually only do that once a year, when I take Son #1 clothes shopping at Hot Topic. This time, I'd be alone. I could look at...I dunno, whatever catches my eye, I guess. Maybe I'll bring my camera and take pictures of the place.

Eh, if any of you are in Waldorf, tomorrow, you just may run into me. Wave. Say something. See you there! Maybe we can get Orange Julius, or something.

Hooooo, boy!

The past couple of days have been hectic. An interview. Two doctor's appointments. Several trips to take Son #1 see The Girl. Tae kwon do, three days in a row. Open Mic, last night (you didn't think I'd skip blues jam, did you?)

The Sons continue to eat us out of house and home, so I am going to the grocery store like I expect Brangelina to be handing out free diamond tennis bracelets in the parking lot, any minute. And, of course, the gym, because I am hooked on it.

As always, the dog needs walking. Because it really doesn't make a lick of difference, to him, whether he goes on the rug, on a pile of clean laundry a Son swore he put away, or outside. He could go either way. It's totally up to us. Really. He's flexible, like that.

Sons #3 and 4 have discovered the joys of bread baking. The house is full of the aroma of freshly baked bread, and the happy sounds Hubby makes when he takes a bite. It is also full of globs of bread dough, and drifts of flour and sugar and yeast. Because they think they clean up after themselves. They really do.

Although Son #1 enjoys using Hubby's bathrobe, more than his own, his REAL favorite is his comforter. Of course, once he is done with it, he'll just drop it. Like this morning---the hall bathroom has all his dirty clothes from last night AND a queen-sized comforter, on the floor. And dental floss. He also deposited a hairbrush in the box of peaches on the kitchen table. Ooogh.

All this to say, I haven't done laundry in two days, or dishes, since yesterday morning. I woke up and took a look and thought, "Hooooo, boy! I am not ready for this!"

But now that I've enjoyed my latest breakfast fad, bran flakes, and taken a moment to kvetch to the blogosphere, I feel much better.

I think I'll go clean the kitchen. Probably won't rush to eat a peach, though. They are fuzzier than is natural.

So, who was adopted, again?

Son #1 (5'10, muscular, curly hair, impulsive, bouncy, dressed perpetually in black, wants to be a cop, usually tries not to curse too much in front of his mother) and Son #2 (6'1, gangly, wavy hair, mellow, contemplative, dressed usually in white, wants to be an artist, usually tries not to say "indeed!" in front of his father) stood in front of me this morning, before it was time to leave for school.

"Mom. Which one of us was adopted, again?"

One good thing, this weekend, thanks to MySpace

Lately I've been feeling frustrated and a bit morose. Things just aren't going Precisely According To My Plans, and I am cranky about it. (Yeah, I know, Boo Freakin' Hoo).

This weekend, though, something kinda cool happened.

Ya know how sometimes you meet someone, and you know you'd like them if you got to know them? But you don't always have a chance TO get to know them?

Well, a few months ago I met someone. A friend's girlfriend. And I knew, just on sight, that I would like her. Maybe I was influenced by all the nice things he says about her, but maybe it was just recognizing her for who she is, even without a lot of data to back me up.

Anyway, the other day I posted a comment on someone's blog, and the girlfriend's friend emailed me about it. She and I had never really talked, before, beyond "Hi! Great Show!" (Her boyfriend is the singer for THAT BAND THAT I TALK ABOUT ALL THE TIME OH GOD CHRISTINE SHUT UP ALREADY ABOUT ACME BLUES COMPANY FOR THE LOVE OF CHRIST!) But we ended up emailing back and forth all weekend.

We have a lot in common. We like each other. We make each other laugh. It's great, meeting a new friend.

So,

Hi Amy! Welcome to the blog! Hope you still like me, after you read all my crap!

Wisdom From Son #2, While Son #1's Girlfriend Visits

"Ya know how they say most people only use 10% of their brains? The other 90% is being used by their junk"

Yup, he is 14. The boy knows things.

Alf's Dreaded Book Meme

I woke up at 2:30 because my dog was crapping on my bedroom rug. Naturally, I stepped in it. So I had to wash my foot. And then, you know, I was AWAKE.

So, I noticed Alf has a meme going.
The Rules:
1. Pick up the nearest book (of at least 123 pages).
2. Open the book to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the next three sentences.
5. Tag some people & post a comment here once you post it to your blog, so I can come see.

Feel free to do it, yourself. And yes, this really was the nearest book to hand. You are going to think I'm all high-minded and spiritual. Joke's on you.

"Prayer is the contact I make with God in my thoughts. It is a powerful medicine for the spirit. Prayers for guidance are perhaps the most potent of all, providing I keep myself receptive and am willing to act according to His inspiration."

Where the heck am I supposed to THINK?

My office is in a corner of the living room. It sits above the den, where the Sons play MMP games and Rock Band and watch TV.

I had an idea for a lyric, tonight, and sat to write, but the 3 Sons in the basement were making such noise I couldn't really think.

So I moved down the hall, to our bedroom. It's a little farther from the den, so those noises are somewhat muffled. Although, 3 young guys playing shooting games are just plain loud, even from the end of the hall. Shooting requires shouting, you see.

Our bedroom sits above Son #1's bedroom. So, now I am hearing slightly less shooting, but more chatting on the telephone. Because Son #1 is on the phone with That Girl pretty much all the time. He also is listening to "screamo" music. It's just...great.

There is no other place to go. So, I have my snippet of a lyric and nothing else to go with it, at this point. I think I'll try to do Something Else, for a while, and let the music float back into my head on its own. In the meantime, though, I just wish, sometimes, that I had a place to go that didn't have all this constant chatter. If I could find our recording equipment, I'd make a podcast for y'all. Because you would not believe the continuity of the cacophony, over here.

Great Moments in School Administration

Son #1's business law teacher is out, for the next few weeks. He's serving as a substitute hall monitor, while the hall monitor is on maternity leave.

It occurred to both Son #1 and myself that it would make a lot more sense to hire a substitute hall monitor, and leave his business law teacher in place, than to hire a substitute teacher for business law, and pull one of my son's best teachers out of the classroom so he can watch people walk the halls.

Because, you know, substitute teachers can monitor the halls, even if they know nothing about business law.

Black Magic Woman

I got home and Hubby was playing Black Magic Woman on bass, in the basement. So, basically, the entire house is filled with Black Magic Woman.

Blogging will resume after I am done licking hubby.

Bass...me likey.

Dude, My Mom is NOT HOT, OK?

The other night, one of my flirtin' buddies asked me if the Sons' friends had ever said I was a Hot Mom. "Because if I were 15, I would totally think you were."

I of course told him that none of my sons friends think I am hot. Mostly, of course, I was thinking that all my sons' friends have seen me at 4 am at a sleepover, when I am not only not hot, I am also not nice. BECAUSE I WANT THEM TO SLEEP. My flirtin' buddies generally see me with brushed teeth and an enthusiastic attitude.

But then I went home and asked Son #1.

"Well, actually, (one friend of his who's here a lot) has mentioned it several times, BUT JEEZ, MOM, I ASSUMED HE WAS JOKING! THAT IS DISGUSTING!"

So, now Son #1 is mortified, and my flirtin' buddy is also mortified that he is coming across as "a dirty old man."

I, however, am feeling pretty spiffy.

;)

Wear Your Stilettos Now

When I was 9, my parents celebrated their 10th anniversary with a weekend in NYC. They saw a show, and ate well, and enjoyed the hotel room, and did all sorts of touristy things. The highlight for my mother was shoe shopping.

This says a lot about my mother--she is a shoe fanatic like no one else I've ever met. It also says a lot about my dad. He took her shoe shopping, OK? Not every husband is that willing to take one for the team.

I remember her coming home with LOTS of shoes. She LOVED them. She wore them out dancing (see a familial tradition, anywhere?) and then she stopped going out. Dad hated dancing, and she didn't want to dance without him, so the shoes sat in the closet.

We called it The Shrine. She would sit in the closet and look at her shoes.

So anyway, flash forward. A couple of years ago, Mom's knee gave out. Really, she needs a replacement. She has been putting it off. But even if she gets a new knee, she can't wear those shoes again. She is stuck in flat, sensible shoes, for the rest of her life.

She cries about the shoes. She doesn't care that her knee hurts, she cares that she can't wear her sexy heels any more.

Every few months, Mom brings me a few pairs of shoes to try out. If they're not too small, they're mine. Otherwise, they go back to the Shrine.

Tonight I am going out to see ACME BLUES COMPANY OH MY GOD I CANNOT WAIT THEY ARE SO AWESOME I WILL DANCE MY ASS OFF.....

OK, but anyway, tonight I am going out. I pulled out one of Mom's pairs of NYC shoes and slipped them on. A bit loose. So I tried to adjust the heel strap.

The leather was gummy. Remember, these shoes are 31 years old. The strap broke. Dry rot.

My mother kept those shoes in the Shrine for probably 25 years. Bringing them to me was HARD for her. And now they are in the trash.

Don't let your fun dry rot, ok? Wear your stilettos while you can.

UPDATE: ACME was fantastic, as always, and I had a blast, as you knew I would. I wore a second pair of Mom's NYC shoes, and then the band played Rattlesnake Shake and I danced so hard the shoes fell apart. Spent the rest of the night in my stocking feet. I think the band felt pretty good about making music so good a woman would kill her shoes, dancing.

I am "The Man": A Parenting Epiphany

Remember when you were a teenager and your parents were all suspicious? They wouldn't let you hang out with your boyfriend in your bedroom, even though that meant you never got to have a private conversation, because your little sister kept butting in?

And no matter how much you explained that you weren't DOING anything, they still gave you that look with the one raised eyebrow, and told you, "Fine, but, you can be not DOING anything out here in the den, with your brothers"?

Remember how your younger siblings kept walking up to you and saying stupid crap, and no matter how much you complained about it your parents never stopped them? Like they had NO IDEA how frustrating and annoying and embarrassing that was?

Remember how your boyfriend's parents were a little more lax, but if they saw you making out they would look at you, their son's adoring girlfriend, like you were a complete idiot who didn't have the least instinct for self-preservation? And like you ought to hold out for a guy who at least had his own car?

As it turns out, it wasn't because they didn't understand you. It was because they understood all too well, and had no. interest. in. becoming. grandparents. yet.

So, it all makes sense. The Sons can have privacy with their girlfriends when they are old enough to sign a lease on their own place.

For Matt: A shirt and a song

Matt had an exceptionally crappy day, yesterday. I can't do a damn thing to fix any of it. But ever since he read about the shirt that Son #1's teacher thinks looks gay, he's wanted to see it. So, here it is:



And also for you, Matt, a little Reverend Horton Heat. Points to whomever can name the song first.

jtj3: The 'how we met' meme

jtj3: The 'how we met' meme

The Challenge is on, and coincidentally Hubby was telling Mr Backrub about how we met, last night, so here are 10 Things About How I Met Hubby:

We were students at UMCP.

We lived in adjacent dormitories, with a shared cafeteria.

I was on the rebound. My kinda-sorta boyfriend had left the state 2 days before. My friend Susan decided I needed to EAT SOMETHING ALREADY, so she hauled me down to the cafeteria.

We were badly dressed: I in the emerald green sweatsuit I'd had since jr high (with the unbrushed hair and depressed pallor to match), he in a red ringer t-shirt, Hawaiian shirt, blue OP corduroy shorts, tube socks with red stripes, and sneakers.

I didn't want to talk to anyone. I just wanted to sit. So when some weird guy asked if he could "invade our personal space", we basically told him he could do whatever he wanted, but we weren't going to talk to him.

Hubby was NOT the weird guy. He was WITH the weird guy.

The moment I saw him, I heard a voice in my head say, "There's your husband. You better hope he's nice."

I couldn't think of a way to keep him talking to me, so I ate off of his plate. (You can't leave a woman while she's eating your grapes.)

Hubby left the table with everyone but Weird Guy. Weird Guy asked me out. And I went, in hopes of getting to know Hubby. It worked.

After our first date, the following week, Hubby told me, "I can't date you anymore, ever."

We've been married nearly 20 years.

3:10 to WHAT, now?

The critics love 3:10 to Yuma. My parents loved 3:10 to Yuma. Yuma, Yuma, Yuma, it is great and we much watch it.

We rented it.

Not to spoil things for those of you who haven't seen it, but...the ending just made. no. sense.

Son #2 watched it after Hubby and I finished, and he agrees. WHAT WERE THEY THINKING, with that ending?

But, hey, feel free to love it. After all, my parents and every critic on the planet thinks Hubby, Son #2, and I are morons.