Sunday, December 31, 2006
Hey, I've updated my photos over there in the sidebar. The old ones have retired to the archives, where they will spend the remainder of their days playing shuffleboard and eating pudding.
Sunday, December 31, 2006
I know, I know. You didn't study, but you'll have to take the quiz, anyway.
Bwahahaha! I just took my own quiz and got one wrong!
Sunday, December 31, 2006
Happy New Year!
While you marauders are out drinking yourselves silly this evening, I will be attending the 5th (or so) annual Lee Family Yulebach at the home of my brother and his family in St. Peter, Minnesota.
The tradition of the Yulebach began some 35 years ago in Interlachen Park, my parents' neighborhood in Hopkins. Every year, the neighborhood association would hire a horse to pull a big platform-on-wheels behind it. Santa would always show up, and he'd tell the horse to stop at every corner to pick up all the neighborhood kids and haul them around. After we'd ridden around the neighborhood long enough, Santa and the horse would deliver us to the park, where there would be ice skating and cider and cocoa and kids poking each other in the eye with flaming sticks.
So, JohnHenry heard about this several years back, and decided to stage his own Yulebach at his own home. JohnHenry's Yulebach events differ somewhat from the traditional Interlachen Park ones. For example, the JohnHenry Yulebach includes the following:
The blowing of the horn to recognize the arrival of the New Year in various cities across the globe, beginning at 5:00 p.m., every hour, on the hour.
A huuuuuge bonfire, complete with hot dogs and s'mores.
Fireworks, sometimes big ones, often ignited by being thrown into the bonfire by one unruly neighbor kid.
Sledding on an icy luge track, but not this year because there is no snow.
The building of a snow castle, but not this year because there is no snow.
A torch run, where kids and adults alike run through St. Peter with flaming logs held above their heads while the townspeople shout stop that!
UPDATE: It's snowing in St. Peter!
Sunday, December 31, 2006
Brrrr. Everywhere I look, and believe me, I'm trying hard not to look, I see images of Saddam Hussein with a noose around his neck.
I know, I know; he's a butcher. He tortured people. He took many, many, many innocent lives, and his own people sentenced him to death and carried out that sentence. Families of his victims say they needed this in order to move on, and in order to let go of their fear.
Something about hanging a guy as punishment for his extreme cruelty seems off, though. I guess that's what "an eye for an eye" is all about, but it reminds me of parents who bite their children to punish them for biting.
I'd like to think that, in almost 2007, there's a better way. Well, there you go. Another reason why the US of A is better than Iraq: death by lethal injection. Oh, boy.
Okay. I'll get back to making fun of people and telling you about my caulk now.
Saturday, December 30, 2006
Minnesota Fashion Exclusive
Now, I'm not saying that I'm an expert on fashion, but I am sort of an expert on Minnesota fashion, and I can almost guarantee that we have the exclusive rights to this look—suspenders with a sweatshirt, AND a belt:
My patriotic husband says I may not ridicule this man's fashion sense, because he is a veteran, as evidenced by the U.S. Marine Corps emblems on his spiffy suspenders. I see his point, but the man is wearing suspenders. With a sweatshirt. AND the sweatshirt features the logo of St. Olaf College, while he was attending a University of Minnesota Golden Gophers basketball game at Williams Arena on the U of M campus.
So, thanks for defending me, but your suspenders, my good sir, are ridiculous.
But you know what isn't ridiculous? College basketball games. As much as I love my Wolves, I'd never been to a Gophers game before. Let me tell you, there is so much electricity in that place that your hair stands on end. EVERYONE in the building is fired up, even though it's winter break and most of the students aren't there. Lots. And Lots. of fun.
Saturday, December 30, 2006
The sneaky peeky camera
Last year, about this time, I purchased a pretty dang fabulous camera, the Canon Rebel XT or XP or ESP or ADD or FTP or whatever the letters after it are, and I also bought a swwweeeet 400 mm telephoto lens. My mission: sneaky photos.
You see, I'd been using my trusty ol' Canon point-and-shoot camera to take photos of unsuspecting victims of my blog ridicule. If you've been reading for long, you might recall this gem from a Twins' game in 2005:
Not long after that, I encountered this atomic wedgie in the grocery store, in front of the cottage cheese, ironically enough:
And then there was this, to illustrate my diatribe on inappropriate attire for the workplace, remember? Love the strapless sundress, but the rubber flip-flops are the crown.
So…while I love love love my very nice digital SLR camera for serious stuff, and especially for pictures of my excellent nephew and niece, it hasn't turned out to be quite what I'd hoped for taking the sneaky photos. I really miss having a little camera that I can just whip out and pretend to be monkeying around with the battery or something, and then whooooops! The shutter fires, just like that, and whattya know? I've "accidentally" taken a photo of the 24-inch zipper on your massive mom pants! Or better yet, I've made a little movie about it:
I think I need a new, smaller camera, don't you? And perhaps a printer, as well, as I'm spending way too much time uploading my photos to have them printed at National, or Walgreens.
Saturday, December 30, 2006
Lookie! Look what was in my Christmas stocking! Tickets! Tickets to the Wolves game! And the seats are so close to the floor that sitting there allowed me to take this picture, without even using my long sneaky lens:
Well, hello, Mr. Kevin Garnett. Enjoy your pregame powder.
Oh, and who have we here? I'm just minding my own business, taking a picture of my own husband…
Is that you, Kevin McHale? Is that you yelling at the refs, by name? Why, yes it is. He was close enough to hear me saying to Pat, "awwww, wouldn't it be great if Ray Allen could be on the Timberwolves?!" But we're not bitter.
Such a fun night, and the Timberwolves blew out the Sonics by 19 points, I think, and we got to see Mike Wilkes, too! I miss that guy.
I'm really going to get back into this blogging stuff. No, really. I am. Soon.
Friday, December 29, 2006
Disclaimer: I'm not saying that this woman should take fashion advice from me. I'm not saying she shouldn't be allowed to wear her hair however she wants. I'm not saying that she does not perform her Target Center ushering duties beautifully, other than blocking the view of of the floor for paid ticketholders. I'm not saying she's not a perfectly wonderful human being. I'm just saying that her hair is KARAAZY!
Friday, December 29, 2006
Reality hits
Weellllll, then. Wasn't that fun? All that buying of stuff and the giving of the stuff and the stuffing of the stockings and the stocking of the pantry with all things yummy and special? And expensive?
Yeah, well, it's almost January, and January is Spending Regret Month, because January is when all the credit card bills roll in from Christmas. Seriously, I think half the toys are broken or worn out before they're even paid for!
Don't worry. February will come, and we won't be eating beans for dinner forever.
Sunday, December 24, 2006
From a puppy who does not appreciate being forced the bear the indignity of the Santa hat:
Saturday, December 23, 2006
Caulk factory
My neighbor, Brad, told me the most excellent story. It seems that Brad's most stressful job was that of Caulk Tube Filler in a caulk factory. NO KIDDING. You can imagine my rapt attention to this one, as he described grabbing a hose from over his head, then shoving the nozzle of that hose into the ass end of an open caulk tube, and which point the caulk would squirt out of the hose and into the tube. The empty tubes were on a sort of lazy susan apparatus, which turned automatically at intervals, requiring speed, dexterity, and accuracy from the Caulk Tube Filler. Sometimes Brad's aim would be off, and he'd end up splorting and entire tubesworth of caulk all over the floor, and wasn't that a fine mess!
Saturday, December 23, 2006
Needless traffic hazard
On the way home from the Timberwolves game the other night, there was a special notice on one of those signs over highway 35W. It announced that there would be increased DWI enforcement through January 2nd. Now, this ticked me off, because I was drunk, and I didn't appreciate the distraction. I can keep the car nicely aimed between the lines, as long as there are no distractions, like light-up signs over the highway. I looked up to read it, and when I did, I lost my concentration and swerved into the left lane, causing a 35 car pile-up that killed several innocent people. A lot of lives could be saved by turning off that sign.
Saturday, December 23, 2006
There is one guy in the NBA who would never, ever, ever, not never commit a flagrant foul. It's not his style; not in his nature. And yet, somehow, he managed to be charged with one Wednesday night. One time, I got to sit at courtside, right at the end of the bench, and the harshest thing Mad Dog said all night was, "Awwww, heck no." I can't seem to find anything about what behavior warrants a flagrant 1, but as I understand it, a flagrant foul is mean, and has more to do with hurting the other guy that with getting the ball or preventing a basket. That did not happen, and it makes me stomp and say no fair, especially because Madsen seemed to feel really badly about it.
While looking for data on flagrant fouls, I was reminded that sports writers, in general, are a mopey, whiney, negative bunch, and that's why I don't read much of that stuff.
Pat McDonough just committed a fragrant foul.
Saturday, December 23, 2006
I grew up being told, and believing wholeheartedly, that the USA is the greatest country in the world. I believed that, really, until I was in my late thirties. Never stopped to question it. Of course, like many people, I've become quite disillusioned over the past few years.
A guy I work with passed his test to become a US citizen on Wednesday. I'm thrilled for him. It makes me remember that, although our country is pretty messed up right now, it's still a heckuva lot better than most other countries. Part of what makes it great is people just like Chi, who come here determined to make a better life for themselves, and to make the US better by being here.
Saturday, December 23, 2006
Cute puppy alert
Rose came home just for a few minutes on Tuesday night. She brought her small dog, who was sporting a festive red turtleneck, adorned with a sparkly green Christmas tree. There was gift wrapping stuff all over the place, and for some unknown reason, little Stanley was petrified of one particular spool of silver ribbon. As soon as he noticed it sitting there, he jumped three feet in the air (six times his height), and ran behind the ottoman. He'd get brave and peek out at the ribbon, then slip back to hiding. Then he'd peek out from the other side. He finally got brave enough to slo-o-o-o-o-wly crawl out, GI Joe-style, to within five feet of the ribbon. He stared at it for a few seconds, then barked at it and ran back to hide.
Now that's a cute puppy!
Friday, December 22, 2006
There is a 72% likelihood that I will be grocery shopping at midnight, which is about twenty minutes away. This is the last chance to shop in an atmosphere that is not similar to that area of snow monkeys at the Minnesota Zoo. If I wait until tomorrow, I'll be just one of many, swinging from tree-to-tree, picking bugs off my fellow shoppers and eating them as I screech my way through the produce aisle.
But then again, there is a 28% chance that I won't go tonight, anyway. I am tired. It's been quite the week, as indicated by the lack of blogging.
Firstively, work was really busy, and really stressful. Well, okay, it was as stressful as my job gets, which, when you put it on a scale of 1 to 10, 1 being Valleyfair Train Gate Monitor and 10 being Air Traffic Controller on 9/11, is about 1.6 on my most stressful day, which happens twice per year. But once all that stress gets to be almost too much to bear (approaching level 2, Ground Floor Window Washer), then along come three dogs in Santa hats, and alllll that tension completely dissolves.
Seriously. If every office had dogs in Santa hats, there would be no need for health insurance providers to cover mental health. Two minutes of scratching doggy ears does wonders for the ol' attitude.
Friday, December 22, 2006
Behold! I bring unto you glad tidings of my caulk!
Last night was our annual Christmas light viewing expedition, where Kelly and I drive around with Peggy and Halie and oooh and ahhh about the beautifully decorated homes in Burnsville, Apple Valley, and Lakeville while we sing Christmas carols and chat. Last night we mostly snarked about the tacky displays of gaudiness, because it just ain't the same when we ain't gots no snow. Also, instead of Christmas carols, we mostly sang the song from this, which is sure to become a classic. At least in the McDonough household. Don't click that at work, and Jim and Joy, don't click it at all. You'll be scarred for life.
So before our snarky tour, we dined at the finest establishment in Apple Valley—Chipotle. It was there that I was given what is perhaps, no, definitely, the greatest gift I've ever received. Check it out:
Isn't it fabulous? Peggy made me a hot pink glittery gun, for my caulk! So now my caulk is girly. Girly caulk! I am overwhelmed with its utter perfection. Truly.
I don't even need anymore Christmas. It's all downhill from here.
Sunday, December 17, 2006
Things I hate, volume 5892
"No problem" as a response to "thank you."
When I say thank you, please don't respond with "no problem." When I said thanks, it wasn't to imply that I though whatever you did might have been a problem for you. I appreciate what you did/said/gave, but I didn't think I'd caused you a problem.
If I'd caused you a problem, I would have said "I'm sorry," not "thank you."
Saturday, December 16, 2006
Something I very love is called hosting a dinner party. LOVE that. And tonight, I get to do it. The table is set, the pitcher of pamplemousse martinis is in the fridge, and I'm about to make the beef crustades.
This has kept me distracted from blogging, though. Perhaps I need to have a blogger dinner party next time! Would you come? How fun would that be?!
Thursday, December 14, 2006
I apologize. I have rudely ignored your comments and email for the past two days, and I am sorry! I will respond, eventually, I promise! I have just been so screamin' busy with the job and the Christmas and the decorating and the concerts and the socializing. But I will catch up! Soon! I promise!
Thurssday, December 14, 2006
As much as I adore basketball games, I do not care one whit about the business of basketball. Salary caps? Don't care. Contracts? How much money that guy makes compared to the contribution to his team? Boring. Second round draft pick minimum wage? Couldn't possible be less interested. I just like to watch the game, okay? And I like that a lot.
The husband who doesn't read my blog is rambling on and on and on about the business side of the NBA, and he thinks I'm paying attention, because he can't see me behind the Christmas tree.
Should I tell him I don't care? Or should I continue random mmmhmmms and ahhhhhs?
Monday, December 11, 2006
Somebody help me, please, before I shoot the TV with a gun
Well, good heavens. I just had a flashback to the days when my dad would find me watching Gilligan's Island and he'd bellow GET IT OFF!!! not because it was offensive, or corrupting me, but because it was just such low quality TV and it gave him a headache.
A moment ago, I found myself yelling GET IT OFF!!! at nobody in particular, when a particularly whiny-voiced thug was rapping away about. . .something I didn't really understand, but I think he might have been telling us about his boygina and its unique talents. Definitely headache-inducing, and now I know just how my dad felt.
Monday, December 11, 2006
There was a time, not that many years ago, when this time of year I would wear only seasonal attire. Exclusively. As in, a different hideous Christmas sweater every day.
Then, in 2001, I went to my 20th high school reunion and reacquainted myself with old friends. For several months, we'd meet for coffee on Saturday mornings.
One fine Saturday morning, my holiday wardrobe was suddenly, unequivocally, completely and thoroughly retired, during a single conversation over coffee.
One of the guys in the group was telling the story of The Christmas Tour. See, he and his partner had bought an old farmhouse out in the western 'burbs, and they fixed it all up purdy. They are both interior designers, so I'm sure it was fabulous, and it ended up being one of the homes on a tour that wealthy suburban ladies would take as a Fun Christmas Activity.
He went on to describe the buses that would arrive at their home each night, and the hoards of liquored-up, coiffed and perfumed Wayzata matrons that would spill out the doors and shuffle inside. He described their striped blush, their wrinkly lips, their big hair with even bigger red bows, and their diamond jingle bell earrings, and then he went on to entertain us with descriptions of their sweaters, with fur collars and cats and penguins and lights that really light up and little buttons that play tinny computer music when you push them. There were long sweaters with bells on the bottoms, cardigans with plaid scotty dogs on the pockets, and V-neck vests with all manner of snowflakey embroidery.
Oh. My. The horrors. He was describing my festive holiday wardrobe!
So I slunk out of there, sped home, and took all my Christmas sweaters to the Goodwill.
My favorite was the angel vest. Not that I particularly liked its sparkly blue and whiteness, or the embroidered gold snowflakes and pearl buttons. What I loved about it was how my children HATED it. Yes, it was an instrument of torture, and I was sorry to see it go.
So, the point of this post was to show you the Holiday sweater angel vest replica I created at myholidaysweater.com. I've emailed it to myself twice, and if it shows up, I'll post it. Meanwhile, take a gander! Go and make yourself a hideous sweater, huh?
Monday, December 11, 2006
Assailing us with ass ailment
Sometimes Rose's puppy gets a random case of itchy butt. When that happens, he performs a maneuver where he lowers his ass to the ground, kicks his hind feet in the air, and uses his front feet to propel himself forward, thus dragging his itchy hole across the scratchy grass (hopefully) or carpet (regrettably).
Every time I drive by this particular inflatable lawn decoration, I'm reminded of little Stanley and his butt troubles:
Sunday, December 10, 2006
Last Thursday was an extremely fun day, and I've just been too busy to blog about it. My very good friend Lisa and I went to see Twelve Angry Men at the State Theater, which I would recommend, but you're too late, unless you live somewhere besides Minneapolis, because it's gone already. If it comes to your city, go! It's really interesting theater. Not something I'd usually see, because there is no singing! And dancing! And flamboyance! And spectacle! Instead, the entire play is dialog, and much of it has the actors' backs toward the audience. There is quite a bit of movement around the stage, considering that the play consists of one long scene. All this, and it kept us on the edge of our seats. Really, really great theater. AND, my boss's brother is a real live actor, and he plays Juror #4. Cool, no?
Before the play, we engaged in one of Lisa's favorite activities, which is known as peeling the exoskeleton from dead sea creatures and devouring the flesh within. She loves that shit, as do I, really, and so we went to Figlio to do it. Mmmmmmm. Stone crab claws. And check this out! They serve them on a bed of glowy ice cubes!!! That calls for multiple exclamation points!
Friday, December 8, 2006
This world is going to hell in a ham basket. Yes, I realize that's not how the saying goes, but it wasn't all that long ago that I thought it did. As in, where are we going and why is there a ham in here with us?
Kelly and I popped over to the Mall of America. Are you aware that, within the Mall of America, lives the world's largest gingerbread house? For real. It appears to be a regular wood frame structure with gingerbread siding. It smells delicious, which is what enticed us to make the donation that allowed us to step inside.
Sadly, even the joyful whimsey of a gingerbread house full of elves has been ruined by suburban gang blight. We walked in just in time to witness a crime. A bakery elf snapped during a prison flashback, and plunged a frosting knife into the heart of a Gingerbread Man, killing him.
He leaves behind a gingerbread wife and two gingerbread boys.
Saturday, December 9, 2006
How is the shopping coming along?
Oh, boy. I've been so busy working at my part time job that I am just a weeeee bit behind on the ol' Christmas shopping. It's okay, though. It's not the gifts that make the season, after all. And like my friend Marilyn says, it doesn't matter if I'm ready for Christmas, because Christmas is ready for me. So true.
Still. I would like to have gifts for all my favorite people purchased, wrapped, and under the tree very soon. There is still time to shop online, if I do it NOW.
 Oh my. Hyperventillating here! Last night, on our walk through the skyway back to the car from the Target Center, we saw a billboard advertising these fabulous shoes—Minnesota Timberwolves shoes! They are dorky as ALL GET OUT, and if I owned a pair, I would wear them anyway, because I love my Timberwolves enough to dork myself out like that.
Okay. Enough shopping. I have work to do at home today. If you see me shopping or blogging, or worse, blogging about shopping anymore, kick me in the pants, would ya?
Saturday, December 9, 2006
How 'bout those Timberwolves?
You know what I like? Watching the Wolves win. But even more than that, I like a good, back-and-forth basketball game. Lately we've had both.
Know what else I enjoy? When sports columnists write positive articles instead of the usual whininess and jabs and speculation. Three times this week, I've seen articles where the writer used the phrase "three-headed monster" to describe KG, Ricky Davis, and Mike James. I dig that.
Another thing…Allen Iversen saying he'd like to come to Minnesota. Now, that would be fun to see, if we didn't have to give anybody up. If I get to choose, we'll keep the team as it is now, thanks. Things are good.
One more pleasant basketball thing has to do with crossing Nicollet Mall juuuuust before the cop brings out the barricade for the Holidazzle parade. It was *that* close.
Friday, December 8, 2006
Scoping out Wile E. Coyote
Remember how eagle-eyed Mr. McDonough saw a "wolf" in our driveway? And we just assumed he was drunk at 9 a.m. on a Thursday? And then he saw a TV news story that there are coyotes here in the 'burbs?
Well. I have become a tad obsessed. I mean, could it really be? Coyotes? In Burnsville?
So tonight, on the way home from the basketball game (Wolves win!), I started to think about the bunnies. Where are the bunnies? Until recently, I could count on seeing two or three rabbits scurrying across the lawn every single time I drove into the driveway. Tonight it dawned on me that they have disappeared.
Coyote chow? Or do rabbits hibernate? What about coyotes? Are they nocturnal?
I'm thinking about asking for night vision goggles for Christmas, so I can see the National Geographic-style carnage that is undoubtedly taking place in my front yard every night after the sun goes down.
Oh my gosh. Lightbulb. Remember the eviscerated mouse in the garage? Coyote victim, maybe?
Thursday, December 7, 2006
Would it be wrong to wear light blue footed, peanut-butter stained pajamas to work today? Because I'm having a tough time convincing myself to take them off an put on grownup lady business clothes. I put them back on after my shower, and there was my mistake. Now I don't want to give up the warm snuggly comfort. Not that I want to stay home, or go back to bed; I don't. Because I am busy at work, and it's the fun kind of busy, but can't I be busy and productive in pajamas?
Tonight after work I am going directly to Lisa's to pick her up, and we are going out for stone crab claws, and then to see Twelve Angry Men at the State Theater. Mmmmm, theater. My favorite.
Wednesday, December 6, 2006
Heh heh heh (Beavis laugh)
Pat's friend Michael just called to tell him a funny little story. Michael was on an airplane, and Andy Dick happened to be on the same airplane. When the airplane landed and everybody got off, there was a limo driver waiting for Andy Dick. He was holding a sign that said "A. Dick."
I don't know why I'm reminded of this now, but did I blog about that time when Pat called me at work and swore he'd just seen a wolf in our driveway? In our suburban, not-far-from-a-major-city driveway, at 9:00 a.m.? We at the office had a nice guffaw over his obvious lack of wildlife identification skilz. So tonight on the news, there was a story about not wolves, buy coyotes here in the 'burbs, and Pat was all, "that's him! That's him! That's the guy I saw in the driveway!" when they showed a picture.
Maybe the coyotes will eat the woodchucks.
Tuesday, December 5, 2006
It's 9:30 p.m., and I haven't so much as checked my email.
I love this time of year so much. It's so busy at work, and so busy at home with Christmas and parties and all the festivities, but good, energizing busy.
This would be a good time to say, once again, that I sooooooo love my job. I work for the highest quality human beings, at a company that makes stuff that causes people to feel good or happy or amused or inspired. Not that there isn't some stress; there certainly can be, but it's bearable because it's just such a great place to be, most days. And I get to do mostly stuff I like to do, with only a little bit of stuff I hate. Not too shabby! And I'm not just saying that because one of my three bosses stumbles by my blog once in a while, either!
Which reminds me. Today on the radio, I heard that people who make less than $50,000 per year are ten times more likely to give their boss a Christmas gift than people who make $100,000 or over. So it's looking pretty good for all three of my bosses!
Today after work, I went to Target and engaged in an activity known as Getting Carried Away With the Dinner Party, which I had been warned against by the husband who does not read my blog. It couldn't be helped. I want a silvery table. And I didn't have silvery stuff. And I only have sets of dishes that go up to 12. I am having 14 at my party. What's a girl to do? Buy some new plates, that's what. And silverware, because I hate our old stuff and the new stuff was on sale. And it's Target. Not expensive.
Okay. Done justifying. Off to email, and to see if you guys left me any of your wiseass comments, which I very love.
Tuesday, December 5, 2006
She is sweet. She's cute. She is respectful and kind to her mama. She gets good grades (oh my gosh, I cannot believe I haven't bragged about that here. I'm so proud because she worked soooooo hard!). She hardly ever makes me want to stab her in the eye, but sometimes, like in the morning at 6:00, when her alarm has been going off since 5:30? I could easily stab my sweet daughter, if that would get her the HELL out of bed and into the shower so she's not late, yet again.
A new term started at school yesterday. If she has ten absences in any one class, she doesn't get credit for it. Three "tardies" equal one absence. Last trimester, she had foods first hour. Between absences and tardies? Nine absences. Just. snuck. by.
I just found something that may save my sanity. It's Snoozester, a wake-up call service, sort of like what they have in hotels, only they call you at home, and keep calling if you don't wake up! I am going to subscribe right now, so that tomorrow I can sleep in until 6:15.
When we took Rose to college orientation, I snorted at the moms who were concerned that their college freshmen would oversleep and miss class. Never had I imagined anything so preposterous as an 18-year-old who can't be responsible for getting up in the morning.
Now I get it.
Tuesday, December 5, 2006
Happy Birthday Eve, my Monkey Pox
Six years ago tonight, I put both girls to bed, and told one of them to finally go to sleep and do not get out of bed again, young lady. Then five minutes later, I got both girls OUT of their beds and into the car and on the way to St. Peter in the name of MISSY'S WATER BROKE!
Oooooh. I have goose bumps thinking about it. I got to be right there to welcome my niece into the world. I was the first non-medical type to touch her, and let me tell you, that is one of the greatest, most magical, most moving and HUGE events of my life. Seeing that baby, freshly delivered from heaven. . .well, there aren't words, but I can't think about it without being overwhelmed by its magnitude, its greatness, its importance. I saw her take her first breath and utter her first sound, and I got to look right into her eyes and sing to her. I sang her Once Upon a Dream from Sleeping Beauty, and I really felt as if I'd always known her. Was there really a world without Sophie? I don't remember one.
Step in front of a train for her? Or into traffic? Or off a cliff? Why, certainly. Does she need a kidney? Or a lung? Eyeball? Where do I sign up? I'd even eat a black walnut if she asked me to.
Happy birthday, my beautiful smart good-at-everything Sophia. You couldn't possibly be more loved that you are.
Monday, December 4, 2006
So, Kelly is 15. Kelly has a MySpace. For a long time, I didn't let her have one, then I relented, under the condition that I have her password and access to poke around whenever I feel like it.
Mostly, I use that password to log in and post funny movies, and then bulletins so everybody knows to come and see Kelly lip-synching She Bangs.
Kelly has a really, really good sense of humor, for a 15-year-old girl, because I don't have to take her to therapy after I do this. She actually laughs.
She and I are really very close, and she tells me lots of things that her friends don't tell their mothers. Still, I'm absolutely certain that she doesn't tell me everything, and that's as it should be. I'm her mama, not her friend, and there are some subjects that ideas that friends should work out together, without the mama. I'm probably only cool with that because she's a good kid (I didn't say perfect!) with decent friends and she's proven herself as trustworthy as a teenager can be. For these reasons, I really don't read her MySpace much, other than her profile, which anybody can read without a password. I like to keep track of her friends, too. Nothing they like more than riding in the back seat of Kelly's mom's car, and hearing Kelly's mom say, "Hey, I notice you have a song from RENT on your MySpace! I love RENT!"
If I thought Kelly might be in trouble of some sort, I might use a software program to keep track of all her activities while she's on MySpace. But I won't, unless she starts being a pain in my ass.
Sunday, December 3, 2006
Good heavens. This thing is three miles long! Les tagged me, though, and I'm nothing if not a good sport, so I'm gonna do it. I'm going to put it on a separate page, though, in order to leave room for more obnoxious movies and news about my caulk.
Here we go. . .
Sunday, December 3, 2006
This afternoon, I was having a conversation with my mom and my brother about the upcoming 70th anniversary of my dad's birth. We were talking about various ways we might surprise him with some sort of fabulous gift, or maybe a festive party.
The problem with the idea of having a party is that all his friends keep keeling over dead. They're dropping like flies.
JohnHenry was listening in on this converstion, and excitedly announced that he had an idea for a way to surprise Grandpa:
"Take him to a retirement home!"
Saturday, December 2, 2006
Hey Target Apple Valley Customer Service Counter staff
I'm sorry I inconvenienced you this morning.
You see, I needed change, because I had to make a few phone calls. Yes, I already had my cell phone to my ear. You see, I had been on hold with the airline that canceled my flight for over 40 minutes by that point, and I didn't want to lose my spot in line by answering the calls that were coming in from my husband, the office, and my boss. I needed to call these people back, you see, and so I needed to use your pay phone.
And by the way, how long have pay phones cost fifty cents?
So, when I ask you politely, and apologetically for having my cell phone to my ear, if I might get change at your completely deserted, 8 a.m. counter, I really don't expect the question to cause such debate and consternation among the three of you.
Uhhh, can we do that?
We ain't really supposed ta.
How much ya need?
I answered that I needed quarters for the. . .but you cut me off.
Oh, quarters. That ain't much. I suppose that'd be okay.
Thank you for the change. But was it really necessary to keep telling me that you're not supposed to "give out change," and that you'll only do it for me just this one time, but next time I shouldn't expect the same courtesy? Really?
Oh, and when I tell you that I'm SO sorry that I've inconvenienced the three of you SO much, you're response of oh, that's okay really isn't appropriate, because you see, I was using what is called sarcasm.
Friday, December 1, 2006
No business trip for me today!
My flights were both canceled, then rescheduled for tomorrow, but since my meeting is this afternoon, that wasn't real helpful.
So now I find myself in the glorious situation known as Unscheduled Day. Whee! From the airport, I went directly to Target, and now I'm heading toward Ikea for lunch and shopping with my neighborhood lady friends. Turns out to be a fun day, but I was really looking forward to this particular trip because I was sooo well prepared, and I had exciting and happy news to deliver. I love delivering that kind of news, dammit! And I have Starbuck's cards for them! And I got my nails done so I was all ready for the pointing.
Shopping and lunch is good, though. And the Nuggets are in town tonight, too, and Carmello would have missed me if he'd looked up to find my seat empty.
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