Just A Little On The Side

Mama Mia!

2008-08-02T20:26:00.005-04:00

A few weeks ago I was feeling blue and bored and it was a million degrees and the obvious solution was to take myself off to the movie theater. There I would be not bored, chilled like a popsicle possibly very cheered up. Opening that day were The Dark Knight and Mama Mia! Yeah, that's not even a toss-up I hate those stupid Batman/Spiderman/Fantastic Four movies. I have never seen Mama Mia! as a musical and I don't know ABBA, but it looked fun and seemed perfect.

It was. It was not good. It was fun. See, there's a difference.

The acting was so-so, the singing also mostly so-so, but the spirit was fun. And that ABBA music, that shit is unrelentingly upbeat- you can not be in the least bit sad with that music around. You can be silly and dramatic but only in the most comical and over-the-top way not genuinely sad.

The music and the story were fun. But for me, the women in the movie were the real focus, their relationships with each other made the movie sparkle. Having Julie Waters and Christine Baranski egging on Meryl, dragging her kicking and screaming into having fun and letting go, those are my kind of friends. I have friends like that, they're the ones who stop by with a pint of ice cream or a bottle of wine and let you whine and complain about your latest woes. Then somehow you are hysterical with laughter, all the mundane drops away and you just enjoy the moment.

Celebrating those friendships. The ones that start out when you're a kid, or a drunk college student or just because you work in the same office but that stick, grow, stay and get better over time, that seemed to be the whole point of this movie. Or if not the point, than the soul of this movie. What our friends, and specifically, what our girlfriends do for us is the key. They know the worst, bring out the best, let us be silly, share our burdens and sometimes dance around to ABBA in funny outfits.

Amen, sisters, amen.

The photo is from the LA Times.

A Rare Aggravation

2008-08-01T10:23:00.004-04:00

Generally the little store owned by the Three Z's is a peaceful and lovely place to work. Nice customers, interesting people, and rarely is anyone disgruntled. It is not all that unusual to have some well, off-beat folks visit. Mostly they are sweet and nice, but every so often the more off-the-wall oddball visits. While working at the Three Z's shop yesterday...

Random Dude: That is going to kill you.
Me: *Looking for imminent death and seeing none* What?
Random Dude: The Diet Coke. It's going to kill you.
Me: Uh, thanks. Yeah, it's not good for me. *Looks skeptically at the tiny 12 oz bottle of DC*
Random Dude: Yeah, like it is going to destroy your health.
Me: Well, it's just about my last vice, so I sort of cling to having one a day still.
Random Dude: It's not good for you. I bet if you stop drinking it you will feel so much better. Like, when people ask me for health advice I always say that they should stop drinking Diet Coke. You should drink something else instead. Like coffee. Drink coffee all day long. Or regular Coke. Or (lists 400 beverages). Anything is better than Diet Coke. It's going to kill you.
Me: Thanks.
Random Dude: Lectures about the perils of Diet Coke....again.
Me: Thanks. *thinking, SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUPOHMYGODSHUTUP!!!!!*

Random, preachy, annoying, irrelevant and unsolicited advice is perhaps my least favorite thing. Ever.

New York Trip- Yankees Game And A Flat

2008-07-29T23:04:00.006-04:00

As part of the celebrations of Brooklyn and Ruth's birthdays we took in a Yankee game. Now, let's pause for a second and just admire my wide circle of friends, the diversity and charm. Yes, it's true, I'm friends with Yankee fans. More than one!

Ruth has a job with connections (of the non-mob variety) and as a perk she can go to Yankees games a few times a year. It is always a crap-shoot as to what kind of seats you will get. Last time we were along the 3rd base line and about 25 rows up. Pretty good. But that was nothing compared to this time! This time we were spoiled rotten. A fitting final visit to the hallowed halls of Yankee Stadium before they tear it down this winter. This time we were ushered behind the barricades to a private entrance. We didn't have wait in line, get stepped on, wind through long security lines and up the endless concourse ramps. Nope, no riff-raff mingling for us- we got a private entrance with friendly staff greeting us, a brief wait in a plush lobby before a ride up a private elevator- with an operator. Seriously, we had an operator for our elevator. Ha!Our seats were just over from where the press sits, directly beside home plate on the 3rd base line. This photo was taken using no zoom. That's our view. Also, our seats were cushioned and we had a waitress who brought us our orders of bad-for-us food and treats. A waitress- we were fancy-pants indeed.

The Yankees won- no good for me, but a nice birthday present for Ruth. And then we headed back towards Queens. This is where our night took a little detour.

While driving at speed along the Cross Bronx a little before midnight Ruth's tire blew. We were right by an exit and opted to ride on the flat to the top of the ramp rather than risk death on the Cross Bronx. There are worse places to break down, but you'd be hard pressed to name one. I am very glad that there were three of us together and that Ruth wasn't on her own.

We called for roadside assistance, but it was going to be an hour. Great. We were at a good spot, off the ramp, beside the road, protected from traffic. Morrigan, a champion tire changer, decided to try changing the tire rather than wait. We agreed and set to work. As Morrigan began to work her tire-changing mojo we were approached by a man who did not have a reassuring appearance. He politely asked if we needed a hand and proceeded to wrench the last lug nut loose for us. He wished us good luck and wandered away. Several cars, a mini van and a motorcycle stopped to ask if we were OK and offer advice about 24-hour tire places, gas stations and delis in the area. The rest of the cars just rolled by not bothering us in any way. The only surprise about who didn't stop? The Episcopal Church van- thanks, guys. At least they weren't from the Good Samaritan church... geez. As usual, the good and best of the human nature and New York in particular was on display rather than the worst.

Morrigan got the flat changed out in about 30 minutes. It would have probably taken her about 10 but we had the world's worst jack. Ever.

Wanna see where we broke down?Irony, thy name is Bronx.

New York Trip- The Met

2008-07-28T16:53:00.015-04:00

Lordy, Lordy, people, it was a crazy awesome week this past seven days. First, Morrigan and I went down to New York to visit Ruth and Brooklyn for their birthdays. Keeping my nearly unemployed budget in mind we went to The Met. I had never been - I know, shocking!- and we had a blast. The art was amazing- of course. The place is huuuuge, and the architecture of the actual Met is pretty cool.

We saw the Greek and Roman sculptures and then went across to the Temple of Dendur. It was very, very, very cool. I love Egyptology and it was very amazing to see all of the artifacts and the temple and tombs. The mummies were fascinating, and the blue hippo was so darn cute I wanted to take him home. The temple has all sorts of carved grafitti from where people visited the temple over the last 300 years. Napoleon's troops and wealthy Brits and other Europeans on holiday carved their names and dates into the temple.

It is sort of weirdly cool to see someone took the time to carve- quite nicely I might add- their name and date into a piece of stone in Egypt so far from home. On the other hand, they defaced this gorgeous temple. Caring not at all that to scratch their own name into stone they obliterated a history deeper and more important than theirs could ever be.

I even found a poem about it by Shane George. He, too came to The Met and saw the Temple and was both fascinated and annoyed by these graffiti artists of another era.

Next we took a spin through the Superhero Fashion exhibit which was nothing of what I expected. Cool, but I wasn't dying to linger there.

We did a quick sprint through the American wing, but it was mostly under construction. Then we toured the modern art section. It was a mix of things that were amazing and things that make me say, is that art? Seriously, art? There was a giant, two-storey high painting of Chairman Mao. It was very impressive. This is me as Chairman Mao's tie. Unfortunately taken with Ruth's blackberry, so it's teeny. But funny.

They had an exhibit of Jeff Koons work- on the roof of The Met. So up we went. Did you know they have a little cafe up there and you can enjoy a beer or a glass of wine on the roof of the Met, surrounded by art and with a view of New York skyline and with Central Park laid out below your feet? Yeah, you can.

Jeff Koons work was very funky and cool. Definitely the kind of thing where I'm not totally sold on it, but the balloon dog was incredible. I loved that. And my favorite arty photo of the trip was the skyline of New York reflected in the red heart with the couple posing in front of it caught in reflection.

Then we did a quick turn through the Turner exhibit. I am a fan of Turner, but the other ladies were not lovin' it. We tried to see as much as we could of the European masters, but by far it was the most crowded wing. We couldn't get anywhere near Degas or Monet, but we did see part of the exhibit and it felt surreal. I always feel that way when I see paintings that are so familiar but you've never actually seen them. Van Gogh's sunflowers and self portrait and haystacks, Monet's waterlillies, Matisse's dancing figures, a greatest hits of dorm posters and framed posters from early apartments. Sometimes its downright difficult to comprehend that you are seeing the original, the one that was lovingly create by the artist and not just another print.

It can also be hard to see because I'm 5'3" on a good day and often wind up being stepped on and elbowed in the head in large crowds. Blargh.

At that point we had to pack it in for the day because we had tickets to the Yankees game that night. More on that later!

A Little Vintage

2008-07-24T07:30:00.000-04:00

Way back in April I visited one of my favorite indoor flea markets and found two nearly perfect small table cloths. I had been looking for something that would be 'springy' and change the colors in my living room from the more wintry oranges and reds to something bright and fun for summer.

I think both cloths were hand embroidered by the same person. Not only did I find them in the same bin but they just had a look that paired them up. Personally, I am not particularly talented with an embroidery needle and am impressed that someone could put all this work in and have it turn out so great.

They are both smaller squares, perhaps intended to drape an entry table, bedside table or even card table. (They aren't the little bridge table covers you sometimes find, though.) The first one has four embroidered baskets filled with flowers, one in each corner, with a pretty circle embroidered in the middle. The edge has been crocheted with pink and white thread.
The second cloth has yellow and purple flower bunches in each corner. There is also a criss-cross pattern of purple stitches that make a grid and the edges have been crocheted with yellow, purple and white thread.Not the best pictures I've ever taken, but you get the idea. I added these two to my living room, one on the entry table where I throw my keys and the other on a small table in the bay window with a lamp and some tchotchkes. They have been very cheerful and bright all summer long, just what I wanted.

I think Darcel and I might hit this flea market on Sunday- it's indoors and we will probably wimp out on the outdoor flea market this week! We're fragile blossoms. Delicate blooms...

Some Berkshires Summer Fun

2008-07-23T09:04:00.009-04:00

On Saturday Darcel and I took a little day trip up into the Berkshires. We got our culture on by paying a visit to the Norman Rockwell Museum. The museum was pretty interesting and a nice size- not huge, but not small. There were a lot of visitors and there was a lot of bumping into people and having them trod on your toes as they checked out various paintings, but since its a Saturday in the summer we couldn't complain too much. It was amazing how many of the Rockwell paintings you know without ever making a study of it. They really are a part of the subconscious, a part of American culture that is familiar to so many.

They had an art installation of garden gates on the grounds. Various artists created fantastical garden gates and you strolled the grounds and saw them along the way. They were very cool and many of them were available for sale. You could have your own awesome garden gate at home!

We then drove into the town of Stockbridge for a little luncheon. A nice lunch at a local pub, some window shopping downtown and a wine tasting followed by a bit more window and book shopping and we were ready to go.

We headed further out into the hills to the Furnace Brook Winery. It is a stone's throw to the New York border, just about as far west as you can go in Massachusetts. We each wound up buying a bottle of the sparkling cider, it's a little different and incredibly delicious. It will come in handy for this weekend's Tour de France celebrations with Roma.

Finally we made a little stop at the Lee Outlets. A total bust, there was nothing, nothing, nothing, except a Coach bag I couldn't afford at all anyway. Heh.

It was a great, relaxing Saturday and we had a lot of fun. It was also kind to my budget which I love. A full day with unlimited fun but that fun not being based on spending a bunch of cash.

Here are some of the garden gates from the Rockwell Museum:

Happy Hallo- Wait, What?

2008-07-21T16:50:00.003-04:00

Dude. People, I went to get Ruth and another friend, Brooklyn, birthday cards and when I walked into Hallmark they were decorating it for Halloween. Not kidding. Halloween. Stuffed cauldrons, plush witches, ceramic pumpkins, all sorts of All Hallow's Eve brick-a-brac.

It is three months, MORE than three months to Halloween. This is just obnoxious. I mean, could we sport a little 'Back to School' and then some 'Fall' before we break out the candy corn?

I am picking up Morrigan and then heading to NYC to celebrate the birthdays of Ruth and Brooklyn. We will make merry, maybe take in a museum, definitely hit the beach and take in a Yankees game. Clearly I will be rooting for the Twins. I am going to try and work up a post or two to leave you while I am gone. I won't be back until Friday, but I am sure you will survive without me. :)

2008-07-19T09:00:00.000-04:00

A few weeks ago I started a little project into finding things to clean more 'green'. The number of chemicals that are in most of our daily cleaners is enough to really scare the average human. The thought of them in our water and environment when they don't maybe need to be compelled me to try and find some not-very-expensive and yet effective alternatives. My budget does not have a lot of room to indulge in some fantasy quest to use super fancy imported cleaning products that come in pretty bottles.

This one, is a toilet bowl cleaner made by major manufacturer, Clorox. It is a branch of their company called Green Works. So, that does two things for me; one, the name is one I know even if I don't really know the name 'Green Works' and the other is that I am hoping that Clorox is putting out a product that actually cleans. So, given those two factors- plus the decent price I gave it a try.

The ingredients are all natural and biodegradable. The fact that is not animal tested really pleased me!

I've used the product now for about 2 months and I've been very happy. The liquid is thick and clings to the side of the bowl which makes cleaning easy. I live in an old building and rust stains from the pipes are a battle, and this has really kept them at bay. I haven't noticed any lack of cleaning power.

The ingredients are mostly citrus based. There is coconut and lemon oil and citric acid. There is no bleach and no big long chemicals that I can't say aloud. When I've used it, it's a nice citrus smell and no cloud of chemical fumes- a bonus in bathroom cleaning.

One of my problems with attempting any sort of green cleaning in the past has been that the prices were so premium. You always have to go looking at fancy boutiques or in the fancy section of the grocery store (oxymoron, but you know what I mean) and then you paid more for less, not to mention that you weren't very sure that the product would actually clean. This one was a decent price, just $2.59 at my local large store with the bullseye. If you've been thinking about trying some new clean green product, I would recommend this one. Any that you have found and liked?

A Belated Post On The Fourth

2008-07-17T08:38:00.000-04:00

So this is whole post is late, but since I never promised anything approaching a timely chronology you will just have to suffer the indignity of the tardy post.

On the 4th of July I met up with my friend Morrigan, her husband Thor, her dad (McDad) and daughter Pixie, at a local farm. We have a membership and get all sorts of goodies grown fresh and local. In addition, you get a chance to pick flowers, visit the chickens and farm dogs, and shop in the little farm store.

Morrigan spent a few years working in a floral shop in high school and that has really paid off. Check out this knock-out bouquet she put together while wandering the pick-your-own flower section!

It was a chilly, damp day with showers in the morning, but they had cleared up enough that we could wander the farm without getting soaked. It made for a few pretty pictures with the flowers having raindrops on them, even if it made for more mucky ground to walk on. It's only dirt and we all know how to shower. Later that evening the big thunderstorms would roll through and wipe out our fireworks display. But they're rescheduled for next week, so while not as timely or festive it is a great chance to get together with friends and the community anyway. They've taken the rain delay as a chance to plan something special and there is going to be a whole town festival with game booths and food and competitions for the kids- that's taking lemons and making lemonade for sure!

Another fleur. I just love the bright colors!

Pixie is awesome. She is a girly mcsuper girly who likes pink dresses, fancy, sparkly shoes and jewelry who also climbs trees, catches newts, hikes and eats all her veggies. What a delightful combo. Here, she can be seen demonstrating a little of both sides of her personality. She's got on her pink sun dress, along with clear sparkly jellie shoes that I bought her, and she's covered in mud from her enthusiastic strawberry, flower and bean picking efforts. Mussed, but with no fuss.

It was a great way to spend a couple of hours with friends without a lot of hustle and bustle. We got lots of goodies and we had beautiful bouquets of flowers to show for our efforts.

Helen Mirren Is Smokin' Hot

2008-07-16T19:05:00.003-04:00

So, we totally already knew that Helen Mirren is beautiful and insanely talented as an actress. We've seen all the goooorgeous gowns during award season and her fabulous style. Her most charming cleavage is a wonder to behold in said gowns, but did anyone quite know what a knock out she is?She turns 63 in a few days. Yes, you read that correctly. Dang, I want to be Helen Mirren when I grow up. I have never in my life looked as amazing as this. It's an inspiration. I'm sure I could have a salad for dinner tonight after witnessing this.

I came across this photo on Go Fug Yourself. (They got it from The Daily Mail) Do you read it? It's a riot and an education all at once, so go get hysterical reading their critiques of fashion.

Roadside Fruit and Veggies

2008-07-16T15:00:00.000-04:00

I had a spare second today and pulled over to a tiny roadside stand advertising local blueberries. I've walked past here before with little Zo but never had a chance to stop, so today I took the side street and pulled in. There were not only blueberries, but wax beans! Yuuuum!

I passed on the cucumbers and peppers, but maybe later this week I'll go grab some.

Getting Rid Of Mouse- Easy Style

2008-07-15T20:32:00.012-04:00

Last night I went to get a drink of water before heading to bed. I walked into the kitchen, flipped on the light and poured myself the beverage. As I went to close the fridge a sudden movement startled me as a mouse ran across the top of my stove and leaped behind the fridge. I did not scream like a pansy-ass, but I did sort of give a garbled muffled shriek as I levitated backwards about 3 feet.

I am not afraid of mice. But I do not approve of them being in my home. Last fall Darcel had the same problem and I received a frantic late night call on the subject. I walked her through my mother's patented method of mouse capture and disposal and she was thrilled. Since I have to do the same thing tonight I figured I would go ahead and post a little anti-mouse tutorial. With pictures.

I know, you're excited, brace yourself!

Here are the items you need: Any kind of paper bag- a lunch sac is great, a mouse trap of the snap variety, peanut butter and a knife.

1. Get your snap style mouse trap (although I suppose other varieties could be used).2. Put a smudge of peanut butter on the trigger. In this case the trigger is a plastic piece that looks like cheese, but sometimes it's just a little metal tray.
3. Set the trap. Watch your fingers, this is the dangerous moment. I had a piece fly loose on one of these today and do some damage to my thumb. It didn't snap on me, thank God, but it inflicted some hurtin' anyway. They aren't exactly the most high quality product every made.
4. Open lunch sac/brown paper bag.
5. Holding the sides of the mouse trap with all fingers and palms well way from the potentially snapping trap, gently place the mouse trap in the bag. Just half way in is enough.
6. Using a knife, gently push the trap into the middle of the bag.
7. Carefully pick up the bag with two hands, keeping it level and put wherever you want to try and catch the mousey.
8. Check the bag in the morning and if you have caught your mouse, then pick up the bag, fold over the top and take it out to the trash.

The beauty of this method is that you never have to touch, or even really look directly at the dead mouse. At $1.47 for four traps I am more than happy to just chuck the trap out with the mouse still in it. The paper bag does not scare or deter the mouse at all, they walk right in and go for the peanut butter, so don't worry about that. The other advantage to the bag method is that you won't accidentally trigger it with your foot or forget that it is there and it can keep dumb dogs and curious cats out in most cases.

OK, so go on and catch any pesky mice that have wandered into your abode. I hope that I can catch mine tonight!

Duh

2008-07-14T09:01:00.004-04:00

Went to the grocery store for two things.

Bought nine.

Pulling out of the parking lot I realized none of the nine were the two that I went for originally and actually needed.

Refused to go back to the madness of the grocery store and its parking lot.

Early Alzheimers? Could be. Just an idiot? Could be.

Learning Early

2008-07-12T10:58:00.006-04:00

The Red Sox made me swear last night. It would not be the first time, it will absolutely not be the last time. Frustration, annoyance and swearing are part of what it means to be a Red Sox fan. Really, it's what it means to be a baseball fan, but most definitely a Red Sox fan.

The entire character of what it means to be a fan of this team has changed in the recent past, it has transformed into a new kind of team and a new kind of fan experience. My little cousins know nothing of the pain and suffering of the Red Sox past, they are part of the new, the bright and shiny winning, World Series Champion Red Sox Nation. But I am old and haggard and my formative years were spent learning the ways of near misses, painful losses, blown leads, collapsed come-backs and that next year would be 'our year'. As I muttered obscenities at the tv screen and waved my hands around in useless exhortation the Red Sox lost to the Orioles. Bah.

It made me remember the story of when I first learned to swear about the Red Sox. It is nothing that I, myself, remember, but is a tale of family lore that I have heard many times.

In September of 1978 my grandmother, a widow, was marrying my grandfather. So technically he's a step-grandfather, but not to me. My grandmother, her mother, my mother, and a bevy of other ladies in the family were getting ready for the evening wedding. There was to-ing and fro-ing and slips and hose and shoes and perfume and make-up, it was a hive of activity and I was interested, but a little bored, too.

I went in search of my great-grandfather who was on the back porch hiding from the ladies. He was watching the Red Sox play the Yankees on a tiny color (fancy!) TV with rabbit ears and an extension cord that ran into the kitchen. Anyone who is a long time fan of the Sox just groaned 'The Boston Massacre!' and is well prepared for the rest of this story.

I climbed up on his lap and settled in to enjoy the game and sips of his contraband A&P Root Beer- yuuuum. The Sox had an early lead with the Yanks trailing by one. Grandfather was a pretty quiet guy, but during baseball games he was known to yell at the tv...a lot. I can still hear the echo of his, 'Nothing but a bunch of bums! Goddamn bums!' ring through the air.

When the fifth inning rolled around Reggie Jackson came up to bat for the Yanks and tied it with a homerun. Herbert took it well, I am sure.

Eventually I got bored and went to see what the ladies were doing. I climbed upstairs and found them all in my grandmother's bedroom. On the bed was a big jewelry box, the kind that opens like a treasure chest and there are trays and drawers to put all your best glittery goods. I decided to climb up on the bed and see. As I started to hoist myself up, the jewelry box tipped on the uneven mattress and launched through the air and crashed to the ground with bits of jewelry flying in every direction.

I looked in horror at the mess and then I stamped my foot and yelled, 'Goddamn Reggie Jackson!'

And then all hell broke loose. My great-grandmother, Bucko, shrieked, 'Heeeeerbeeeerrt what did you teach the baby!?!' as she charged down the stairs followed by my horrified mother. My grandmother yelled, 'Daaaad, are you watching the Red Sox, you're supposed to be getting ready!' as she burst out onto the porch followed by two of her sisters who weren't going to miss out on the fun. And there sat my great-grandfather totally bewildered as to what on earth he'd done to deserve having six women, mad as hornets, shaking their fingers and all yelling at once.

And that's how I learned to swear at the Red Sox. I hadn't quite figured out when to apply my new knowledge, but a few more years down the road I would have the art mastered. We in Red Sox Nation learn early to love the Sox, hate the Yanks, swear at them both and boo the umps. It's a rich local tradition- my heritage.

This is my great-grandfather's high school baseball team in 1922. He's front row, second from left. Pretty groovy, huh?

And here is Herbert and myself getting together to talk baseball in the early days.

Although I don't remember any of these events, it is a story that still lives in my family. When something goes wrong, something that aggravates and drives someone crazy they say, 'Goddamn Reggie Jackson!' I get phone calls from my mother that start with these words and I know that her day has not gone well. Your bag of groceries busts open in the parking lot on the way to car? Say it! Get a flat tire in the rain? Say it! The copier get jammed again? Say it! If anyone asks, you can blame it on me, or Herbert- he's taken the blame on this one for years.

Dreamy Twilight

2008-07-11T10:54:00.004-04:00

Last night I babysat Zo so that his parents could go have a date. He's a baby, well 13 month old, who is either on, or off, happy or mad, there is no fussy in between. You never know what you'll get, and last night the cards came up trump. Not only was he an easy peasy baby, it was a delightful night.

He very cheerfully waved his parents 'b-b-b-b-bye '(He's starting to talk!) and didn't fuss a bit as they left. It was pretty late and I hadn't had dinner yet, so I put Zo in his tricked out all-terrain stroller and headed out. We strolled the two blocks along the main street to the pizza place where I ordered a small pizza and they said it would be 15 minutes or so. I seized the opportunity to take Zo for an evening walk.

The Three Zs live in a typical New England small town with a main street, a few shops and churches some closely clustered streets with houses but with farm fields mixed in lending a patchwork quality to the layout. The world before subdivisions and houses that are all identical covered the land.

So we turned left out of the pizza parlor and headed down a long side street. The sky in the east was the softest, haziest pink that faded into layers of blue and violet while the sky in the west was glowing a sweet golden honey yellow. The air that had been so hot and humid for days was cooler and drier with a teeny breeze to ensure comfort.

The sidewalk winds under huge maple trees and the leaves were moving in a very gentle breeze making a whispering noise. As we passed tiny farmhouse with a sprawling porch the crying of a baby wafted out the windows. Zo didn't seem to mind at all and I thought, 'Don't get any ideas, baby!'. But he just lifted up his bottle and lay back in his seat and drank while waving his hand at the leaves passing over his head.

The perfect rows of corn stretched out on the left, a red barn in the distance. We walked past a colonial saltbox house, tiny with a huge back yard surrounded by hydrangeas in full bloom the windows warm yellow squares of light. Another house, with the sound of a tv competing with the wails of a pre-schooler who 'No want bath!'. The colors of the sky continued to deepen as we passed overgown lawns and perfectly tended vegetable gardens. I waved at the folks eating outside and Zo started to drift off to sleep.

By the time we had turned back Zo was sound asleep. He slept through the noise and bright lights when I stopped to pick up the pizza. He slept through the barking dog and the loud stereo that blared from a passing car. And miracles or miracles he slept through the transfer from stroller to crib with just a little fussing that was solved by my patting his back.

I was able to eat two slices of delicious pizza and watch Phil and Paul narrate one of my favorite summer events, The Tour de France.

Pepe Be Gone

2008-07-10T11:30:00.000-04:00

Every night I have a visitor.

He is very ardent in his pursuit.

Somewhere between ten and two he appears on my front lawn and makes his presence known.

I feel much like the poor cat in this picture. Nearly every night Monsieur appears beneath my window proffering his bouquet of stench. The scent is enough to make my eyes water. It can wake me from a sound sleep.

I have seen this skunk. In fact, I saw it last night when I was walking home from Darcel's place. It's oddly white, like 80%. From a distance you could tragically mistake it for a cat.

Oh how I wish he would go away. Far, far away.

*The photo is from here.

Random TV Love- Top Gear

2008-07-09T11:30:00.000-04:00

I love Top Gear. Anyone know it? It's a show out of Britain about cars. I can't think of one thing about the premise that would entice me to watch. And yet...I love it. I love it so much that I DVR it and watch it at leisure.

It has three hosts who all seem to like each other a lot and hate each other a lot- in a way that some guys can do. They are ruthlessly mean to each other, mock each other and set each other up for disasters whenever possible. Sort of like Jackass, but with vehicles and a smooth British accent.

They do straight up reviews of cars, but mostly they are far above any normal person's budget. They get one-of-a-kind cars and cars worth hundreds of thousands of dollars and drive them around the track. They check out a lot of just merely expensive cars, Mercedes, BMW, Ferrari, Jaguar and such. That's OK, I listen, sometimes they're pretty interesting.

But the pure genius is in all the other crap that they do.

They have celebrities come and race around a track in a 'reasonably priced car'. They do an interview (always very random) and then watch the timed race lap and then they place them on a leader board. They get big names in, and sometimes folks I've never heard of, but they're still fun to watch.

The three hosts are frequently sent on challenges involving cars. Things like, go to America and purchase a car in Miami for less than $1000, drive it to New Orleans. They raced across London at rush hour using a car, boat, bike and public transportation to see what was fastest. Modify RVs and race them around a track smashing into each other along the way.

As a girl who's owned her car for almost 10 years, and it was used when I bought it, I am the last to claim any interest in awesome car shows. But this one, oh yeah.

If you have BBC America, you should check it out. The new season starts Monday!

Guilt Monkeys

2008-07-08T10:00:00.000-04:00

See this grossness? Do you have any idea what it is?
These are Sea Monkeys. But they aren't- they aren't Sea Monkeys at all, they are Guilt Monkeys. I bought these for Fiddle's birthday...in September. Both Fiddle and Faddle begged me to let them hatch them at my apartment. They (probably quite correctly) declared that they would never be able to raise them at home.

So I said yes. No big deal. It's just some shrimp in a container. The did, as advertised, provide the boys with a lot of amusement and some minor science education. But as mid-June rolled around I realized that with the boys away at camps most of the summer there was no way I could ship the Monkeys home with them.

Simultaneously, I began to approach the end of the magic Sea Monkey food pouch. Nine months is not a bad run for a single pouch of Monkey food, but now I had a dilemma.

Practical good sense said that when the boys finished school and were no longer a near daily visitor to my apartment I could ditch the Monkeys. Not my job.

But the fact is, I just couldn't do it. I could think of no good ending. Let them starve? Pour them down the drain? After 10 months of feeding these little gross fresh water shrimp I just couldn't do it. I mean, I know that they are probably generation 473, and not the original Monkeys but it didn't change the heartless killer thing.

Anyway, my karma probably couldn't take it. I need all the good karma I can get. I have no idea what I did in a past life, but it has seriously messed with portions of my karma in this life. Especially things to do with my car or me and cars in general...

So what did I do?

Yes, I bought more food. I searched high and low and finally found it at a shop in town. Of course it wasn't just food, I had to buy the whole package. Well, not the container, but the Monkeys, the food, the whole shebang. Like I would grow more Monkeys??!!?

So now the Guilt Monkeys swim happily in the gross container, procreating like crazy and eating Monkey food till their hearts content. Wait, do Monkeys have hearts? Must check Wikipedia...

Secret Asian Man

2008-07-07T13:43:00.000-04:00

Secret Asian man, secret Asian man, they've given you a number and taken waaaay your name!

Come on people, sing it with me! Secret Asian man! What? Oh, it's not 'Asian man'? Oooh, agent man. That makes so much more sense.

I have known for many years now that it is AGENT man, but somehow the whole Asian man thing still sings in my head when I happen to hear this song. What I did not know, is that there is a word for this little problem.

Oh yes! There is! Mondegreen is a word that has been around for a long time, but it is only this year joining the ranks of the proud Merriam-Webster dictionary. They released their list of new words and this has to be my total favorite.

Mondegreen
Mondegreen
Mondegreen

From the Merriam-Webster site: mondegreen ("a word or phrase that results from a mishearing of something said or sung") has delighted wordplay aficionados for years. Mondegreen was first coined by author Sylvia Wright in 1954 in Atlantic magazine, when she confessed to a childhood misinterpretation of the Scottish ballad "The Bonny Earl of Moray." When she first heard the lyric "they had slain the Earl of Moray and had laid him on the green," she felt terribly sorry for the "poor Lady Mondegreen."

Got that? A mondegreen is when you mishear a lyric (or other). This has happened to everyone, and we've all be chagrined when our friends look at us with horror as we belt out, "Hold me closer, Tony Danzaaaa" and then the mocking begins.

It has happened to you, I know it!

The best part is that Merriam-Webster is asking people to submit their mondegreens. So go on, do it. Confess your mondegreen sins, but don't submit Secret Asian Man, I already got that one covered.

Also, go check out Jon Carroll's hillarious columns on the subject of mondegreens.

Sweet Treat

2008-07-06T11:00:00.000-04:00

I got a little care package in the mail the other day. Inside was a t-shirt from a very unlikely place, and some candy from a friend. The candy was Skittles. I can't remember the last time I bought myself a package of Skittles. I'm just not that much of a candy person. Ice cream is an entirely different story, but candy, eh. Perhaps it is the irony of growing up where the streetlights are shaped like Kisses- I don't care about candy...

In any case, I smuggled my care package treat into the movies and noshed away while watching Wall-E. Yuuuuum. I loved the green and yellow ones best. The citrus is always my favorite, even if its that funky fake citrus taste unique to candy.

I forgot how delicious these are!

Dara Torres Shezam!

2008-07-05T11:56:00.001-04:00

Shezam! I wanna be Dara Torres when I grow up! Did you miss this in all the July 4th hubbub? Dara Torres is a swimmer. She is competing to be on the US Olympic swimming team for Beijing in 2008. Oh, by the way, she's 41, a mother of a 15 month old and she first won a gold medal at the 1984 Summer Olympics.

Last night Dara didn't just make the Olympic team, she won the women's 100 M Free. She beat a field of competitors that are 25 and under, 16 years her junior.

Dara has already competed in four Olympics (1984, 1988, 1992, 2000) and won NINE Olympic medals. She's retired twice before and missed two Olympics, or she might well have been heading to her seventh. The 100 Free isn't even her best event- she'll be going for a spot in the 50 Free tonight, with the final on Sunday evening.

I wanna be Dara Torres when I grow up.

This clip is a little long, about 5 minutes, but you see the race start to finish.

This is a little 'Person of the Week' profile from ABC. This was done before the trials started, but you see her routine and how she trains.

Dang, I love the Olympics.

Fireworks - Not For You, Massachusetts, Not For You!

2008-07-04T13:00:00.000-04:00

Most I really love living in Massachusetts. It's pretty liberal, there is a big city, beaches, good chowder, skiing, lots of state parks, fall foliage, the Red Sox and more. However, sometimes this place is so effing uptight that you can not believe it. The Yankee blood runs true- conservative, puritanical, no-fun, doom and gloom reign here on the Fourth of July (and select other moments).

Did you know that in the state of Massachusetts every single kind of firework is illegal. Every kind! You can't even light a sparkler or a black snake* for the love of Pete! No lie. A BLACK. SNAKE. Um, the most benign firework ever. If you lose a finger or toe lighting one of these I gotta say that's Darwin at work and leave it at that.

What kind of state says that you can't light a sparkler? I get maybe advising us not to, or reminding us to put down the beer while we light up the black snakes, but exactly how incompetent do you think we are? We can really decide if we want to lose our fingers all by ourselves, so could you butt out, Massachusetts? A few PSAs regarding the dangers and some good limitations would really be just about enough.

Honestly, I don't need my neighbors to be armed with professional grade fireworks. I don't want to stay up all night listening to some moron's unending supply of crappy fireworks whistle, bang and sizzle. But I would kinda like to be allowed one box of multi-colored sparklers. I'm old enough. Seriously. I can manage it.

OK, kids, you have fun and stay safe out there. If you live anywhere but here, you light up a sparkler for me. Don't lose any fingers in the process, please. Remember, put down the beer, then light the sparkler...

*Please watch that Black Snake Firework video- a dad yelling 'Flaming pooping trio!' while the toddler giggles and the mom goes, 'eeeeewww, that's grooooos'. Classic. If that's not family fun, on America's birthday what is??

Love Is A Battlefield...Will Make DPW Workers Laugh

2008-07-03T16:36:00.000-04:00

So my car is currently residing at the repair shop. It has a little problem, but it won't PERFORM said problem for the mechanics who seem to believe me but kind of are starting to think I'm nuts. Great. Join the club. Since my car is in the shop and I had need of transportation this week, my lovely friends, The Three Zs, loaned me their spare. It is a two-seat hard-top convertable that is rarely used by them. Wheee!

Today I took the back way over to their store where I am working for a few hours. Along the way I cranked up the radio and let my hair fly. I sort of looked like a demented blond Medusa in a teal convertable. Heh.

Van Morrison's Brown Eyed Girl came on the radio and I sang along. Basking in the sunshine and warm breezes. Then maybe Elton John and I did a duet to Don't Go Breaking My Heart. I ROCK as Kiki Dee. (I really wish I had that hot hair, oh wait I did when I was 4! And the overalls are a statement for sure, that combined with the hair and the smooth dance moves is more awesomeness than I can take. I'm watching that video a hundred times tonight.) Then the lovely Pat Benetar burst forth with Love Is A Battlefield! (Ohhellzyeah! I so remember this video.) So maybe I was singing along. Loudly. In a convertable. Maybe I didn't think much about it as I slowly drove by the DPW guys working on the side of the road. Not until I noticed them doubled up in laughter and waving at me.

Heh. They're just jealous. They want to drive the teal convertible and sing Pat Benatar in the sunshine instead of holding 'slow' signs and patching potholes.

Fun, Crazy Weekend

2008-07-01T21:02:00.001-04:00

Sorry I haven't posted- A friend came in from out of town this last weekend. We spent three days running around like nuts and having a blast. We tooled around the Berkshires and wandered the little shops and galleries in Lenox, visited the only winery in Western Massachusetts and took the back roads everywhere. We went to the movies, played mini-golf, shopped and hid in the air conditioning a lot.

Ruth is a crazy woman who is also the most down to earth and upstanding human around. What an awesome combination. We always have a blast and I miss her like crazycakes when shes gone. Good thing we chat on IM about four hours a day. Good use of my time, yes?

Also, I am watching I Survived A Japanese Gameshow right now. I'm so going to television hell in a handbasket. It's the heat, it makes my brain incapable of watching the Masterpiece Theater I DVR'd.

Growing Gills

2008-06-26T21:24:00.000-04:00

Today was some seriously odd weather. As my grandmother would have said, "It almost rain but it mist." Ha! All day it was just so humid you could not believe it, there was no actual rain, but the air was just a fine veil of almost-rain all day.

It was one of those things that compelled everyone to say something about the weather. Everywhere I went, every line I stood in, each person I met said something along the lines of, "What's up with this? It's so humid I'm melting!"

It wasn't hot, not even warm really but it was so uncomfortable. You sweat standing still and the moisture just clung to everything. My clothes took on this permanently damp feel that was so very unpleasant. There was not the slightest puff of a breeze to bring relief, the leaves on the trees just did not move all day.

I was babysitting Zo this afternoon and he wanted to be held. Blech. Poor munchkin, he clearly has no idea that pressing his sticky baby flesh to me was not going to improve his situation. In the mid-afternoon I popped him into his stroller and went for a walk. He was much happier to be on the move and I was happier generating my own breeze by strolling than melting into a puddle being stationary.

He even zonked out after a while. The never-sleep-ever-baby!

I hope that tomorrow is going to be much less humid because if not I might grow some gills, or at least some moss.

Fields Of Flowers

2008-06-25T22:59:00.000-04:00

In a perfect moment of overlapping needs, my friends needed a hand with their little boy and their shop and I had free time and a need for finances! Don't you just love it when that happens?

Anyway, it was a gorgeous, gorgeous day here today. The sky was a blue bowl, the air was cooler and less humid and the sun was bright. My friend, Zeb, came to pick me up and we took a short drive through the countryside to a farm. There we did a little shopping and picked strawberries and flowers.

The strawberries are the very last of the season, but so delicious. We ate more than a few while we picked. The strawberries were hot from the sun and so sweet they tasted like jam rather than just the berries.

The flowers were beautiful with vivid colors and the rows seemed to stretch endlessly towards the horizon . There were several that I did not know the name of as well as; Bachelor's Buttons, Snapdragons, a few early Zinnias - and I could see buds on many plants- more flowers to come!

The bees were busy, buzzing around from flower to flower. Given the horrible colony collapse problems, I'm always glad to see one of these guys doing their job. In this case there were lots of bees around, all intent on their jobs and not in the least interested in the humans wandering the fields.

I also spotted a few ladybugs climbing around the flowers. They were mostly quite shy and not excited to get their pictures taken. Figures, you know girls.

After we gathered up all our goodies Zeb and I headed back to his house. His wife, Zippy, was entirely happy to hand over her munchkin, Zo. He is just a year and a total handful. He has the temper of a Irish redhead! He can be quite the temperamental handful, but today he was an angel. We played and laughed all afternoon (no more ticklish baby ever existed). When he fought his nap and was cranky-pants I popped him in the stroller and went for a nice long, shady walk.

I finished the day off with a totally local dinner! I had an omlette (sort of- I'm not so swift with the omlette) made of local eggs, local asparagus, local dill, local goat cheese and local hothouse tomatoes! So delicious!

Hard Day = Clean Apartment

2008-06-24T16:45:00.000-04:00

Yesterday was a totally crappy day. A company that owes me money is pulling the 'revenue stream issues' and 'tough times' line. Right. So, for work I have already completed you will not pay. Great. They assure me that they really will pay me. Someday. Not so helpful for say, today.

My reaction was a moment of hysteria and then I grabbed some cleaning implements.

Really. Cleaning stuff. What is the matter with me? When faced with emotional crises, those which I can't change and that make me nuts, I clean.

I got out the Windex and went to town on the windows. The baseboard radiators are shiny and dust free. The baseboards, spotless. The pollen that once decorated my windowsills? Goners! Loads of laundry, a reorganized closet, a freshly made bed.

So I'm an emotional wreck. But hey, my apartment is spotless!

*Helmet image proof positive that I've always been a little crazy and that a helmet is always a handy accessory.

On Piano Lessons Lost And Recitals Attended

2008-06-22T21:20:00.000-04:00

As I mentioned, Faddle was not polite to his piano teacher two weeks ago. I had only taken him to one other piano lesson, so I was unaware that this was an ongoing problem. Oh, Faddle.

I had spoken with his mother, Tee, specifically about the events of that Friday. She wasn't happy with Faddle. She was also frustrated at the whole circumstance. The irony, Faddle likes piano- and he's good at it.

Fast forward to this last Friday and Tee called while having a horrible mommy day. They happen. You know they do. A lot. Those ungrateful wretches, better known as children, have no idea the havoc they wreak on the emotional well-being of their mothers. At least I hope they have no idea, because if they do- they're sadists!

In any case, one of the problems of the day was that Faddle's piano teacher had called and basically uninvited Faddle to any further lessons. Ouch. Man, this is saying something because that woman has the patience of Job! Also, she's an amazing teacher and it is entirely LAME that Faddle managed to blow this opportunity.

For heaven's sake, why on earth did he do it? He LIKES to play the piano. The teacher did all sorts of fun things, including getting him simple sheet music to his favorite music- Queen. He didn't even mind practicing. His 'issues with authority' are about to land him a boot up his ass by his mother.

He was going to have one more lesson and his recital on Saturday and then that's it. I feel really bad for Tee. She's frustrated and tired of trying to figure out the psyche of Faddle. She's no push-over and so I don't think he's a pain because of that. But this is a common problem with Faddle, he seems to get everything he wants in a situation and he STILL manages to be a total nightmare. He does it at school, with me, his piano teacher, his former sports coaches and even his parents. What is with that? Truly both the problem and the solution lie with Faddle, I think we can work to help him figure it out, but nothing any of us do is changing this behavior, this attitude, this suckitude.

In any case, on Saturday morning I got up and walked over to the recital hall. Tee and the boys were late- of course they were- they're late to everything. But luckily the recital was just getting started and the teacher (being no dummy) had scheduled Faddle well into the event. Also, this genius teacher split her students into two groups so that the recital only lasted 50 minutes. No lie! How awesome is that? No sitting through a billion precious snowflake recitals!

Truly the kids were both skilled and charming. I have no complaints. I thought I might need some sort of combat metal for agreeing to attend such an event for Faddle, but I actually enjoyed it. There were teeny kids who did one song and older kids who were quite talented and performed three songs. I totally loved the kid who not only played but sang- Jame's Taylor's Sweet Baby James. He even had everyone join in on the last chorus. Awesome. I really wished that we'd had a sing-along for John Denver's Take Me Home Country Roads as performed by a lovely little boy. I really would have rocked that one out.

Faddle did a good job. He also did a decent job of waiting for his turn and then sitting through the remaining performances. I don't know if Tee has informed him of the loss of his piano lessons yet. I'll catch up with her this week and see what the story is. What a waste.

Olympic Trial Idiots

2008-06-21T17:38:00.001-04:00

Dear Morons Sitting Behind The Still Rings (and a few others),

Yes, you.

Look, if someone has worked their whole damn lives to reach the Olympics could you show some respect? You look like you can barely make it up the stairs to your seats, so I doubt you know the effort that these young men and their entire families have made to get here. But really, use your small brains and try and work it out.

They (and the rest of America) don't need to see you waving, making faces, shaking your asses and letting your obnoxious four-year-old monkey dance for the cameras. Did you get lost? This is not a hockey game. Or a baseball game. Or a football game. It's the Olympic trials. This happens once every FOUR years. Could you pull yourselves together and sit still while these young men perform?

If you feel you must, then dance and mug for the camera during the million minutes that people are NOT performing. During the 60 seconds that these guys perform amazing feats of athletic grace and strength could you sit still?

I really wish I could reach through the television and slap you.

You've really done America proud, folks, really awesome.

Thanks,
Jess in MA

Hehe!

2008-06-20T21:10:00.000-04:00

Heheheheheeee!

Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net

Gotta head over to the Brew House now. Heh.

Cleaning Greener: Meeting Mrs. Meyers

2008-06-20T15:00:00.000-04:00

I have been trying to make my life a little greener. A few weeks ago I spotted this in the big box wonderland of Target. Mrs. Meyer's Clean Day counter top spray. I used to see this in the fancy-pants boutiques on occasion but I had never paid the price for the exclusive coolness.

I usually use Windex for cleaning the counter top or dining room table. Sort of odd, I guess, but it's simple, effective and not too harsh. It easily removes hot chocolate rings, popsicle puddles and the balogna residue that seem to follow the boys wherever they go. I often let Faddle do the post-snack clean up and he's very good if over-enthusiastic with the spritzing and I can let him since its just some ammonia.

But since there is clearly other stuff in Windex, even if I don't know if it is good or bad for the environment or my liver or anything I figured it was worth a try to make the move to Mrs. Meyer's.
At the top of the bottle it says 'aromatheraputic' and they aren't playing. This stuff smells great, but it is strong. My kitchen smells citrus-y fresh for a significant amount of time after I clean. Great for some, less appealing to others.

Mrs. Meyers contains only natural ingredients and everything is biodegradable. There are oils of lemon, lemmongrass, peppermint, clove, geranium and a vegetable protein. That's it, not big chemical names anywhere!

I was a little concerned that it might be oily or leave a sticky residue since it has so many essential oils in it, but no! I was also uncertain about its ability to power through the usual kitchen mess. I'm used to the brutal force of ammonia and in emergency cases the Formula 409 to blast away whatever disaster I have created. But I've been using the Mrs. Meyers for about three weeks now and I have been really happy with its cleaning power.

I can't remember what the price was when I had seen it before in the kitchen shops and other boutiques, but maybe with the mass power of selling through the ubiquitous bulls-eye it might be less pricey. Well, hmm. Less, probably. Inexpensive, no. I think it is usually around two bucks for most of my kitchen cleaners and this one rings in at a whopping $4.99.

The size of the bottle is decent and it usually takes me a long, long time to use up a whole bottle of kitchen cleaner. (I have like 2 feet of counter space, so that could be why.) Also I must say that I do not overuse this, just a spritz or two and I'm usually all set, so it isn't like I have to compensate for the 'natural' part by using more. Which means that five bucks isn't so big a deal for a bottle of cleaner that will last me for months. So far, so good. I definitely recommend to others who might want to try something a bit more 'green' and less harsh!

I'm A Flintstones Kid

2008-06-19T14:00:00.000-04:00

I am a Flintstones kid. Ok, the kid part is clearly pushing it, but so what. Years ago in a fit of health consciousness I purchased a bottle of Centrum one-a-day vitamins. I hated them. Nothing against them, this was entirely my fault. They were just so...grown up...boring...lifeless. I think it took me six months to finish a bottle that should have lasted a month.

The next time I went to my doctor I asked, "Um, can I take Flintstones vitamins instead of the grown up Centrum type ones?" The doctor looked at me funny. I explained, "I know it's dumb, but I never remember or like to take the regular ones so I thought maybe, well, Flintstones." He continued to look at me funny. Then he laughed. Then he said, "Yes, you can take them if you want." I asked if I needed to take two a day or anything since I am not seven anymore, but he assured me that one was plenty.

So now I take Flintstones every day. I have managed to do this for years now. I rarely forget on a given day. I keep them by my kitchen sink so that I see them often and remember. I've even gotten the ones that have iron, so they're perfect for me.

In the past I tried the generic store version and I gotta say, not as good. I'm all for the less expensive generic whenever possible, but I would say that the purchase of the actual Flintstones is the way to go.

So, if you have been skipping your Centrum or whatever because it just has no zip. Take my advice, get yourself some Flintstones and feel the magic.
Look, I get a red Barney today. Not as good as my favorite purple Dino, but still, waaaaay better than boring!

Mastermind And Pin Cushions

2008-06-18T23:20:00.000-04:00

I've mentioned that Fiddle is a bit of an anxious kid. It's just the way he's made. He's working on changing it and learning how to cope with his need for perfection and how he gets frustrated and freaks out when things don't go how he would like them to go.

But these things are baby steps. Changing things about yourself takes time. Lots of time. Grown-ups have just as much trouble, ask anyone who's tried to quit smoking, stay on a diet or give up a bad habit. It's a struggle.

Last week Fiddle, Faddle and I played Mastermind. Do you remember Mastermind? You set up colored pegs in a secret order, hidden by a little screen and then your opponent guesses. There are big colored pegs and small red and white pegs that are used to give people a hint as to whether they have part of the code right or not. These pegs go into two little divided bins that are a attached to the game itself.

After we played a few rounds we decided to pack it in. I asked Fiddle if he would put the game away please. I then wandered off to do some dishes. Because the kitchen is not in sight of the living room I missed the early stages of the freakout. It was only when I heard the wordless shriek of rage and frustration and the cry of 'I can't dooooo iiiiiiiit!' did I realize that Fiddle was in trouble.

Ditching the dishes I came out to check what the problem was and found Fiddle in tears. He could not get the colored pegs to stay in their respective bins and close the lid. Something kept moving and jamming the lid and the pegs would get all mixed up.

Do you see that there are like seven pegs out of place? This is enough to make him lose it. What other ten-year-old out there is worrying about this? Most would jam the lid shut or just shove it into the box without even managing to get the lid shut.

I calmly explained that it was ok if some of the pegs got mixed up. I pointed out that sometimes I have trouble getting the lid closed to the bins and that it just takes some time and effort. I reminded him that he's always allowed to ask for help and that he can take a break and come back to something that is frustrating him, as long as he does indeed come back. (He has some issues with quitting.) All to virtually no avail. Once my man Fiddle is in freakout mode, there is no stopping it.

He retreated to the comfy chair.

After Tee came to pick up the boys I myself collapsed on the comfy chair. Turning my head I spotted my pin cushion. You know, the kind that is like a red tomato divided into sections by green strings wrapped around the orb? I see that while in the comfy chair recovering from his freakout Fiddle has taken all of the pins and organized them by color in each section.

That is Fiddle to a tee.

The Chicken Dance

2008-06-17T17:45:00.000-04:00

Today I was grumpy. I know why I was grumpy, but it doesn't really matter and I couldn't change of the factors involved. It's boring to be grumpy. It is boring to be the person has to deal with the grump. I was trying to just crank over and get the grump out of the system but nothing was particularly effective.

I arrived to get the boys at school this afternoon and had a few minutes to wait. Noticing that my car's dashboard and all other flat surfaces were disgustingly dirty and covered with pollen I grabbed my pack of Windex Wipes and started to clean. That's the kind of OCD girl I am. I have Windex Wipes in my car...all the time. Sigh.

As I wiped away the gross grime a car pulled into the adjoining parking lot. The sound of a boisterous and incredibly loud accordion rendition of The Chicken Dance was pulsing out of this vehicle. Really? An accordion listener who blasts their music? Fascinating.

The car pulled in and out of a space about six hundred times before finally parking to their satisfaction. Either they were a perfectionist or just crazy. That mystery was solved when the car door opened. The volume of the music increased to deafening levels and out of the car emerged a very tall, very skinny elderly man. Seeing the line up of nannies, mothers, fathers and others waiting for their kids he began to dance. Not a lie. He hopped-one-foot-skipped and shimmied in a circle around his car. The Chicken Dance's ever increasing tempo beat frantically faster and faster as this senior citizen beanpole improv polka'd around the vehicle.

Awesome.

He didn't seem crazy in the clinical sense. He seemed crazy in the what-the-eff-do-you-care way. A way I can't imagine being ever, he just did what he wanted when he wanted because he wanted to. End of story.

As the music ended he reached in, turned off the radio, shut the car door and wandered over to sit on the chairs with a few other seniors who were hanging out at the establishment.

I found myself cackling with glee. Seriously, when have you ever seen such a thing? Never! Visions of family weddings, St. Patrick's Day colleen balls, New Year's parties, retirement parties, anniversary parties, all featuring aunts, uncles and cousins in various stages of non-sobriety doing The Chicken Dance. Normally dignified older ladies and gentlemen flapping their arms with abandon, typically cool and hip cousins shimmying their backsides as tailfeathers, small children losing their balance and wiping out on the dance floor. I could not stop laughing as the memories of the insanity crowded in.

Then a woman pulled her car into the space beside mine. As I looked over I see that she has taken out a Swiffer Duster and is attacking her dashboard and vents. HA! Let the crazies gather in one place, I say!

I was officially ungrumpy. Really, who could be grumpy in the face of such total lunacy? Not me.

By the way, the instructions to The Chicken Dance are available online here. No freaking kidding. It's awesome. Actually, extra awesome.

A Quick Visit

2008-06-16T10:36:00.000-04:00

My mother made a quick visit this weekend. She came to pick up her new Akita from the breeders. This is going to be her final Akita since she's getting a smidge older now and in another 10 years or so a big, strong dog will not be a good match for her. So she hunted and hunted to find just the right dog to be her last Akita and she found her! She is a beautiful, smart and sweet little pup and I am sure she will be a good dog.
Isn't she sweet?

We picked her up on Sunday morning and drove to my cousin's soccer match. He's just four so it was very cute. He did a great job as goalie and stopped several balls. He was not so strong on defense because, just like all the other kids, he leaves his post and runs up to where the action is. His mom, my cousin, is the coach and she ran up and down the field tirelessly yelling and pointing and encouraging all the kids. Very fun!

Then it was off to another cousin's house for a Father's Day BBQ. There were approximately 4.7 million children there. They had even rented a jumpy house to keep them all busy. Thankfully the weather was gorgeous and the kids loved running around, playing with the new puppy and stuffing their faces. So did the adults.

A great day!

Also, my mother says that the mystery tree in the front yard is, "...some kind of Chestnut..." So maybe we have our answer! She's smart about plants.

I Make Bad Nine Year Olds Cry

2008-06-13T20:20:00.000-04:00

Sometimes children can drive you batty. They can be hyper and they can be unfocused or slow and dawdle- whatever you don't need in the moment they are ready to provide. Sometimes this makes you raise your voice and point fingers and sometimes it makes you roll your eyes and try humor and poking or tickling to get someone moving. But then there are they days when someone really just loses their damn mind and says or does something so far over the line that you can not believe it. Today was one of those days.

Today Faddle was off the rails entirely. I picked him up from school and he was whiny and crabby. Usually this is solved by food, but no. He continued. He walked a fine line of my tolerance by not quite talking back, not quite being a smart alec, not quite being rude. We had several brief exchanges of my reminding him that he may not be rude. He rolled his eyes.

Then I took him to his piano lesson. He was rude to the piano teacher. Oh. No. You. Didn't.

If you are nine and are rude and disrespectful to me, you are gonna regret it. If you are nine and rude and disrespectful to other adults while I am watching you, you are seriously going to regret it.

We left the lesson and got in the car.

Fiddle: Giving a long explanation of how house cats and outdoor cats are different.
Faddle: Faddle! Shut up, you talk to much!
Me: Ahem. Faddle, you want to rephrase that? I was enjoying hearing Fiddle's ideas.
Faddle: Whatever.
Me: Faddle, what do you think I should do with you today?
Fiddle: No sugar! No snack! No popsicle! No TV!
Me: Thanks, Fiddle, but I want to hear from Faddle.
Faddle: Nothing.
Me: Nothing? You think you've been well behaved?
Faddle: I'm tiiiiiiiired. I stayed up playing my DS last night. And my fan wasn't on and I was hoooot.
Me: Well, I appreciate being tired. That is something that makes it hard to be happy and awake and pleasant, but it isn't an excuse to be rude to me, your brother and your piano teacher. And staying up and playing a video game you aren't allowed to use on a school night was entirely your decision and you have to live with the consequences.

We continue to drive towards my home. Faddle continues to be a pain. When we arrive he lies across the backseat of the car and complains that he's tired and doesn't want to climb the stairs to my apartment. I sigh. And leave him in the car as Fiddle and I leave for the door. He comes streaking up the driveway screeching that we left him aloooone.

The boys ask for a grilled cheese and so Fiddle helps me to make up a grilled cheese for them to split. The boys settle in with their sandwich slices and I do the dishes. Then Faddle just can't seem to stop himself. He can not resist. He can not just pull it together and get back on track. He's rude and obnoxious. Again.

Me: (removes plate of food from Faddle) Excuse me. That's enough.
Faddle: But I'm eating!
Me: (Using the very-quiet-you-are-in-trouble voice) I have tried to give you several opportunities today to regulate your own behavior. This is unacceptable. I will not be spoken to in that manner. And what's more, you have chosen to conduct yourself like this out in public. I am embarrassed for you.
Faddle: But!
Fiddle: (attempting to save his ungrateful brother) Oh man, shhhhhhhh.
Me: (continuing in the very, very, you-are-so-in-trouble quiet voice) The way that you spoke to your piano teacher. The way that you acted at your lessons was awful. Your piano teacher is a professional, someone who is an expert who is trying to help you learn. She finds interesting music and fun things for you to do and to play. She listens to you when you ask questions and she goes out of her way to make your lessons both good and fun. Today you were rude and disrespectful and you treated her poorly. You couldn't even be bothered to remember your piano music for your lesson. You acted as though you thought what she did was stupid and that her job was dumb. Your actions showed that you didn't think that her feelings mattered at all and you were dismissive of her efforts.
Faddle: Takes a shaky breath.
Me: (moving in for the kill) How do you feel about yourself right now? How do think that your choices have made you look today? Do you feel generous? Do you feel like a good friend and brother? Do you feel grown up? Do you think you have done anything positive today that makes this world, your friends, family or those who you have met any happier?
Faddle: Begins crying.
Me: I suggest that you find a way to get yourself back on track. You are too big to knowingly hurt people just because you're tired and cranky. You knew what you did and the things you said were hurtful, disrespectful and rude. I am not proud of you in this moment. You can do better. Much better.
Faddle: Sniffling.
Me: All right, you think about it and come and see me when you think you can behave differently. Until then, you may stay here.
Fiddle: Can I go?
Me: Indeed! Those who are not rude get to live a life of freedom and privilege, go forth and eat a popsicle!

Guinness Is Good For You

2008-06-12T12:22:00.000-04:00

Remember when The Guinness Book of World Records was like, the coolest thing ever? Was that only me? Nah, other people had to feel that way when they were 10.

Fiddle came home from school clutching his shiny red Guinness Book courtesy of the Scholastic book orders. Oh, those things were so great. I remember frantically circling book after book and then bargaining with my parents to get that Ultimate Annie Sticker Collectors book and the newest Babysitter's Club book hot off the presses.

Fiddle spent the next two hours yelling out random facts as though he suffered from some sort of trivia Tourette's syndrome.

For your useless trivia needs:

Largest Prosthetic Leg belongs to an Asian elephant named Motala in Thailand. It lost its left front foot in a land mine accident in 1999. (SAD!) After an operation involving more than 30 vets, she received a silicon/fiberglass limb big and strong enough to hold her weight.

Damn, you should see this picture!

Those crazy Germans, Tom Sietas holds the record for holding your breath, 14 minutes and twelve seconds under 10 feet of water. But that is nothing compared to the accomplishments of Thomas Vogel who, with only one hand, unhooked 56 bras in one minute.

Ahem, leaving every imaginable bad joke and moving on.

Largest chocolate igloo. (Really?!) Made by Marco Fanti in Perugia, Italy.

I am so moving ot Perugia, Italy. Who thinks this stuff up??

Largest cucumber grown by Alfred J. Cob of the UK, it measured 35.1 inches.

Oh the bad jokes, they pain me to leave unsaid!

Highest rate of alcohol consumption per capita- Luxembourg.

Maybe I can get Marco to build me a chocolate igloo in Luxembourg? That would be doubly sweet!

Sweet Relief

2008-06-11T13:17:00.000-04:00

In news to no one, it's been hot like a sauna here in the northeast. Oh man has it been hot. I am such a wimp about normal heat that there are really no words to describe my horror at seeing numbers like 98 and 100 on my thermometer. Last night the heatwave finally broke. A cold front passed through a little before 11:00 in dramatic fashion.

I stood by a window and watched as the still, sultry night air transformed as the storm approached. Leaves began to flip and turn in the breeze and then branches began to sway then slash. Then the storm hit.

A constant strobe of lightning, freezing the deluge of raindrops for a split second seeming to halt them in mid-fall.

A continual roar of thunder, low and far away then crashing loud and close.

A wall of water falling, flooding the street in an instant, filling the potholes, overwhelming the storm drains.

The way the earth seemed to just sigh in relief and then gasp at the full power of the water and wind that came blasting through.

Alternating blasts of hot and cold as the air swirled with the storm.

And then, it was over. It was about eight minutes of pure natural power and then, just as fast as it arrived it was gone. The air was 15 degrees cooler the rain dripped from the leaves and gathered in puddles and the wind was still again.

Mystery Tree

2008-06-10T17:00:00.000-04:00

In my front yard there lives a mystery tree.

I know a little about plants, but not a lot and this one is a total mystery to me!

It looks like a shrub that thinks its a tree. It doesn't have one solid trunk but rather several smaller ones that are kinda welded together. It does not have big branches, just loads and loads of smaller branches.

In the winter the leaves fall off and there is nothing but trunk and branches, but come spring this thing busts out like there is no tomorrow.

The mystery tree blossoms with a profusion of white flowers. Four long, skinny petals cluster around a little yellow center and the sweet aroma is overpowering. There are many, many flowers in clusters. The whole tree actually looks shaggy!

I thought it was some kind of honeysuckle, given the look of the flowers and the sweet, sweet smell, but I haven't seen anything on the interwebs that looks like this. Most say that it is a smaller shrub, but this thing is massive.

Mystery tree stands about 20 feet high and 30 feet across, far larger than the listings of 8-10 feet.

As I took photos I spotted a robin. He was very pretty among the white flowers but he was most suspicious of my camera and me. He eyed me carefully and fluttered from branch to branch trying to avoid me. No such luck, bird, no such luck.

So if anyone has any bright ideas as to what this mystery tree is, let me know. I search the interwebs for knowledge until then.

Caved In

2008-06-09T13:53:00.000-04:00

I caved. The AC is in.

I work from home with a computer on my lap and I just couldn't take the sweltering flesh-melting heat for one more second. I was totally planning on toughing it out for the three days- no problem. But then they keep adding on days that it will be above 95 and I am a fragile blossom in the heat. I can't take it!

It's 97 today and supposed to be 100 tomorrow. Then after that, it drops all the way down into the upper 80's. Wow, awesome.

So, I dragged the AC out of its storage box this morning and I assembled all the bits and pieces and stuck it in the window. I hate doing it because it blocks the only large window in the living room and in the evenings when it is nice and cool I would prefer to just have a window fan or the breezes, but non.

In good greeny news this model is super efficient and actually costs me less in electricity than running the fan. Hooray, environmental responsibility and comfort!

Farmer's Market

2008-06-08T11:47:00.000-04:00

In the early foggy cool of Saturday morning I strolled downtown to the little farmer's market. Amazingly, I have lived here for a year and never been - shocking!

There were only about 18 stalls, so it isn't huge by any means, but it was pretty. There were far more plants for sale than anything else. Little starter vegetables for your garden like summer squash, tomatoes, lettuces and broccoli, flowers like impatiens, marigolds (good for fending off bugs), lilies and irises are ready for gardens with houseplants in the mix as well.

There were two stalls with local and organic meats. I didn't get anything this time, but it's good to know for the future. There was also a very tempting goat cheese stand, and I will definitely be visiting that later. Mmmmm.

It is very, very early in the growing season here so there were limited options compared to what I imagine the market will look like next month or in August. Asparagus is one of the largest local crops and it is just past peak season so I got a nice bunch of asparagus. There were only two little scrawny quarts of strawberries and they were hotly fought over by several purchasers. So, I left those for another week or two. Soon the pick-your-own places will be open!

I did, however get a bunch of rhubarb. I love rhubarb, it's a favorite of mine for sure. Rhubarb pie, rhubarb fool, rhubarb compote, oh yes. I wish there had been more strawberries, but I have some frozen and a few canned peaches. Not ideal, but whatever.

I found a bargain in a bag of spinach for $1 and head of bibb lettuce for $2. Then I grabbed a bunch of pretty red radishes to use in my salad. There were onions and chives, but I didn't need them and they were a bit pricey honestly. The luncheon salad I made from these was lovely.

I think that there were bargains to be had and certainly the produce is farm fresh, beautiful and tasty. Some of it was pricier than I expected, but it is a luxury to just walk over and pick out the things that I want. I look forward to going back as the summer moves on and more produce is available.

When I get my car back (cross fingers, the mechanic is back from vacation tomorrow!) I can pick up my cooperative farm share and stop by the more bargain-priced roadside stands.

The Reds Are Coming!

2008-06-06T20:30:00.000-04:00

I'm looking at a national map of current temperatures.

Boston - 57 (And the Sox are losing, damnit)
Albany - 73
Pittsburgh- 90

Oooooh nooooo, the heat wave is coming to get us!

My current temperature is 60 degrees and I am in a t-shirt and shorts with the windows open but snuggled under a fuzzy blanket. Tomorrow's predicted high- 92. Sheesh!

The Reds are coming to squeeze out my lovely oranges and yellows!

The photo is from the Accuweather site.

Farting On Command And Other Skillz

2008-06-06T13:38:00.000-04:00

I am an only child. Only! I had lots of friends and many cousins but it is not the same as being a sibling. And it is most definitely not the same as being brothers. There are certain things that you learn to do as a brother. Things like say, farting on command.

Fiddle and Faddle can both do this. I swear. Faddle is a damn artist at it. Amidst gales of laughter and shrieks of horror he finds a way to pin down Fiddle and fart on him. There are screams of 'Safety!' and 'Doorknob!' as the foul stench fills the air.

Both boys think that this is the funniest thing to ever happen. Fiddle has been known to say, "Now that is comedy gold!" while holding his nose and pointing at Faddle.

Generally I evacuate the room and leave them to their revolting game. Eventually they run out of firing power.

This must be a skill only learned by brothers. Well, I guess I'd buy that there is some talented sister out there who can decimate her brother's nostrils at will, but I've never seen it.

The fabulous and horrifying pie graphic comes from an Aussie news site partnered with Dr. Karl, author of Begone With The Wind- a whole book of farts.

Eating Local

2008-06-05T21:07:00.000-04:00

There used to be a blog called Pocket Farm. I adored it. Sadly, the writer decided to close up shop for now (wipes away tear), but I really enjoyed reading her blog about a two city folks taking over a small farm in Maine and starting a new life. She began to eat local and home grown foods and made at least one meal a week from totally local ingredients. Such a good idea could not stay quiet for long!

Last summer as I started to read a wider and wider circle of blogs I began to see more and more mentions of One Local Summer, the 100-Mile Diet, locavores, and a bunch of other terms and I got curious. Turns out that all of these people were trying to find ways to eat more locally grown or raised food rather than mindlessly shop at their local big mart grocery store.

I checked out websites and read blogs and drooled over delicious dishes of beautiful food. The reasons to try and invest in buying local were manifold and included:

You support local farmers, bakers, dairies, butchers and more.
The less your food travels the more fresh it is.
Food is picked at the right time rather than early and shipped or forced out of season.
The less your food travels to your table the fewer gallons of gas it takes to ship it, saving the environment along the way.
You learn what really is in season when it keeps you in touch with the local turning of the seasons.
You meet people!
Excuses to seek out fun new places to shop!

So in the heat of last summer I dabbled but made no commitment to try and accomplish One Local Summer*. But that's all changing! I spent a little time researching over the winter and though I don't have enough information I'm diving in anyway. Over the winter I joined a cooperative farm and my first share is available tomorrow. I am so excited I can barely contain myself.
I am going to try and check out the local farmer's market on Saturday. I've never made it, even though it is about three blocks away - pathetic. But this weekend, in the coming heat I am going to do my best to go and see what goodies I can find.

One-Local-Summer-100-Mile-Diet-Locavore lifestyle here I come!

*Technically OLS is closed because they have all the participants they can handle. But I'm doing it anyway all on my own...

Make A Wish, Say A Prayer, Send A Vibe

2008-06-04T22:19:00.000-04:00

I got some news earlier this week about an old friend. She was in a very bad car accident and she's in critical condition at a hospital far, far away. The doctors are keeping her in a medically induced coma and we're all waiting. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting.

I just saw this woman. We danced and laughed at our college reunion just two weeks ago. We ate cider donuts and laughed hysterically about things that happened 14 years ago. We marveled at how our classmates looked amazing and were doing even more amazing things with their lives.

Now she's in a hospital bed. I am not pleased. The Universe just poked me in the eye and I'm not amused. I am making wishes, saying prayers, thinking good thoughts and sending the best vibes I've got. If you can, you do the same.

Girl's Night! SATC

2008-06-04T01:00:00.000-04:00

This evening I hit the theater with six loverly ladies to take in Sex And The City. Now, I actually barely ever saw the show and couldn't tell you that much about it apart from the cultural phenomenon parts that everyone knows. I only found it fun when in the company of others and never got into watching repeats on my own, especially not in their super abbreviated/edited TBS form. So, I had no big expectations of the movie.

I did get nervous when Darcel casually mentioned, just before the lights went down, "Oh, this is 2.5 hours by the way." Turns out that I never noticed the time passing. There was plenty of funny and the over-the-top bits were just in keeping with the style of the show. They didn't get bogged down in minute details from the show itself so could just figure out what was happening along the way without any trouble. They even did a quasi-mini-recap at the very beginning of the movie for those who weren't devotees of the show.

Some people had claimed it was unwitty, but I found that there were plenty of those moments where they made up a term or just so captured one of those moments you have with your girlfriends that you burst out laughing and poke the person sitting next to you.

Thereby entering the lexicon to be overused and abused in the coming weeks:

"Coloring."
"I gotta get out of my Mexicoma"
"I'm an emotional cutter."

Leaving the theater in a flutter of girly laughter and good will I felt very Sex And The City, if by 'city' you mean a decidedly small town in semi-rural New England...

The Hypnotic Powers Of Donna Reed

2008-06-03T23:06:00.000-04:00

Yesterday I called Tee, mother of Fiddle and Faddle, to go over the details of my not having a car this week. Let me say that for all the numerous manifest good things about Tee and her family, organization is not one of them. Not even a little bit. So, upon mention of the possible Tuesday schedule, the conversation goes:

Tee: Oh, well, the boys have a half day anyway.
Me: Really?
Tee: Yup.
Me: You know you have to tell me this stuff, right?
Tee: YES! I just, you know, it gets lost.

OK, moving on. Having established that I have the guys for approximately five-and-a-half hours I begin reviewing my options. Usually I make some good plans for entertainment and activities, but I was swamped and the short notice and lack of a car conspired against such good planning.

In the end I decided we would just go with the flow. I had done a bunch of laundry and had a subsequent pile of ironing to get through. Fiddle and Faddle both surrounded me and the ironing board, staring in fascination.

Faddle: How do you do that?
Me: Iron?
Faddle: uh-huh
Me: Demonstration, explanation
Faddle: Can I do it?
Me: You betcha. Don't burn yourself. Here's how you don't burn yourself (demonstration). Don't drop the iron on your foot or leave it on the edge of the ironing board so that it falls on your foot. Now, go!

Faddle irons. Faddle irons well! Go, Faddle!
Fiddle irons. Fiddle irons well! Go, Fiddle!

After much fun was had with the iron, the hissing steam and the spraying nozzle I take back control of the ironing. The boys are forced into doing their homework. Faddle is a pain in the ass. He was up late the night before and is overtired. He is whining, complaining, carping and bothering his brother.

Me: Faddle, what is your dang issue?
Faddle: Idunnowhatever.
Me: Can I get you something to eat, drink, read, draw or play?
Faddle: IdunnowhateverImbored
Me: Why don't you go sit in the comfy chair and chill for a few?
Faddle: Why?
Me: Humor me. Try it. If you want we can make pudding later.
Faddle: Finewhatever

5 minutes later, Faddle is sound asleep. He sleeps for the next two hours solid. Tired much? Next, Fiddle gets a book and curls up on the coach while I work on the ironing. Soon he, too is drifting half asleep.

Who knew the soothing, hypnotic powers the hiss of the iron and the image of domestic Donna Reed style afternoons? Nice.

Weekend Improvements

2008-06-02T14:36:00.000-04:00

Despite the whole stupid car fiasco (more on that shiz later), I had a most excellent weekend. Apart from drinks with rarely seen friends I got to enjoy a marvelous Sunday.

First up, the flea market. Oh man, who does not love a flea market? Stop, I'm sure someone out there just hates them, but me, I am not one of those people. I flea market whenever humanly possible for the sheer joy of wandering around looking at all the trash and treasures. This particular flea market is pretty sizable, takes place in a big field and offers the full range of trash and treasures.

Myself, I showed all sorts of restraint this week and did not buy a single thing. Not even the cool mirrored tray that made a nifty photo. But Darcel was on a roll. She's still a little sad that we restrained her from purchasing the giant Elvis bust/lawn ornament/monstrosity. But she did buy a cool old Replogle globe from around 1949. It's black and awesome despite some minor rust issues that will be addressed.

There are several stalls that offer cheap modern stuff from wholesale heaven, wherever that may be. Here you can obtain your lifetime supply of socks, pencils, kitchen scrubbies, and back scratchers. You don't want too many of these stalls because they're all basically the same, but no flea market is complete without them.

We are lucky enough to have several stalls that sell plants, flowers, vegetables, fruit, mostly local produce and things like home made olive oil, soaps, vinegars, salad dressings, spice mixes and more. This is where you turn the corner and see the sign that says 'Limes 5 for $1' and turn to your friends and say, "Mothereffer, please note that we need to save our lime buying for this place next week and spare ourselves the high cost of shopping at Stop & Steal." When you make as much guacamole and drink as much Corona as we do it's best to find the best lime price in town.

We also have lots of food at this flea market. Far more than I have found at most places, there is a huge amount of food available for consumption. We have your standard truck full of fried everything, sausage and peppers, slushies/snowcones and ice cream novelties, Chinese (I know!), hot dogs, and a few little lemonade stands. I could just eat my way through the whole process. But this week we restrained ourselves so that we could go to a local ice cream stand for a treat after the flea market trek.

I have no idea what makes this 'New York Style' since it tasted exactly like regular soft serve, but yum. I love ice cream. It is my favorite food ever and I could eat it every single day. Every. Single. Day. (Wait, I'm sure I've said that before, but it bears repeating because it is so true.) If every you need me to do anything for you such as, "Can you help me move my 400 pound T.V. and futon?" Just tack on the words, "And we'll stop for ice cream." and I'll follow like a sheep right after you into the manual labor.

And then, as if that weren't enough I got to get together with some of the same friends plus some others for cocktails and delicious treats followed by a Rilo Kiley concert. It was excellent. I love me some Rilo and Jenny Lewis in particular. So good.

On Fiddle

2008-06-02T08:42:00.000-04:00

Fiddle is a sweet boy. Seriously, very, very sweet. He likes to read and nothing makes him happier than if everyone leaves him alone for an hour and lets him curl up with a book. Although we aren't related we share this in common, this need to have a book within arms reach at all times. When Fiddle reads he disappears into the book, no sound can reach him and if you want his attention you have to actually physically touch him to break that connection to the book.

Not in the least interested in athletic pursuits, Fiddle would always rather sit than run. He's actually quite coordinated and athletic, but his interest is just not there. I have to persuade or bribe him into joining in our sporty pursuits and he does not love them. He likes to play, but unlike his competitive and blood-thirsty brother, he doesn't have the killer sports instinct.

Fiddle is a little more high strung and sensitive than most kids and it can be hard for him to just go with the flow. There are moments when his need to have things a certain way, in a certain order just drive those around him crazy. We're all in a hurry all the time, racing from one appointment to the next, trying to squeeze in as much as possible for every day and sometimes that does not work for him.

I can see it start. His hands begin to clench and unclench, he looks away to the side and sort of stutters, trying to untangle his anxieties and find the words to explain himself.

He hates to lose, far more than your average bear of a kid, he gets cranked up with higher and higher levels of emotion with every turn of the card or roll of the dice. He takes Monopoly, Trouble, Mastermind and Zooreeka seriously, freaking out if he hits a run of bad luck or if someone else seems to always win.

Fiddle hates to not be perfect. Sometimes his anxiety overwhelms him and it can result in any number of dramas. Most of the time it is the form of tears. He freaks out most often while working on math - when the numbers just won't come up right. Frantically erasing until the paper tears, chucking the pencil sharpener across the room, he makes a wordless shriek. Speaking calmly to him can help, sometimes not. Sometimes the tornado of his freak-out will just spin faster and faster until he burns himself out or crosses the line so that I have to physically guide him to a chair and demand that he sit until this stops.

You can't reach him at his peak frenzy. He is untouched by words of rational, calm thought, lost in a frenzy of feeling upset, angry and a failure, all you can do is wait for him to find a way to calm himself down. Sometimes I hand him a book, sometimes he hides behind my living room curtains, usually a fifteen minute cool down works wonders.

It is a challenge to manage him sometimes and never made easier by Faddle's brotherly need to egg Fiddle on. Why are brothers like that? I never had a brother, it's a bit of a mystery to me. I so want Fiddle to relax, to know its OK to screw up. You can't hold yourself to a perfect standard, none of us can, we do our best. You can ask yourself to always do your best, and if that means that you don't quite make it to number one every time, that's OK.

We've spent a lot of time covering this issue this year. We never stopped playing board games even when they consistently resulted in Fiddle quiting or knocking over the board. He got a consequence and we tried again. And again. And again. Eventually we've seen changes. He still freaks out sometimes and still cries occasionally but he hasn't knocked over a board in months. He has been able to both win and lose games and actually enjoy the process rather than just the result.

Baby steps. Baby steps. Eventually they can get you where you need to go.

AAARRGGGHH!

2008-06-01T08:21:00.000-04:00

Man, there are some things that are just not worth getting mad about. But the frustration and 'why me' factor just build up and make you mad anyway. One of those things, car troubles.

My car is old, I know that. I've owned it for almost 10 years and I bought it used, it's been a fairly decent car for me so complaining isn't entirely justified, but the timing, the timing, the timing.

Yesterday I drove one town over to meet up with some friends and an out-of-town visitor. We had all gotten to take a trip together to work for Habitat in New Orleans this spring. It was wonderful to see everyone and catch up and just spend time together. While we were enjoying our beer and tasty food a huge thunderstorm rolled through. A deluge. After whiling away some extra time the storm passed and we all finally had to head out.

I drove along the back country roads, no car problem. I needed to make a quick stop to pick up a baby gift for a friend. When I turned off the car I thought it made a funny noise, but I can't say that I know much about cars. I shopped, I came out and the car went, 'click'.

CRAP! Crap, crap, crappity, crap!

I took a few deep breaths. I pleaded out loud with the car to just please start.

*Click*

Craaaaaaaap!

Several more desperate attempts and more pleading with the inanimate car brought the same results. I finally caved and called AAA. The dude arrived and we thought just a jump would make it go, but no. No, no, no, no, no. Blargh.

So now I wait. It could be anything. My wish would be for it to be the starter because I replaced that 6 weeks ago and it is under warranty. It's annoying that this happened Saturday evening because no one will look at the car until Monday, so I have days to just sit around and not even know what I'm worrying about.

I try not to worry about stuff that isn't reality yet, but you know, it's hard. You know that stuff just lingers on your mind the whole time.

So, fingers crossed. Frank and I will talk on Monday and he will reveal the horror, because you know, it's always a horror when it's a car repair....

My Favorite Combo: Mini-golf and Ice Cream!

2008-05-31T12:43:00.000-04:00

Fridays are an early dismissal at Fiddle and Faddle's fancy pants school, and usually we have a slate of pre-scheduled activities to accomplish, but this Friday was event free. Cool!

Looking around for a low-cost high-fun option I settle on some mini-golf and ice cream. Sweet!

I had never been to this particular mini-golf facility and as a grown up with an unnatural love of mini-golf I was looking forward to it. This is one of those spots that has mini-golf, a big driving range and batting cages all in one sprawling former-farm location.

Fiddle and Faddle did really well! Arming two brothers with metal sticks can really be a daunting proposal, and it could end bloody, but not today! They listened, they cheated only marginally and did nothing mean to each other.

Also, to my surprise and happiness no one was in tears at any point. Fiddle is particularly inclined to allow his frustration with himself or his brother to overwhelm him so that he winds up in angry tears. To Fiddle's credit he stayed calm when the ball took a bad turn and wound up in a bad spot. His reward- he tied me for first place!

The course was kickin' it old skool with just simple, plain greens using bumps, rocks and angled boards to provide the challenges. The landscaping was pretty, and the course wound around a waterfall and pond as well as gazebos and shrubs. My only problem with this mini-golf course, and really, isn't it a universal problem, was that it was in a blazing sun-scorched sahara of open field. Whhhhhy are mini-golf courses always built with not one scrap of sheltering shade?

I am a pasty, pale, fragile blossom of a girl and by the time we had wrapped up our trip through the course I was starting to turn pink. Blech. I try to carry sunscreen around, but I happened to be out at the moment. [Note to self: Restock Sunscreen, pasty]

To wrap up our afternoon we enjoyed some delicious local ice cream. Yum. My favorite thing ever. I could eat ice cream ever single day. Every. Single. Day

Summer Morning

2008-05-28T11:48:00.000-04:00

Oy, so Wednesday has found me making the early morning trek to the Home of Fiddle and Faddle (HOFF). As mentioned before, it is almost an hour drive. This week the sun was a little higher in the sky since we're still heading into the heart of summer. There were virtually no clouds in the sky so the brilliant morning colors did not last long before turning to bright blue and pure sun. Summer really has come to the Valley and it is gorgeous, even at my crankiest morning hour.

The yellow rays of the sun slanted over the tops of the trees and across the fields. Freshly furrowed, the rich soil looked perfect.

Parts of the forest areas was still quite dark, but as I topped the hills the sun would burst through.

My drive-by photography does no justice to how beautiful the apple orchards are. Row after row of trees, the branches twisted and gnarled, green leaves still in the morning. The tall, unmown grass is wet with dew and glittering in orange and yellow light.

That S**t Is Rough

2008-05-27T20:46:00.000-04:00

SO not work appropriate. But man, funny. Find a safe place away from the kiddies and boss and check it. Also, as it has a million views I am the last to the party. Ever. But if you haven't seen it yet, enjoy. Buahahahahaha!

Continuity, People, Continuity

2008-05-27T12:04:00.000-04:00

I work from home a lot. I often have the TV on for both entertainment and simple background noise. I'm not extremely picky about what is on (and often I just put on music) but I have some standards.

On a typical morning I might watch the 9 AM showing of a repeat of Monk on USA and the Gilmore Girls on ABC Family around 11 AM.

I mention these two shows in particular because I feel like they illustrate a prime example of one of my small annoyances, the random nature of daytime repeat television. Episodes of Monk are followed by Walker, Texas Ranger. Ugh. Really? Not for me. And after Gilmore Girls, Full House. Yikes. Do these audiences in any way overlap? What would compel the schedulers to choose these shows to follow one another? Drives me bonkers.

I can't tell you how many times I've been working and after a few minutes look up disoriented to realize that my background noise involves a bar fight in Texas or a dilemma about a game of spin-the-bottle.

I know, really, the burdens I carry are unbelievable....

Rotten, Rotten, Spoiled Rotten!

2008-05-22T21:00:00.000-04:00

Sometimes (Often!) people are lovely and incredible and generous and fun. They are! They counter all the times that people are petty and mean and boring. For example...

Yesterday I was chatting with Gigi. I was playing shopgirl in my friend's store* and simultaneously watching Fiddle and Faddle who had an unexpected half day and needed emergency child care. It was an overly busy and super committed day in week (and month) of the same.

I have my 10 year college reunion this weekend and I had squeezed in the errands that needed to be done, except one. I really wanted a haircut but I just was out of time. My hair was fine, nothing major in the land of disaster, but I'm growing it out and it had been months since it had seen any scissors. It could use some shape to make it purty.

So, when Gigi said she would be late the next day for the shop because she was getting a haircut, I told her I was jealous. Not in a snarky mean way, but in a genuine envy way.

Fast forward to today and Gigi came into the shop looking totally lovely with a brand new do! She had chopped significant amounts off for a gorgeous bob and looked glamorous indeed. Stopping in front of the counter she said, "I asked and they have an appointment at 1:45- you must go! I will cover the shop. Go, go, go, call them now!"

So I called and booked the appointment and then ran down to the salon where the receptionist greeted me and declared, "You're all set, all you need to do is take care of the tip."

Wow! How insanely generous is that? Gigi had remembered that I wanted a haircut from one off-hand comment that I made in 2 hours of conversation. She then secured me a time, covered for me at the shop, and then called and paid for it! Holy smokes!

I made a quick stop at the florist downstairs from the salon and got a little bouquet of spring flowers. Nothing extravagant, but just a little 'thank you'.

I am spoiled rotten, rotten, rotten.

And, I have fabulous hair that is ready for reunion!

*My friends own a little store and I work there when they need extra help or go on vacation. I usually wind up taking one shift a week to give them some extra help and availability.

Sunrise, Sunrise

2008-05-22T20:14:00.000-04:00

I am not a morning person. I am a night owl. Last night was a late night, which really isn't a problem for me, but this morning was an excruciating 5:15 wake up. Ouch. Don't get me wrong I know lots of people do this all the time. But I don't, and for good reason. I am not very bright first thing in the morning, so if I plan ahead I can execute, but I can not problem solve for a solid hour after I get up. If the apocalypse comes before 8:30 AM I am so going to be caught snoozing or standing while staring in befuddlement at the unfolding drama. However, if it arrives in the middle of the night, no problem, I'll have the reactions of a ninja.

Luckily, today, all went smoothly.

Fiddle and Faddle live a surprising distance away, nearly an hour's drive, and they needed a lift to school. So, at the unholy hour of 6:00 I departed for their far distant home.

Then, the most lovely thing happened, the sky was light and the sun just rising above the hills turning the sky peach, lavender and rose. The sun sparkled off the heavy dew that coated the newly green fields, while mist clung to the hollows in the meadows and the orchards were in full leaf.

My iPod seemed to be in tune and Norah Jone's Sunrise, Sunrise came on as I cut across the countryside. Now the lyrics themselves don't exactly suit, but the chorus of Sunrise, Sunrise seemed to be the perfect morning music.

So although I would never choose to be up and about at that terrible early morning hour, I was richly rewarded with an incredible, beautiful sunrise that would have gone unseen. My only regret is that I didn't have my camera. Of course, tomorrow's sunrise is on its own, I'll catch the sunset.

Under Lock And Key

2008-05-21T22:31:00.000-04:00

Blogger locked me up!

Random.

They locked up my blog and sent me an email saying they had it flagged by some auto-spidering system thingy as a possible spam blog and that they would review and let me know. Really? What about my blog seemed spamish? I haven't even gotten into my love of Monty Python yet in this venue. Anywho they finally decided I'm a real human and they let me back in!

I'm all for keeping out the spam, so overall I support. But I can't quite imagine what of the posts about noisy neighbors and Fiddle and Faddle could have tipped them to think I was a baddy.

Saturday Morning

2008-05-17T07:46:00.001-04:00

Dear Neighbor,

A Saturday 6:58 AM arrival for the loud dudes with the big truck to move your stuff? Really? So glad I didn't mean to sleep in or anything.

Sincerely,
Annoyed Upstairs

The Adventures of Fiddle and Faddle

2008-05-16T20:32:00.000-04:00

Three days a week I watch two boys after school. I attempt to fill their bottomless pits that they call stomachs, oversee homework that they don't want to do, remind them that they are humans and not wolves and attempt to keep the brotherly love outweighing the brotherly homicidal tendencies. It has been a fun year with more than a few frustrations along the way, but today was one of the good ones.
It did not start out on a good note, the boys should have had swimming lessons but they both forgot their gear. Really? Both? Ugh. So, we headed to the Y anyway to burn some time since the guys didn't have any Friday afternoon homework.
Fiddle, the oldest by 18 months, and I struck a bargain where he was required to happily participate in vigorous physical activity for 45 minutes. No whining, no quitting and no complaining and then he could go to his nirvana, also known as the youth lounge. Faddle, the younger, would be stuck with me for any additional time I deemed necessary. Lucky him.
We got a basketball and hit the courts. We had an excellent game of 2 on 1 and worked up a sweat.
Fiddle and Faddle played together well even if Faddle hogged the ball as usual. Passing, an art he has not mastered. After the 45 minute mark I released Fiddle to nirvana and kept Faddle busy on the courts. After whipping me but good at HORSE and another skill game we grabbed some floor and recovered. A bunch of slightly older kids came in to play basketball and many of them seemed to know each other at least a little bit but it wasn't a closed/cohesive group. Faddle looked longingly at the scrambling group playing basketball.
"Wanna play?" I asked. Faddle shrugged. "Well, they might say no, and that would kinda suck, but they might say yes, and then you get to play a pick-up game of basketball and that would rock." Faddle shrugged. And watched. And watched. And watched.
Finally he stood up and tried to nonchalantly catch the eye of one of the players. Taking slow steps forward he edged to the side of the action. When there was a break in the game, he stepped closer, angling for one of the oldest boys until he was able to quietly ask if he could play. I didn't hear the exact exchange and it mostly seemed to be a silent ritual of ducking his head, waving a hand and pointing at himself.
He was in! Definitely the youngest and smallest, but not by a huge margin and he was oh-so-brave to ask! I love to see that bravery rewarded. It can't always be so, but it was this time! He did a great job, made a few shots, passed the ball, defended, got rebounds and even made a steal. They played for 25 minutes before finally seeking refreshment and I extracted Faddle as it was time to go home. He didn't want to leave but was lured with the notion of prying Fiddle from nirvana. His jealousy of Fiddle's access to nirvana knows no bounds!
Oh heavenly day, it was actually a lovely afternoon! Treasure it, treasure it and remember it next week when they try and turn my hair grey.

Wednesday Evening Adventchas

2008-05-15T22:37:00.000-04:00

Last evening I had a chance to catch the band Bishop Allen when they played in town. My friend, Darcel, is a fan having seen them before in a little venue in San Francisco, so she got the cheapo tickets and we headed out. The crowd was small even for a mid-week concert in our not-very-large town, but such is the glamorous life of rock and roll. We were mildly impressed with the first opening band and fled the scene during the second band's set in an effort to preserve our hearing and sanity. We passed the time enjoying some beers and watched the dancing antics of the very young fans in the audience. Finally Bishop Allen took the stage and they were well worth the wait. Skinny, geeky guys who play some serious guitar, the overall sound is pop but not annoyingly so. If you get the chance- check 'em out when they're in a town near you.

And So It Begins

2008-05-15T22:27:00.000-04:00

Technology, I wish I could quit you. Seriously, I already blog elsewhere just between friends and I Twitter and IM and email. I am a heap of technology that just never ends. However, I just couldn't resist having one more blog. This one will be public. Just what the world needs, more of me! Wheee! Lucky world.