So, will I crack like Britney if I don't get caught up on my sleep?? This leaving the house by 6:45am is getting on my nerves. Actually it is not too bad once I am up but at night..... well, I feel quite pooped.

Then the boy wakes up when I go to bed. Or I have to get up to pee and cause him to stir. Then I hold it so that I don't really wake him up. Torture!

Or, I get thirsty. Or just can't settle down. I fall asleep in the middle of movies I watch with Hubby. I am such a bore.

However, the babe almost fell asleep at the dinner table last night. He was holding a peanut butter sandwich.

Labels: Britney Spears, sleep or lack thereof

So, my little boy is in love with peanut butter. And pizza. He could be stuffed like a relleno and you wave a cheesy slice of pizza or a spoon full of peanut butter in his direction and watch out!!! He is ON IT!

Anyway, as my loving charge and his tablespoon of peanut butter was taking the house by storm this afternoon, my husband brought up a beautiful childhood memory.

When he was little, he and his father would take a plate of peanut butter, smother it with syrup (yeah, you read that right) and eat it up with spoons. While it is a sweet memory (one that I never had as all my parents ever did was beat me - I kid, I kid!) it made me want to barf. SYRUP! Now I like sweets, probably even more than the next guy, but SYRUP?

Sweet Jesus!

Then there's his mother. Apparently her culinary skills left a lot to be desired when Hubs and his two older sisters were growing up. They supposedly developed a taste for salsa to help give the food flavor. I guess my father-in-law was told to eat less salt and watch all the things that men end up having to watch so my mother-in-law, being in love with her husband and not wanting him to die an untimely food-related death, decided that bland food was the way to preservation.

I think it is sweet.

So in need of salt, the kids added salsa to everything. (And just in case the mom-in-law ever reads this, Hubby is not the only one to offer up woeful tales of childhood meals. Amy and Sue did it, too. So don't just ground him!)

In her defense, I have never had anything unsavory at her dinner table. And she makes the BEST praline cookie in the galaxy. Oh wait! The broccoli salad made me cringe but that was my own doing because I have an irrational fear of Miracle Whip. It's gotta be Hellman's all the way, baby. Even when I was knocked up and the 10-hr car ride up to visit them made me want to barf, she boiled me a boring old chicken breast and it was the BEST tasting boiled chicken breast. But I do think it is super duper weird that mom-in-law admits that she never liked vegetables. She's a GIRL. Aren't girls supposed to like veggies by default?

That is blasphemy. Especially since she has been married to a dirt scientist for NASA for over 50 years! He knows his soil and he can grow a mean garden. I would be in heaven if my husband could do that!

Oh, and his eldest sister eats jalapeños for a breakfast snack! I've seen it. And eating them raw, sliced up will clear you out. I've lived it.

The middle sister is relatively normal as far as I can tell but exceptionally picky if you listen to her mother and the other sister tell it. And I never really see her eat. Hmmmm.....

Anyway, the whole peanut butter thing threw me and got me thinking about my super weird hubby and his weird family. I love them but they are still exceptionally weird.

Labels: food, hubby, in-laws, weird people

I have never been so excited about ANYTHING in my entire life!!! Ok, the Spice Girls was a HUGE deal but this takes me back to all my pubescent glory!!!!

This is even better than the ELO cover band my husband and I are going to form!!!!! Really I just want to be able to play "Livin Thing" on a fiddle! Maybe we can open for NKOTB. Cause that is how I roll!!!!!

Please don't go girl....

Oh My GAWD! Here is the info from People online!!!

New Kids On The Block Stage Comeback

After months of speculation and rumor, the Kids are coming back. A well-placed source tells PEOPLE exclusively that New Kids On The Block are indeed getting back together.

The band's Web site, www.nkotb.com, which had been dormant, is now back up and running in anticipation of the official announcement, which the source says will be made in the next few weeks.

The site currently features a television graphic with a fuzzy, flickering photos of NKOTB in their heyday, and a link inviting fans to sign up for info.

The boy band, which made legions of tweens swoon in the early '90s, selling more than 50 million albums, became a worldwide phenomenon before calling it quits in 1994.

Eighteen years later, they're still "Hangin' Tough." The oldest "Kid," Jonathan Knight, now a real estate developer, will turn 40 later this year. Since the band's demise, former members Donnie Wahlberg, 38, and Joey McIntyre, 35, have seen acting success, while Danny Wood, 38, has worked as a music producer and Knight's brother, Jordan, 37, has continued to record.

Last night was super duper cool family night. Basically, we pulled out the bed couch and all cuddled while watching a dvd. We got this awesome series from Netflix called Upstairs, Downstairs. Unfortunately, Jeff or I must have clicked on the wrong one because we got disc 3 instead of disc 1. We watched it anyway and are in LOVE with it. We really enjoy British comedies and sitcoms and this is an older one. One of the best ones I have seen. Can't wait to get disc 1!!!

Anyway, if you read the blog below, you know that Hubs tried to put D to bed. By the time I finished writing said blog entry, he was successful. We just need to get him on a routine again. We have been totally lax and indulgent for too long.

While he was asleep, Jeff and I got to finish the last two episodes on the disc. Awesome! Then we watched a movie, A Knight's Tale, which I fell asleep in, and went to bed. Yes, I slept in the bed without waking the kiddo up!

I think he can just sense when I am in the room and wakes up. Last night he was out like a light and only rolled out of his bed into ours to cuddle with me. It was great! I did not cough, have to get up to pee, wake up thirsty or anything. Oh, and a big bonus was me not waking up too hot. The bedroom gets so warm at night. I have no clue what is wrong with my sleep that I am always waking up but last night was nice and peaceful.

It must have been the family dance-off that happened earlier in the evening. Jeff put in the Rocky Horror Picture Show soundtrack and I swear my son danced like his butt was on fire! He was a true dancing queen. This morning when I tried to put my bellydancing video in, he started laughing hysterically! He wanted me to pick him up and dance around the room with him. Well, seeing that the video does not require you to dance with weights (and I am not sure I could even keep my balance) I had to turn it off. He loves to dance!!!

Heehee! I just tried to smooch him when he came in the office just now and he pointed at my face and said "no". I did it anyway! I mean, I am his MUM! I gave birth to him!!! I should get kisses!

Oh, and on a side note, I need to tell good old Britney Spears that they make hairbrushes for a reason and she should seriously reconsider that horrid red shade of lipstick she's been sporting lately. It matches the acne on her face and draws it front and center. Yeah, I know. I should give her a break. I don't always look the best or make the wisest style choices. BUT I DO NOT HAVE A STYLIST!!! While I do have 'people' none of them can dress themselves either so I don't trust them with me. But she has lots of people and access to clothes and cosmetics. Use 'em girlfriend! You hit the wall big time! (Sorry, Kenny!)

Labels: Britney Spears, D, family dance off, sleep or lack thereof

As the title of this post suggests, I am trying to maintain some sanity. Right now, hubby is trying to put our little bundle of screams to bed. Bedtime is such a chore. Usually he falls asleep on the way back from our nightly swim or some late evening errand. Hubs thinks it is time that little man figure out how to do the sleep thing without a car. I agree but I hate hearing him yell.

I remember a time in the not so distant past where all we had to do was lay him down in the middle of our bed and within 10 minutes, he would be out. I have no clue how things progressed to him hating bedtime. You know, he no longer takes naps, either. I guess he is growing up.

Wait, that can't be right. I am 30 and I would love a good nap! Just wait til he is a teenager. He will be begging to sleep in and we will make him get up to mow the lawn.

Ah, the crying has stopped. Seriously. It started when I began this post and within minutes, it has stopped.

So the day was super eventful. Just as I was working myself up into a paranoia about "oh there might be something wrong with my kid-he won't talk and acts super introverted", a gigantic breakthrough!!! I come home from work and am greeted by D on daddy's shoulders, staring at me through the window. This is my favorite because he leaps into my arms for kisses.

He kisses me on the nose and says, 'nose'! Then he was saying something about lemons and milkshakes. What the hell????? Why do kids let you work your self up to the crazy point before they will do what you want them to do???

My parents have told me a zillion times that your kid will play you. They got their little fingers on your buttons. D is too smart for his own good. He even tried to give the mailman a cookie.

We worked on Valentine's Day cards today. We got his colors and stickers out today and decorated things. He made a wonderful little picture, very Jackson Pollock. Hubs and I agree that he is a genius and joked that we should sell his stuff on ebay! Wouldn't that be funny if it went viral that I was selling my two-year-old's drawings and someone bought it! College fund!!!

Speaking of VD, I met a woman last night at this fund raiser thing hubs and I went to and she makes homemade caramels. I guess they are the super soft kind and she makes them special order for VD. They sound lovely and we can't wait to try them!

Labels: D, fund raiser, generic

So the two-year old must be going through a growth spurt. This is the only thing I can think of as to why he insists on waking up between 11pm-2am and staying up til 2am-4am. Now, last night I think it was my fault.

He is a heavy drinker. Just like his mother. Ok, his father.

Anyway, we went swimming last night (the best nightly ritual I have ever come up with) and I thought, "Babelette needs something to drink to keep his belly full so he will fall asleep in the car on the way home, let's get some Powerade from the machine!"

Yeah, I realize this flawed thinking. I realized it at 2am when I was finally getting to sleep. So no sugar anything after late afternoon. Milk or water to drink. But, that is tricky because I am of the mind-set that you don't indulge kids with cow's milk. It is bad for your health, can lead to obesity later in life, and has tons of crap in it. The organic stuff is ok but gets expensive when you let your kids drink as much milk as they'd like to. We buy Lactaid. Hubby is allergic to dairy and Little D seems to have picked up the regular milk intolerance part of it. Lactaid is fine but it costs as much as organic. Soy milk tastes like ass so we will have to come up with something. But I digress.

He's been doing this evil wakey wakey thing for the past few weeks. Not every night, mind you, just often enough for me to want to kill myself. When he wakes, he is hungry. We feed him and the food gives him energy. He really can't help it. Being that I have an 8am class to teach so I have to be up at 6am, Hubalicious keeps Mini-Poo in the bedroom while I ride it out on the couch.

I used to be afraid of sleeping on the couch. Something about being out in the open where Michael Meyers or Freddie Krueger could attack does not appeal to me, never has. I like doors. Shut doors. Just a weird thing about me. I began my couch journey over a month ago when I got sick. I went out there because I was afraid of waking up the fam with my coughing fits. Now I kinda like sleeping out there. It is like my own little room except for the following joys!!!!

I get pounced on by the amazing flying feline, Lizzie, each night.

I get to smell the abovementioned feline's shit every night, wafting from the litterbox.

I get to hear damn cat's meowing when she can see her reflection in the bottom of her bowl.

I get pains from cat making biscuits on stomach and poking dagger-like feet in ribs.

I am cold and lonely.

I get to fume because husband is getting to cuddle up to sweet, radiator child.

It does not make for a peaceful slumber. I could take some pills (Advil PM is my favorite!) but What if I sleep through the alarm??? I love my job and would hate to be late and that is way too unprofessional. I could kill the cat but I did make a promise to her to love her and take care of her when I adopted her. I could turn up the heat in the house but husband would just come along and turn it down again. Then bitch about my jacking the heat up to 42 degrees or something.

Agh! I need some sleep.

Labels: couch, damn cat, sleep or lack thereof

I know, I know. Who says stuff like that? Well, moi.

Back in the days of yore, when I was like four or five, we were visiting some of my parents' friends in Ironton, Ohio. Steve and Liz. They had two daughters, Missy and Ra'etta. Don't ask. Anyhoo, the girls were a few years older than me and used to treat me like their little dolly or 'pet' whenever we visited. They dressed me up like a hooker and piss my dad off and try to get me to say things.

One time, specifically, they told me to go tell their father to "go suck an egg." Why? Who the hell knows! But I did it. If I remember correctly, I got in heaps of trouble although the adults laughed their asses off.

I felt like saying it again.

Labels: nostalgia

Labels: sexybitch

I tried to keep our love a secret. True love can't stay in the dark! Here is a picture of us from some awards show we went to. We do so many of them I can't keep track!

Well, I was hoping to keep it a secret. I mean, after all, I can't deal with the throngs of reporters outside the house. Oh, and the fact that I am now on "bump watch" is too much to take.

Anyway, my boyfriend just announced our happy news on his blog so I thought I would do the same.

Here is what he posted earlier on his site www.matthewmcconaughey.com:

"Got some blessed news… a celebration of life and bounty… a newborn conceived.. yes, my girlfriend Camila Aletha and I made a baby together… 3 months growin in her womb and all looks healthy and lively so far… we are stoked and wowed by this miracle of creation and this gift from God, and so excited for the adventure that will come in raising this child, being a mother and a father, and shepherding him or her through this life… from moms and dads, to family, to community, it takes the best will and support from everyone to raise the healthiest children we have in society… wish us the best, keep us in your prayers, and God bless evolution… thanks for bein fans of me and my work and now this new and miraculous chapter in my life, as me and Camila Aletha and our child do our best to just keep livin… wow, McConaughey"

Congratulations to me and hunk of man-meat.

You know, I am feeling a bit disappointed with my penpals lately. I have one penpal, Elizabeth, who I hear from who, in fact, was not initially a penpal. I signed up for this ghost story sharing thing and she responded to my story. Since then, we have been writing.

I supposedly have 10 other penpals and am still waiting to hear replies. I hope I do not have to wait too long.

Anyway, this is just one of the many reasons I have retired from SwapBot. I had this nasty ass-hat stalk me. Well, in a weird, rating sort of way. I was supposed to send her a list of wishes or something moronic like that. After more than a month, she contacts me to tell me she did not receive the list. Not only does she rate me negatively, she keeps changing the ratings. I must have eight or nine notifications in my email from Swap-Bot where she kept rating, then re-rating me. On the same swap. The good news is I had an electronic 'paper' trail (the notifications and the conversation exchange between us) and I was able to report her. He activity on my profile was deemed 'unwarranted and excessive' and she is now being watched.

I am lucky. I have heard horror stories from other swappers about nasty letters arriving in the mail. Or, about threatening emails. I've just met one bad apple with weight issues and a negative nelly.

Anyway, Swap-bot is not recommended. Just fyi!

Labels: penpals, swaps

Today is the 11th anniversary of my grandfather's death. Yes, that grandfather.

Unfortunately, I can say with the utmost authority and definite certainty, that he is quite disappointed with the way the people he left behind are acting. Lying to others, lying to the ones they love, lying to themselves. Manipulation runs rampant and he is as ashamed as they should be of themselves.

No, I am not pius. No, I am not perfect. No, I am not flawless. I do, however, think before I speak and think before I act. When I act, I do so with an open heart and feel that I give freely with no strings attached. I feel that whenever my grandfather is near, which he visits often nowadays, he is proud. I can also be proud.

It is getting harder and harder to be tolerant. A friend of mine told me recently that she is too old to have people in her life whom she does not like. No matter who they are.

I am starting to feel the same way. Only I keep trying for the sake of my grandfather. Eventually, I will have to say "hey, the guy's dead! Live your own life!"

But, alas, the only guilt I have is "would my grandfather be disappointed?"

So far, I've done well.

Slept on couch to avoid waking family with coughing fits.

Woke up to sound of husband comforting sick kid.

Took sick kid to doctor. Ear infection. Bronchitis. Yuck.

Trip to store to fill Rx and get some groceries.

Come home. Beg and plead with sick kid to take meds. He is now a rainbow of sticky liquids.

Must clean kitchen to mess up again.

Making "I don't want Earl's baby" pie.

I'll let you know how it turns out.

Love, Management

Ok, it was brought to my attention that people were not able to leave comments without having a google account or something. I have changed the settings and all is well.

Now leave your comments.

Management

Yup folks, it is time for my favorite installment, the formerly titled "Sexy bitch of the day." I used to have this on the other blog before it crashed. I think it is time to start it up again only I am shortening it to Sexybitch. Like Sexyback, cause that's what I'm bringing. Never fear though, it will still be filed under "people I've slept with." Gawd! I hope Gpa and Gma I-r-man (name purposely misspelled for search anonymity) never read this! They'll think I'm a harlot! I love them so and would hate to tarnish my image.

Anyway......

The Sexybitch is Steve Buscemi!Look, I know I have "non-traditional" tastes. I like squirrelly guys. If Hubby doesn't bathe, shave, or change his clothes, he looks a little like this. They have those same, deep set, royal eyes. A hit of Slavic, maybe?

Anyway, Steve Buscemi is a total hotty-hot-hot. He's 50 and I'm not ageist. Equal opportunity hotty-hot-hot identifier, here.

Labels: people i've slept with, sexybitch

You know, I've been thinking about high school lately. An old friend looked me up and brought back tons of fun times. Put me in the right frame of mind, I guess.

Anyway I tried to recall all the people I dated in high school. There was Root, Popio, Jason, Popio, Chris, Popio again, Tom, and Jesse. I think that is all. Root was the much older boyfriend who I "dated" in late middle school and it spilled into high school. Briefly. Very briefly. But he was still influential, a wonderful memory, and a really decent guy. Popio was there all the time. Not in a two-timing way, but either we were dating or hanging out as friends. While Root was my first love, Popio has always been a constant. Spectacular person, simply amazing parents, highly recommended. Jason, eh. Chris, eh. They ended things horridly. Let's skip them. We all know about Jesse. Fabulous, best human I have met, super-highly recommended, and totally, utterly taken.

Then there's Tom. Tommy. He the guy that no one expected. Think Green Day. Think Sid and Nancy. He is the guy who introduced me to music, movies, books, fashion. But he had green hair and my parents did not like the look their friends gave them whenever Tom and Bill, his ever present sidekick, came over.

For the record. He was the perfect gentleman. Opened doors for me, paid for my ticket at the movies, made sure I was safe and felt comfortable at all times, brought me flowers at work 'just because', bought me cool surprises from the shops on High Street. This guy was wonderful. Absolutely wonderful. I still can't walk past Big Red or chew it without thinking of him. He would always chew it. Cinnamon smooches.

Oh, and for my parents in case they ever read this: he never tried anything. Nothing.

I remember my friends and family being shocked that I would date him. Me, a snobby stuck-up and he, a punk. I met him at Pizza Hut where we both worked. Yeah, he had green hair. Yeah, he wore t-shirts of bands no one had ever hear of. Yeah, he wore cut-off pants, at least they fit him unlike today's fashion. Yeah, he had Doc's. A piercing or two. Green spiky hair. Oh, and two tattoos. Just two, at the time. His friends were always cool with me. Always nice. My friends, not so much.

Then came Michelle. I think he heard I was dating someone else, rumor courtesy of my lovely, cliquish friends. I tried to call him one weekend and he told me he had gone water skiing with a girl, Michelle, who his father had introduced him to. Seeing how blown away I was, he told me that he heard I was out with so and so. He figured it was ok.

I think after that, he and I winded down, not sure of what to do next. But I never went out with anyone else while I was with him, I was still convincing my parents how wonderful he was. Why do all that work for nothing?

My husband reminds me of Tommy. In days gone by, he dressed the same, listened to the same music, liked the same things. I am now more similar to Tommy (and, perhaps Root) more than any other. I am definitely more similar now than I was back then.

Anyway, baggy pants, punk music, Monty Python, Big Red...... it all reminds me of Tommy.

Here's to you Tom Bommersbach. Maybe by putting his name out there I will get to reconnect with him one day and find out how things are going.

Labels: love, nostalgia

Even though I am still feeling like Cryptina, life goes on. This morning I had to pick up the textbooks I needed to teach this semester. Although I am not tenure track, I get one of their coveted window offices all to myself. Love it!

It was so difficult to maintain composure when meeting with my boss. I only had a handful of coughing fits. I am desperate to get better. In fact, I feel just as bad as yesterday.

This has gone on entirely too long. It has interrupted the natural cycle of things in my life and I am pissed.

*cough, cough*

I am dying. Truly dying. In fact, this is the new me. Or, how I've been feeling the past week.


As you can see, I am in bad shape. Went to the doctor this morning. It was originally Hubby's doctor but I stole him and love him. He is super funny and today I informed him that even though his is 64, he is still a hotty-hot-hot. Yeah, I said that.

Anyway, I have a bronchial infection and some secondary infection. He prescribed this Tylenol-5 type cough medicine, antibiotics, and diflucan (for the antibiotics). Well, I am going to get the antibiotics but will hold off until absolutely dire. Every time I take them, I feel worse. My skin is gross, I get nauseated, start baking bread of all different varieties. Last time I took them my flora and fauna got so whacked that I was out of commission for a month. Then, when I thought I was in the clear two-weeks later, I got an evil case of thrush.

Yeah, try passing that shit onto your child and see how fun life can be. Just like Disneyland! Hot, sweaty, uncomfortable, screaming little people surrounding you....

Anyway, I also found out by the 'girlie bits' doctor that I need to come in for a 'girlie bits' exam. JOY! And, I need to get some vaccinations. $600. Oh, and even if I did have insurance, the vaccinations are not covered.

Until I start feeling better (if I ever do) please call me Cryptina.

Labels: doctor, sick

The little artist up close. He is serious about his 'Craft'. Heehee.

Anyway, his hair got a little out of control. So I cut the curls last week. Could not get a comb through them. I thought they would be lost forever but it was better than a matty-hair little child. I didn't want him to look unloved or not cared for.

It was super hard for my heart to cut those baby curls.

I am proud to say, they are back. His hair, albeit shorter, curls up around his hairline in these darling little strawberry twirls.

He is so going to hate me for gushing like I do when he is older. Talk about an embarrassing mum! He lets me smooch him in private (mostly) but in public, he pushes my lips away. Unless, of course, he is playing it up for the girls!

I mean, 'girl' was his first word, you know.

I am a firm believer in teaching kids to be grateful. Therefore, I am a big fan of the thank you note. I bought Declan these form-type thank yous with blanks that you fill out. Since he can't write, I do that part for him but he gets to put stickers and colors on everything.

I mean, if someone thought of him, spent time or money on the thought/gift, and sent it to him, the least he should do is let them know he received it and the gesture is appreciated. Sometimes I get busy but that is no excuse. I always make time to express my gratitude and I hope that I instill this in my son. It is very important to me. I have sent gifts to people and was never notified that the gifts were even received! Maybe they didn't like my gifts, maybe they have never heard of saying thank you. That is fine, if that's your thing, but its rude.

I get enough rudeness at work, especially since I teach. Funny thing is that I teach supposed adults. I find that teaching them how to write is quite comical when they don't know how to conduct themselves in the classroom thanks to their lack of common courtesy and sense. Not all students are like this but I find that as my teaching career goes on, I am met with more and more students who would rather talk during class (either with a peer or on their phone) or would rather text message or sleep. I find myself having to remind (lecture) them about basic manners. I refuse to have my son grow up and behave like he has no sense or was raised by hilljacks. But, I digress.

I don't have a picture of our recent thank you note festivities but this picture is from my son's Christmas Card Extravaganza. I got these cards for him to color to send to his grandparents. (Sorry, he isn't to the point where he can color a million of them to send to everyone!) We set him up at his little table with markers and stickers and turn him loose.

He knows what to do. Good boy.

Anyone who really knows me knows that my grandfather and I were like conjoined twins. We went everywhere together. Much to the dismay of others in my family, I was his favorite. Period. I know this may ruffle a few feathers, but that is only because it is true. Even after his death (he will be 11 years gone Jan. 13th) I still have a connection. I've always had weird connections like this. Seen weird things, had conversations with people who others claim I couldn't have, known details and secrets I shouldn't have learned...

I am not religious. Not in the slightest. I am fascinated by religon and have an undergrad major in it, but I do not subscribe to any nor do I find comfort in it. However, for some reason, I still have a connection with my deceased grandfather. As crazy as it sounds, I see him several times a year. Just to prove I am not going all Britney Spears crazy on you, I can tell you that my husband has seen him. And my husband was not in the picture until a little less than five years ago. So there.

Anyway, my point is that 'Pa' is super groovy and this is just one of the many stories I am sure to share with you that involves the two of us.

November, 1983. I remember it very clearly. My grandfather and I had to go to Kroger (grocery chain in Ohio) to pick up a few things for my grandmother's pre-Thanksgiving preparations. I think it was the day before the holiday. While we were there, I caught a glimpse of a man in a skirt and knee socks. I started laughing and gestured for my grandfather to look.

He told me that what the man was wearing was called a kilt and it was totally ok for the guy to wear it, he was Scottish. We moved in for a closer look, me trying not to break out in hysterics. No worry. I was in too much awe listening to him speak to his companion. Pa gently nudged me down the aisle and around the corner. I asked why the man was speaking funny and my grandpa had to explain that the man had an accent. Because he was from another country, he had different customs, the kilt, and a specific way of speaking. I was so in love with the way that man spoke that my grandfather let us backtrack and follow that poor Scot all around the store. So as not to seem creepy, my grandpa would make little jokes down an aisle or two like "Wow, we must have the same shopping list" or "You again?" In fact, we were the lurky-loos.

At the end of my first stint as a stalker, we had to go back and get another bucket of ice cream as it had softened too much.

Now, I have already mentioned that my grandpa and I were tight. At Christmastime, my grandparents bought little tokens for all of their grandchildren. There were a few of us who lived close and saw them more often who got a little something extra. In addition to this, my grandpa would take me out and let me pick out something special just for me. Of course, I was not supposed to tell anyone, not even grandma, and I am sure I will get a lecture the next time he visits.

That Christmas, my grandpa and I were out doing our shopping and he asked me what I would like for my special present. Immediately I knew.

"I want an accent."

Of course he asked me to repeat. Then he had to break it to me that he could not buy me an accent; rather, it was something that just came on its own, from living in different parts of the world (and sometimes even the country). He had such a good laugh he turned beet-red and had to catch his breath.

He told me that I could have an accent and all I had to do was go to another country and just be myself. My own voice would be different from the others. It was then that I decided I wanted to be a traveler.

It is my Pa's fault.

In the end, my special gift???? A fancy pencil sharpener that is a mini, cast-iron globe. It is lovely and colorful. I still have it and once the camera is charged, I am taking a picture of it and posting it.

Labels: memories, Pa

I recently got the movie, Waitress, courtesy of my wondrous Netflix account. It was Adrienne Shelly's debut, and final, film. She died before it came out. I do not want to be a downer, so I will get to the title of this blog entry. Follow the link to learn about her, if you are interested.

The main character in the film is a pie maker, both sweet and savory. To help deal with her stresses and anxiety, she will quietly breathe and come up with pie ideas in her head. (Kinda like a form of meditation.) In one scene, she finds out she is pregnant with her miserable husband's baby and she feel lost. This ruins her escape plan. She immediately thinks up a pie entitled, "I don't want Earl's Baby Pie."

Silly name. And with my luck, the pie I remember is probably some other silly name. But for now, we'll go with my weird memory.

She takes a pie crust and makes a bottom layer of brie. She puts a mound of ham in the center and pours egg mixture over.

As soon as I saw this I knew I wanted to make it.

Unfortunately, I have been sick, can't taste anything, and haven't got out to the store. Hubby is making me leave the house today and is taking me out. The last thing I want to do is move but I know I will feel better and do need to get out.

Damn husbands.

Anyway, I am planning on making it tomorrow. Hope it does not turn out like the biscuits I made last night. They were total shit and I followed that recipe to a T. It was from allcooks or something. I used to make the bestest biscuits in the world. It was my grandma's recipe. We moved and I can't find it to save my life. I am beside myself with heartbreak.

Sad thing is, it is only four ingredients but I cannot remember the proportions.

Labels: flim, grandma, recipes

Hubby and I have decided that our next child will be another son.

We will name him Arthur Noah.

We will call him Art.

Art N. Craft

Hehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehe!

Sometimes, its just for laughs. It is just for us. Damn, we are a bunch of crack ups.

Or, just on crack.

Labels: names, progeny

So I feel quite thankful at the moment. I have a lot to be happy/thankful for on a regular basis but today I am feeling especially verbal about it.

Thank you Mom for giving me some of the best, albeit unsolicited, advice on kids. Take your kids out to dinner with you. Get them used to eating at a table in a public place at a super-duper early age and they will know how to act at a restaurant. Too often you see kids screaming and making a spectacle of themselves (and their parents). My son will actually sit and eat and play at the table. Of course, he has an occasional meltdown but that is when he is sick or we have stretched him to his limit. I followed the advice "Your father and I took you and your brother out to eat as babies and got you used to the idea and never had a problem" and it worked.

Thank you Dad for being a Christmastime DORK. Each year when I stayed under my parents' roof, even as I was a married adult, I would wake up to this horrible shouting and clamor. Every Christmas morning my Dad would try to 'catch' Santa Clause as he left our house. Seriously. Dad would run around the perimeter of the house yelling "Wait, Santa! I'm gonna catch you!" Little yappy dogs would be chasing him, adding to the noise. He would also go inside and bang pots and pans around. He created this mass chaos only to fall to the ground in an exhausted heap once he say my brother or me come down the stairs. "Oh, I tried to catch him! You just missed him! He bested dear old Dad!" It is this silly little Christmas moment of mental illness that I fondly remember and greatly miss. This is the reason I might keep up the guise of Santa with my child(ren).

Thank you Iris for listening to me yap about all the great injustices and pains inflicted upon my person. I know that my incessant bitching has rendered you deaf, which in turn allows you to continue listing to my pointless chatter. I genuinely feel mush better when we hang up. A moment of clarity comes over my rattled mind.

Thank you Jeff for staying up until 4 in the morning a couple of weeks ago to surprise me with a clean house when I woke up. You rock. I'll get to other wonderful things you do later.

Thank you lymph node on my neck for swelling up and freaking me out. Totally needed that. As if this nasty cold was not enough.

Thank you Pippa for having and awesome British accent that mesmerizes me into silence.

Thank you Jeannine for introducing me to the wonders of those mini pizzas. Lunchtime is super easy now.

So the site is now up again. I am at blogger, thank Buddha, and I feel more in control of the logistics of this site's composition. I am still leery of customizing the code to display pictures and fonts and taglines. Small steps....

You know, I used to be so good at web design. Not brilliant or anything but I have successfully customized several sites in my day. I nervously await another tragedy of internetty proportions (see third blog down).

I shall soon send out this link for all to share.

Thank you,
Management

Labels: blog, management

Pink Grapefruit.

I visited the family this past November. When I was at Dad's house, I would get "caught" washing/sniffing my hands. Seriously, you can't wash your hands without sniffing them when using delicious foaming anti-bacterial hand soaps. Soap much too girly for my Dad but he uses it anyway. Even a hardened manish-man can't resist the delicate bubbles and delightful aroma of citrus. A different scent at each of the many sinks. I made the rounds. Often.

Guess who got hand soap for Christmas? Guess who got an array of scents? Guess who got a freakin' year's supply of soap?

Moi.

I mention this because I conjure up memories each time I wash the paws. Isn't that a nice gift? One that provokes memories? I like it because it is something I totally use, something I would never buy myself (too cheap), and something that is not wasteful.

I like that.

Labels: dad, generosity, ohio

I would totally have to have Aquaphor. It is my fav. I fell in love with this product back in 1999-2001 when I worked for Kila, the skank, who I love dearly and consider a friend even thought the hussy did not respond to my "Happy Space Christmas" wishes.

Anyway, to make what could be a long story short, we were an orthopedic surgery/sports medicine company. We supplied different products to hospitals and private practices. A rep came by our office one day and dropped off a couple of cases of Aquaphor mini tubes. It is like petroleum jelly but professionals traditionally use it for burn victims. It it good stuff.

I have been using it on my lips as a balm since we first met. Any dry skin finds relief with this stuff. In fact, I recently recommended it to my dad when he told me his step-daughter had extremely dry lips. Like to the point of cracking. I told him to get some. He did.

The stuff works and I hope that this little product promotion will help me in my quest to get a little case of mini tubes to keep in my purse!

Labels: desert island, product promotion

I am too tired right now to commit the words to this blog describing how completely fumed I am. Earlier today, I tried to do something to my original Lucy Lime blog. It was something I obviously had no business doing. Something that my very limited realm of internetty talent could not figure out.

I wanted to put a logo-type thing on the site. Let's leave it at that.

Anyway, I totally screwed up Lucy Lime dot com. Royally and utterly. It was so messed up that I could no longer log into the blog. You could type in the web address and pull up the blog but none of the pictures would load properly and I, the administrator, could no longer log in. Anywhere.

Faithful readers, you may remember my swearing upon the name of WordPress in earlier blogs. Well, the evil blog program I tried, in vain, to use has let me down tremendously. I tried to contact support but found that there is none. Only forums in which to discuss issues. Forums in which I am unable to log in to.

So, in order to have some sanity, I consulted with my internetty, computer fix-it husband and am now over at blogger.

The previous blog is dead and gone. I have been able to salvage several of the 50+ original entries, cataloged below for your reading pleasure.

Blogger is a breath of fresh air. It is easier than that damned WordPress and not as lame as the other options. This is the blog I plan to keep. And keep updated.

Thank you, Management

Labels: frustration, internet

So most all of you know I was married before. If you didn’t, I was. He is a marvelous human being and I adore him so this will be the only time I point out a HUGE wrongdoing on his part. He is on the right in the picture above. Don’t ask, I know they both look sunburnt and greasy. They must have been sunbathing in baby oil earlier in the day while me and Gabs were cooking and cleaning and taking care of all the children.

There was a time I really wanted a Britney Spears CD. I really, really wanted it. I put it on my Christmas List and everything. My former husband told me that there was no way he was going to go into Media Play, look for that CD, stand in line with it, and actually buy it. It all boiled down to a man not being seen with that. Ok. He would buy tampons and stuff because they were obviously not for him but heaven forbid someone think a Britney Spears CD was his!!!

He has matured greatly since then. At least for the sake of my sis-in-law.

Knowing that my husband was not going to man up and buy me Britney Spears, I asked my pseudo-husband for it. Pseudo is a gay male, a few years older than me and has been in my life for years. YEARS. Like I met him before my first husband and I got hitched. He loves me as much as any real hubby, so I told him about wanting the CD.

“Really?” was all he could ask while erupting in very nervous giggles. He apparently was not comfortable enough in his gayness to buy it. I can’t tell you how many clubs I went to or how many Long Island Iced Teas I drank for that man and he would not buy it either!!!!!?

Neither man in my life bought me that CD. My mom did, though. She picked me up a copy when she bought one for my seven year old niece.

Shut up. Bitches.

So why do I love Jeff Craft? He has put up with me for a while now. Even though he agrees with Jesse on numerous things, he has less of a sense of shame.

When I told him I wanted the new Spice Girls CD only available at Victoria’s Secret until January 15th, he didn’t even flinch. Nope, not a single flinch. In fact, I have since found out he tried to go there to get me a copy but waited in line for 30 minutes only to fight with an enormous woman who cut in line.

So, no CD, but the effort was there. And I truly love him for emasculating himself for the love of the Spice Girls his wife.

Empty handed, yet he took one for the team. I have never known such love.

I read. A lot. It is just what I do. My husband matches my reading, book for book. Our hope is that our son will love to read. We try to cultivate a respect and love for the written word with him. Of course, our fear is that he will hate to read (like my family) and that he will be a Republican (like my family even though some deny it). Please, let it not be so.

After an account of a recent bookstore trip, a friend remarked that the “lot of you are voracious readers.” True.

So I am a book-o-holic down to my bones. Here is a picture of my bookcase. Well, part of it. Not all the books are on there in this picture and if you look closely, you can see that many shelves are double stacked.

Since this picture was taken, my husband, son and I have acquired about 100+ additional books.

It is a nasty little habit. Ok, a bit habit. But we ask for books for presents, find killer deals at estate sales, library sales, rummage sales, and we hardly ever buy a book at full selling price. I cannot remember the last time I paid cover price.

We’ve got this book buying thing down to a science.

No, not ‘tagged’ as in graffiti’d, but ‘tagged’ as in an online friend of mine has completed a survey or meme and has now tagged me to do it. I’m it!

Ellia at greenbeanbaby has tagged me and here are seven, lovely (and hopefully interesting) factoids about me. I will try to make them new and different from anything posted on this site previously.

1. I recently cut two feet of my hair off! Actually, thinking back, it was in June, right before my Las Cruces trip. Wow, time flies. Anyway, I remember the exact moment it was decided that the hair needed to be off. My husband and I were rollerblading on a Thursday evening. My super long hair was whipping in my eyes and mouth. We live in Corpus Christi, a very windy place, and even with it pulled back, it will attack you. It was also hot. I have thin hair but am blessed with TONS of it. In fact, people assume it is so very thick until they touch it. It traps heat well. Too well.

Hubby said, “Just cut it off!” And cut it off is what I did. The next day I marched in a salon and the gal took 24 inches off. I wanted her to take more but she told me I better “live in it a while” so I didn’t hate it. I don’t think I have ever had cutter’s remorse! When I got home, hubs took a razor and swiped it down to about 1/2 inch on my head. A true pixie cut!

2. I have crafting ADD/ADHA. I get super excited about a craft and pour my heart and soul in it.

Then, I find another craft medium and get sucked in.

I am not too impressed with the new, trendy crafts. I do not like to indulge in things that I know tons of people are doing. For instance, at every craft fair, I will find the same array of jewelry makers, greeting card/scrapbook designers, scarf knitters, and baby item crafters. I know loads of artists who do all this stuff but very few who offer something novel and exciting to the respective craft. I will try a craft, and revisit many for the sheer joy of it, but unless I feel I can expand or enhance the craft somehow, why continue? Why continue to make beaded necklaces that anyone with access to a Hobby Lobby can make? If I can’t funk it out, LuLi-style, I must move on.

3. I hate country music. No, I HATE country music. It puts me in a poor frame of mind and depresses me. Not sure why, it is not just the cliche idea that in that genre your spouse leaves you, your dog dies and your truck gets stolen…it is something much more. I remember the early 90s when my parents would listen to nothing but country music and go as far as to take line dancing lessons with their friends. My parents were not ‘hicks’ they just hopped on the bandwagon that everyone else was riding. I think it was around that time when country adopted a pop feel and crossovers started. It was in vogue, if you will. It was also the time when my parents started to truly provide a source of embarrassment, sans their lack of musical taste, and I was that angst-filled teen. Country music takes me back to that special time.

Although I am sure that there are intelligent people with tastes leaning toward country music out in the world, I have been hard pressed to find such an aficionado who thoroughly know what the word means. Please know, I am not intending to insult such characters, I have yet to find one I truly relate to. It seems like our values and lifestyles can be identified by our musical leanings.

Scathing of me, I know.

4. I LOVE my ex-husband. AND his wife. In fact, if I had the divine ability to select for myself a brother and a sister, Jesse and Gabi would be them. (My friend Chrissy would be my sister, also.) Jesse and I got married quite young. I was 18 and he was 21. Why are parents did not intervene, I have no clue. I guess the old idea that youngsters do as they please, with or without parents’ consent, rang true. Still, I would not trade it for anything.

I think I might be one of the only people in the world (at least it feels this way sometimes) to say that I got to grow into my own at the side of my best friend. Our marriage cultivated an irreplaceable friendship. We woke up a realized we were true friends, rather than true lovers.

And now, after over 13 years, there is nothing I would not do for him. Or Gabi. Or their beautiful daughters.

I would give him a kidney if he needed it. AND, I wouldn’t even charge, So there.

(And yes, our spouses are ok with our friendship. They are not as insecure as most would be.)

5. Ever watch Mermaids? In that movie, Winona Ryder is a Jew who wants to be catholic. Truly, she wants to become a nun. Unfortunately, whenever she sees one from the local convent, she gets tongue tied and falls silent. While I do not want to become catholic, I do love nuns but find myself speechless in their presence. No, wait. I giggle hysterically as I run away.

I am dying to talk to one, I just clam up.

6. I can remember stupid details about stupid, trivial things. The important ones I learned in calculus or anatomy and physiology…. I have no idea what part of my brain those are stored in. But, I can recall each outfit, down to the jewelry, shoes, and panties that I wore on every first date with a new guy I have ever been on. I can remember the first time I ate shrimp. I know at exactly which moment I got my first kiss (and all subsequent and graduating naughty milestones thereafter). I remember, verbatim, nasty things that were said to me growing up.

I cannot remember all the books I read. I will read them over and over and they will seem so familiar but my memory must be jogged. I cannot remember all the lyrics to all the musicals I have ever watched until after I hear the songs twice more. I cannot remember how to “tie off” my fiber arts although I’ve made countless things.

7. I am still mad at my mother and father for many things from my childhood, one specifically angering time being:

When they made me eat okra. My mother decided to try something new. It was okra from a can. Anyone who has ever had okra from a can knows how much it resembles boogers. I was never one of those vile children who ate their mucus so this was as close as I got.

Mother served it to all of us and my dad insisted we “eat up.” He further provided some bullshit about it being good for us. Funny, he never finished his and we never had it again. Ever. Yet I still remember this wrongdoing like it was yesterday.

Wow, now that was sort of fun. I am sure it would have been better had I not gone off on my rambles. I suffer from windbaggism. You would think that as a writing instructor, I would know how to edit myself, alas, I do not. Thank you for reading thus far.