JAWS

Just when you thought it was safe to go back into daycare...

My son bit two children last week and you never saw two parents more freaked out.
No, not their parents. Me and Guy.

He called me at work to tell me, which sent me spinning into a mental spiral of worry.
By the time I'd gotten into my car to fly home to get our little "savage", Guy had already researched everything there was to know about toddlers and biting. I imagine he Googled with the passion of someone looking for naked pics of a pregnant Britney Spears (none exist that I'm aware of, and how disgusting of you to wonder).

He explained how he wanted to handle things with the daycare: Coordinate our efforts via a face to face meeting where we'd discuss how they handled him and discuss how we could mirror their efforts at home in order to maintain consistency. He was focused and concerned about proper child rearing practices. I was afraid I'd see a parent of one of the afflicted and get the talking to of my life and that they'd kick my son out of daycare and we'd get sued by the other child's parents. My husband was strategizing and I was catastrophizing.

Nervous as a Korean engineering student making his debut on American Idol, I pulled into the parking lot. Nary a car. I prayed silently that we'd slide on outa there. When I entered Spencer's play room, there he sat in a table-highchair hybrid: Approximately two feet around him, separating him from every other child in the room. All I could hear in the back of my head was: "I ate his liver with fava beans and a nice Chianti".

And there was my angel baby.

Spencer was looking up at me, sweet as could be. I felt horrible. I picked him up, apologizing to the director profusely. I waited for her to chew me out (oh BAD. no pun intended. honest.), expecting dirty looks and tongue clicking. Instead it was business as usual.

They pointed out his victims and showed me that although they'd thought he'd broken the skin on one girls finger, it seemed to not be so bad. One victim, a little girl, came right over to hug Spencer. She was forgiving her attacker! It was amazing to learn she'd been accosted by my sons chompers and wasn't trying to pull his hair out.

The other little boy was about his age and tends to be his riding partner when they're all taken outside in strollers. Apparently they were having a WWF Smackdown right in the stroller. Spencer won without having to go to a closed cage match. Noone was worse for the wear really except me.

I skulked out of there with Spencer on my arm, smiling awkwardly and making small talk as we left. The only thing he's bitten since are my finger (cause I was trying to clean orange crayon from the inside of his mouth) and his three regular meals accompanied by ice cream.

If I see his teeth bared I just have to keep repeating the following mantra: "Redirect...Redirect...Redirect". Or buy a muzzle.

Mecca or Hell?

I have found it. Both in one place. Moorestown , New Jersey.
The five mile radius around my office is spilling over with every type of store, strip mall and mega mall. I dare say I was overwhelmed by this new reality.

Do you realize that in one day I could probably design, build, furnish a house, buy enough clothing, accessories and shoes to last a lifetime, eat and eat and eat, work out, eat some more, buy bigger clothing, go to the doctor with my higher cholesterol (from all the eating), get physical therapy, drink cappucino and all kinds of revved up coffee drinks until I am spinning like a top, buy a good book, get someone a greeting card and stock up on enough tchotkes until I can barely fit all the purchases in my car, go outside with the intent to write or read or clean something and end up in my car magnetically pulled in the direction of clothing on sale.

Narcolepsy is taking over. Eyes feel like little elephants are sitting on them.

Goodnight good people of LA and MISS. Try try try not to go crazy and kill eachother.
I am going to bed.

-K

Welcome to the Jungle

Ok, I admit it, it was a madhouse.

As we entered Subjective Family Fun Center today, my friend Barb asked me if I felt a little unsettled by the chaos all around us. I'd never been to a "family fun center" or "soft amusement park" or "indoor amusement center" with Spencer before, and I didn't want to feel intimidated right out of the gate, so I said no, that yeah it was wild, but it didn't have any effect on me really.

As it became more and more necessary to yell to one another as if we were in a bar, I started to wonder a little. As we were nearly run over by frantic parents chasing their candy-and-pizza-wired kids, I wondered a little more. As it became more and more apparent that parents go to these places to let their kids run wild like beasts; all over my son and my friends' toddlers, I was getting downright flabbergasted.

I spent half my time there parenting OPP (other people's progeny), trying to keep them from jumping on top of Spencer, who was happily flumfing around in what amounted to a box full of balls. The other half I spent trying to find my friends who were busy chasing their little ones around, or reassuring them after they'd been attacked by "wildekids". At one point I became indignant enough to approach the front desk and inquire assertively about the policy for monitoring the "Toddlers Only" area, since over half the jumping monkeys in there were at least 5. A disgruntled looking adolescent wearing her requisite staff t-shirt would patrol the area, a bit like the way the late night security shift does at your local 24 hour supermarket.

It appears today has taken its toll on me starting 5 minutes ago. I am falling asleep as I type this. More elaboration on the decline of civiliation when I return.

Cliff Notes for August

We bought & sold, we moved, we're diggin' in.

I was starting to get used to a weekly schedule of taking care of Spence MWF and having him in "school" twice a week, which allowed me to run errands and shop for stuff like paint, spackle, outlet covers, and the like. Then it happened: I got a JOB.

That's right, the thing I've been chasing since January: Working Mom status. It all happened in two days and now I'm driving two hours a day to get to work. I'm getting up WAY early. Good moolah and the gig is cool so far - it's amazing how when you've been sort-of doing the same stuff for awhile and you get an opportunity to flex your skills on a larger scale - it's like getting out of a small car after a long drive. It takes awhile to get where you're going and you had a really good ride, and now it's great to get out and open up into a larger space that can hold you.
Not sure if this analogy is working because I'm tired. In any case, compliments all around.

Got a chance to go out and tie one on at a local pub/karaoke bar. If secondhand smoke and 2$ pints (DOMESTIC, duh) are your bag, then go visit the Riddle Ale House on Baltimore Pike/Route 1 near the Granite Run Mall and Riddle Memorial Hospital. This is, of course, in Delaware County near where we're living now. All the trappings of suburbia with a tinge of city and low key everywhere. It's really a great mix we have around here. Now, if I could just get some shopping done in Moorestown.

I'm working almost right next to the Moorestown Mall. It's temptation hell. More stores than the eye can take in, more deals and sales and that's just the one flanking the mall on all sides. It's like a fortress of shopping. I mean it.

Spence started in a new daycare. It's near us so it's convenient that way, and Guy has really taken on the mornings with our man Spencer. He's in "school" more than I'd like, but as they say, hundreds of thousands of moms and families do it every day, so it's a matter of adjustment, right? Adjust THIS. It's weird.

Here's a Spencer primer for ya:

bwa bwa = Mommy's keys or anything I can see that looks fun to play with
ca = the dog, a door, outside, a bird
uh oh = "Pick that up, won't you?"
pu pu (or bu bu) = hubba bubba (I taught him that tonight)

We're learning sign language rapidly and he's more and more into everything, ESPECIALLY chalk, pencils and paper. He and his daddy have drawing/art time at least 3 times a week.

Note: Can someone explain to me the significance or appeal of Goodnight Moon? He is nearly as obsessed with this book as with my keys. Is there something I don't get?
I would appreciate a little analysis.

Speaking of keys, he now wants them when they're in the ignition keeping the car on. I think subterfuge may be necessary. A new keychain may be in order.

Ok, my laptop is running out of juice.

Technical Note: Get a camera phone.

Strange Noises, Stranger Names

Last night we slept in our bed in our room for the first time since we moved here.
It was shaping up to be great until we turned on Spencer's monitor and heard something that sounded like whales on land calling out to a large moose. Guy and I both bolted out of bed in confusion. When we opened the door to our room we could hear it coming from outside. NO idea what it was, but it suddenly felt all too much like a scene from the M. Night Shamalyan film Signs. We were freaking to say the least. Somehow I got to sleep, assuring us both that I'd call the township to find out what kind of an alarm they have going off in the middle of the night.

When I called the township this morning, the representative did not know what I was talking about. I even demonstrated for her over the phone (would have sounded REALLY weird if she'd had me on speaker). Guy told me later that it wasn't a fire alarm cause he'd heard one earlier that day. I suppose I'll need to listen for it again.

In an unrelated subject, I leave you with this question: What is "wishniak"?

Relocationitis

Due to extreme fatigue and the need to look up outlet covers and find out how to attach a new clothesline (I can't even START on that one), I will summarize the past week using bullets...

• We did it. We settled on our old house and closed on the new one on Thursday May 21.
• Spent the next three days steaming old wallpaper, dusting, cleaning, whining about smelly things and pulling out disgusting old carpet.
• We moved on Monday July 25 and Tuesday July 26. We slept in the living room of our new house until today when we finally got the bedroom painted.
• Spencer spent alot of time in daycare. I spent alot of time driving him there and back.
• I think Guy has a hernia. He thinks he may too, but hmmm, has a doctor seen it yet to have a look? uh, NO.
• Mack and Spencer have been having a time getting adjusted. More Mack than anyone else I think.
  
• I like Home Depot. Target? Not so much. WHO PUTS CLOTHESLINE IN THE AUTOMOTIVE SECTION? AND WHY TRAIL MIX BUT NO RAISINS?
• My stomach is rebelling. I've been eating terribly, and dropping weight to the point that I almost have to wear belts to cinch up the waistband enough to keep pants on. Starting to look like someone from The Little Rascals.
• What does it mean to have water in your basement? How many basements do? What's normal? Why does everyone want to dig up your basement and clean mold?
• Showers are funny because we run out of water so fast it's absurd. Same thing happens when doing dishes. Oh did I mention? We have no dishwasher either.
• The paint job we did looks great. Good color choice which I am primarily responsible for - the research (big purple binder) paid off.
• I miss Sex & The City SO much I cried watching it last night (yes, we have HBO already. No DSL mind you, but Yankees Network, hell yes)
• So tired I'm hallucinating. Oh wait it's the tv - somehow the acoustics are different and when you turn sound up on tv you can hear almost every single background noise so it seems like there are people talking in the house
• Movers need to have a plan of their own and communicate it.
• Eyes closing as I write this. Will catch up when more coherent.
  

It Didn't Stop All Day

Today VH1 ran a program called "And You Don't Stop: 30 Years of Hip Hop"
It was a five-parter and I believe it went on all day long.

I must say, despite some of the razzing I've seen online, I actually learned something about the history of hip-hop. I always wondered about it but kind of never knew where to look. I think if you're not terribly keen on the music but would like to know more about its history, this series is really a great start. Especially the first few episodes where they really get into how scratching and mc'ing and sampling got started. It's an amazing evolution and it deserves respect at the very least.

Spencer could have cared less. Maybe I should try to learn how to beatbox.

Threes and Throes

Tomorrow (well, today now since it's after midnight) we settle and close.
Packing hasn't been stellar on my part, but I've been wheedling away at it with some consistency despite Spencer's new found love of my left hand for use in walking. I will pat myself on the back for getting ALL the utilities switched or started, plus I bought us a new washer and dryer AND the custom closets I'd been lobbying for since we made the offer back in May.

So we're grooving along and then we almost had major meltdown today. Here's the rundown:

1. The title insurance company was apparently demanding an original of a power of attorney release we needed for settlement. Noone told us until this morning. Guy had to do a mad scramble to get that resolved and there was much ranting back and forth about our dilemma via AOL Instant Messenger. Without the document, we were being posed with the possibility of postponing settlement/closing and having to add financial burden.

2. We did the walk through on our new house. Mostly going well until I walked down the stairs into the basement and immediately smelled must/mildew. Recent rains had not properly been routed away from the house and it had seeped through the walls. The 1950's wood paneling was stinkin and the old asbestos laden floor tiles (not toxic I'm told) were soaked. The unfinished area also had water seepage. SO, bye bye big plans for kitchen renovation...

3. On the way home, Guy discovered that the estimate we were given for funds needed for closing was off by close to twenty percent. Not only bye bye kitchen, bye bye all money, period. I immediately began thinking about the fastest way to start earning money. When you're in what you perceive to be a hurry to earn money, the solutions you imagine are not necessarily logical or appropriate.

So, cut to me later on the phone with my mom, whining about the state we're in. I confess to her that I'm expecting something else to go wrong; the sting of the day's two major events still lingering.
"Things happen in threes," I tell her, knocking on every REAL piece of wood I can find (don't be fooled by melamine) and telling her I'm knocking on wood.

Why do I do that? How did I get superstitious? Is superstition a replacement for religious faith? The belief in something outside of your sphere of control that you have to accept unless you can somehow sidestep it or behave your way out of it? And the almost obsessive compulsive knocking on wood, while pacing around the house talking to my mother: You'd think I was a mental patient. If Spencer gets into this pacing thing, we're going to have to switch floors with him.

My mother was a rock for me.
"You already had three things happen though!"
"What is the third?" I squealed.
" The estimates -taxes thing you told me about. That's the third thing, so it should all be fine now."
"Whew, ok"
I knocked on wood again. It's pretty easy to do in my house actually. Guy is a big fan of real wood furniture.
I can't swing a dead tree without hitting real wood.

So we're past that trauma for now.

Guy went to bed early. It's our last Wednesday night in Overbrook Farms.
I can't believe we're moving. Guy has lived here for fourteen years, almost to the day we move, and he's less emotional about leaving than I am, and I am the one who pushed for the move to begin with.

I'll be driving around the area and I realize I will no longer be taking certain shortcuts home from Center City anymore. I won't be going to the same Genuardi's or Borders or 7-11s. I won't be taking the same drives into Ardmore- to Bella Italia - the best pizza I know of in Philadelphia except for somewhere in Southwest Philly (Kennerly help me out here!). No more competing Korean convenience stores down the street. No more Chinese and steaks within walking distance. No more easy walk to train station. Wah.

On the other hand...I also won't have the same pain in the arse drives to malls and Target. Infact, we'll have access to every major store I can think of, with the exception of Wal-Mart(I am so bummed. NOT). I'm sure there's one I don't know about yet. AND, let us not forget the trains rumbling past the house, the track crews honking horns and yelling at 2 in the morning. Also there are the buses, the drunk college students and their cars, and the traffic that's increased by probably twenty percent in the last year.

Overall, I'll grieve. It's inevitable. Especially when our washer and dryer aren't hooked up and I have to wash my clothes in a tub and hang them outside...

Here's to hopefully having DSL sooner than August 9!!!!!
I'm sure I'll be trying to write in here from a dial up. NICE.
Then again, I'll have a driveway.

Suburbia, I hope you're ready for the Vilims.

Sent Packing

It's Thursday the 14th. I have 7 days until we settle and close on the new house. 12 days until we officially move. I planned to be cleaning out bathroom cabinets and packing supplies...
I went to Staples and bought stickers to put on furniture, etc. I went to Borders and bought two design magazines and a design book. I saw my therapist. Spencer is in daycare right now. I'm sitting here typing.

I just reminded myself I wanted to apply AGAIN to Borders for a part-time gig. I love that place like the library. Books and books and books. Cabinets and boxes await me, whenever I feel the impulse. Guy would be giving me a look right now. The "well go do it" look.

Now I'm applying for work at Borders. The application is quite lengthy. Then it's off to pack. I mean it.

Mum's the Word

Still voiceless. Have been rooting through a drawer in a desk in our bedroom. Found pics and an envelope containing hair from Spencer's first official haircut. Grabbed the clear accordion folder with all Spencer's stuff and found feeding schedules and notes from daycare. It's amazing how much he's grown in a year. Ten inches and close to 20 lbs.

I missed a bunch of those early days due to Postpartum Depression. I don't know how forthcoming I've been about that, and from now on, I 'm determined not to avoid talking about it. ESPECIALLY after what Brooke Shields did. Who'd have ever thought I'd have something in common with Brooke Shields besides proximity to Princeton University.

I packed some boxes. We watched Gettysburg on TNT today. It's SIX hours long. That's at least twice as long as Scarface. Say hello to my extremely long movie! I wrote notes to Guy asking questions(tired of trying to whisper and having him go "What?" over and over) about the battle and surrounding history. He's on the ball with that stuff let me tell you. He'd be a great history teacher.

It's about time to crash out. But I'm watching BBC America (great network for Anglophiles) and the show "What Not To Wear" is on. There are these two gals, Susannah and Trinny. I saw them on Oprah once or twice.
They pick really dumpy ladies and make them beautiful-In a way that's appropriate.

In the shows I've had on, they've been dealing with moms of teenage girls. They helped this one woman who almost sounded like a man. She had a real cockney accent, and was so plain and so nondescript that she didn't seem salvageable. They really did a great job. She was so shocked when she saw how they'd primped her, she almost didn't speak. Her reaction was that she looked too good to actually be herself. Imagine that. You suddenly look as good as you could look, and you don't feel you're good enough to look that good.

It's really cool hearing all these British women speaking and using colloquialisms and slang I have no knowledge of. They all sound smarter just because of their accents. There's also a calm about Brits. It's funny everyone seemed to have overlooked it until the bombings. The media acted like Londoners were unusually calm in the face of incredible trauma.

DUH. Why do you think America happened? Stereotypically speaking, Brits have a tendency to be a bit repressed and passive-aggressive. That couldn't have helped their case in managing the colonies from so many thousands of miles away...I mean can you imagine men here working hard to build communities and industry from the ground up, and when problems arose and they tried to get assistance, they were greeted with things like a STAMP tax? They taxed tea, and our boys dressed up like friggin' Native Americans and dumped it into Boston Harbor. Talk about acting out!

So when you see the endless footage they'll show for the next week of the men and women, calmly but solemnly making their way out of the bombed Tube stations, remember, they've been sporting that kind of demeanor since before the Revolution. I wouldn't have expected behavior of any other sort. It's really just like us to suddenly notice how people from another country behave. They've been around longer than us, and we act like they just landed. Can you say "ethnocentric"?

Ok, I'm boring myself. Where was I intending to go with that? There is a teeny weeny bug crawling around on the screen and the little f***er is distracting me as I type. Go away before I squish you with my little pinky. EEEWW he crawled right up to where the lettters were moving on the screen. He's a smart little f***er.

If I was smart, I'd take some cough medicine like a good mommy and go to bed.
This bug has more common sense than me right now. Sure is busy. Hi bug. Shouldn't you be asleep? Are the lights keeping you up? I know you can't help but buzz around in their direction. If I turn off the screen, will you go to bed? He flew away. I can't explain why I called him a he.
"Quicker than a ray of light I'm flying" - "Ray of Light", Madonna*




*Also an Anglophile mum.

Quiet, Mommy

The most torturous event has occurred. I have no voice.

Guy couldn't be happier. The first thing he said this morning when I demonstrated my situation, was "Hey Spencer it's gonna be really quiet around here today!" Accompanied by a smile, of course. Spencer is looking at me like I'm a loon. And on top of this, I had THE worst sleep I've had since Spencer was born and it had absolutely nothing to do with him.

I took Alka Seltzer Flu Plus so I could sleep last night, and about two hours later I finally passed out in front of the tv with Guy next to me. At 330 I roused Guy and we transferred our delirious selves into bed. I closed my eyelids, but my eyes did not feel closed. My mind was racing about moving and packing, about a potential change in the whole schedule, about high school, college and my life so far. It was like having an annoying relative or acquaintance in the room that I couldn't get rid of. My brain would not shut up.

I tossed, I turned for probably 45 minutes with no end in sight. Finally I decided there must be something soothing about the couch, so I left Guy in bed for the raggedy sectional in the tv room. No sooner had I snuggled in under an ancient red nylon comforter, in walked Guy. I waved. He tried to help me get to sleep and apparently it worked, because back to bed we went. Where I promptly woke up again. We switched sides of the bed to simulate how we rested in the tv room. An entire production for a little shut eye. Sheesh.

I'm writing this in a bit of a drug haze. All that dextromethorphan and anithistamine and whatever else sure does linger. Wow, I just checked to see if my spelling of dextromethorphan was right: I'm good!
I need work on the word "delirious" though.

Spencer and Guy played dog with a ball today. I'll elaborate on this another time. I'm quite consumed with my lack of voice, they're replaying Live 8 without the annoying VJ interruptions on VH1 (and its distracting me), and I need to get some packing done or something even though I just want to go to sleep.

In less than 3 weeks, we'll be living in the suburbs. Time flies when you're procrastinating.

Ack! A Booger.

Some observations:
Spencer is saying "Ack" about and to everything. He points to the sky, he points up stairs, he repeats it over and over while being carried around the house and outside. He says it in the car, he says it near and far...wait a minute, who invited Dr. Seuss?

He's making some signs -like "more", "eat" and sometimes "milk", but lately he's invented one of his own, and it involves the shoving of his right forefinger up his right nostril and just sitting there looking at me. He doesn't move it around, just sits there with a finger up his nose. Someday, boy, I hope you'll tell me what that meant.

I tell you what, he has truly earned the nickname "Booger".

London Calling

Hey, everyone across the pond: I'm sorry you had to deal with this today. I can say to some extent I know how some of you must be feeling. Doesn't it suck that we now have more in common due to suffering than regular living?

Stupid t********s.
I won't use the word. I won't acknowledge them by name. They who shall remain nameless.

The day after London won the bid to host the 2012 Olympics, the starting day of the G8 Summit in Gleneagle, Scotland, frigging bombs went off in London. Our president immediately talked about spreading an "ideology of hope" to combat an "ideology of hate." The heads of Parliament expressed their sadness and dismay with many a "here here" echoing in unison, Spain stood tall and condemned the attacks completely, Americans went shopping for shoes and talked loudly on cell phones in drug stores....
What? Yep. Cell phones.
I was out and about this morning and I didn't hear ONE single person talking about what happened. Listening to NPR in the car, a commentator reported that some Americans, when polled about this incident, said they actually DIDN'T WANT TO KNOW about it. I don't think I get that. How does that help anything? How does it unite us in a common goal with the world if we don't even care what happens on the other side of our borders?
I was at Live 8 over the weekend and there was a similar issue. In Europe and Canada, the concerts and events around the concert got incredible coverage. Here, we could barely keep the performances going on screen in between VJ chatter and Axe cologne ads.
How can we be at war and be so isolationist? Oh and another thing, I'm confused about whether or not we're at war with Iraqi insurgents, or at war with terrorism in general. The president keeps changing the focus and I can't keep up.
In local news, during a surprise late night session this morning, the Pennsylvania Legislature passed a new state budget, complete with major pay hikes they approved for themselves. Nice. Gas is up to 62$ a barrel, kids in Philadelphia schools can't get proper text books, but legislators need more money. Let me guess...the cost of living has risen because of gas prices? Heh. Don't ask anyone in the street about it though. They might run away.
Wow this is pretty politically driven today.
I blame it on the fact that I'm sick with some on-coming cold, and I'm too tired to discuss my packing habits, or lack therof.

Have I mentioned I hate moving? But here 's the difference between me and t********s: I'm not going to bomb anything, write manifestos or oppress anyone. I also hate broccoli and cream sauces. Does that mean I should live the rest of my life planning to obliterate them from menus worldwide?
I'll go pick up Spencer before Hurricane Dennis comes to get us.

Everyone be nice.

Schooled!

I just found out that Canadian one dollar coin is called a Looney. I also just learned at this moment, that in canada, a "bunny hug", is a hooded sweatshirt, or what we Yanks like to call a "hoodie".

Guess where I learned all this? VH1 of course.

Ok, two more things:

1.The highest grossing movie of all time in Canada is Porky's2.In Quebec, they have "language police", who patrol the streets making sure that all public signage is primarily French.

Now, where, you ask, would I get such information at such a time of night?
Why, VH1 of course. "So Awesomely Canadian" has broken new ground on the music television format. I am in "awe".

Money Well Spent

A friend who recently had her second child( month & 1/2 ago) just told me she's been invited to attend a "Passion" Party. Apparently it's like a Tupperware party, but with, hmm, how shall I say it, uh, "toys" for women, instead of Tupperware.

When I asked her, "Are you in the mood for that now?", she said, "Well, something's gotta get me going, cause it ain't gonna happen on it's own. I figure maybe if I have a new toy, it'll make me want to do something!" I laughed, and the following thought occurred to me which I said out loud:

It's just like when you buy a new pair of shoes. It makes you want to go out to dinner.

Nice metaphor.

Sing Blue Silver

Ok, the Quaker Oats Company has LOST it.

Today when we went food shopping, I picked up a box of Cap'n Crunch Crunchberries (blue & red "berries" mixed with sugar corn crunchy) cereal. It's kid's cereal and it's full of sugar, and if you eat too much it hurts the inside of your mouth.

So we get home, unpack, we're doing our thing around the house, and I pull out the box, determined to snack on a few crunchberries, maybe even have a bowl. I notice there's a promotion going on featuring a popular cartoon character relating to the color in the berries. I start eating.

Within SECONDS, my fingers are turning blue and so is my tongue. Guy and I start discussing where the blue is coming from and whether or not the whole cereal is "laced" with the stuff, or if it's just the big blue pieces coloring everything else. We pour some in a bowl and hit it with milk. The milk instantly turns blue. And I mean BRIGHT BLUE. We run more tests on the "crunch" away from the "berries". Blue is present only not nearly as intense, and more like what I think you'd expect from a kid's cereal.

What kind of IDIOT thought this one up? Can you IMAGINE giving this to your 5-11 year old before school? You'd have to get a change of clothes ready and maybe some turpentine as well. I couldn't wash it off my hands.

The nice people who make this need a head check. I can feel cancer growing in me as I write this. Holy crap what alot of chemicals.

____________________

On a lighter note: I was transferring some old concert tapes to CD today. Two Duran Duran concerts: one from 81 or 82 in London, and one from their Seven & The Ragged Tiger World Tour when they appeared at Madison Square Garden in NYC in March of 1984. It was a big show for them, I read recently.

Anyhoo, that World Tour was the first time I ever saw them live (I saw them in Philadelphia at the Spectrum -now the Wachovia Spectrum). I was 14 and I was beside myself. So much so that when I taped the concert a week or two later, I cried when it started on the radio.

Cut to, oh, say, 20+ years later...
I'm sitting on the floor snug between a big reading chair and the stereo. I'm set up to tape the second show and I get it rolling. The first notes of an instrumental ("Tiger Tiger") come up with a swarming buzz of screaming girls who were mostly all my age at the time, along with tuning noises on a bass and lead guitar...I smile...

Oh my gosh. It's them. It's the men I have posters of all over my room. I think about marrying their lead singer at least 10 times a day. I can't believe I'm finally getting to see them...

I have suddenly become that awkward, starry-eyed 14 year-old girl. I get goosebumps and my heart races, and when I try to laugh, I start to cry. I am 35 years old, married with a 13 month old and I am sitting there nearly bawling over my ultimate teen crush. Whoa. Was it the crunchberries? Probably not.

I seriously recommend finding some keepsakes, music, pictures or whatever, that bring you back to a time when you felt that pure euphoria. It's suprising how fast it all comes back.

"...the droning engine throbs in time with your beating heart..."*

Thanks for the memories, fellas.



________________________________________________________
* from "The Chauffeur", by Duran Duran, from the album Rio

Don't Call Me Shirley

We went to the Outer Banks (North Carolina) for a week's vacation. We missed it last year because a certain little someone was just getting to know planet Earth.

The Outer Banks consists of basically two ends of an island: the original southern part consisting of Kitty Hawk, Kill Devil Hills and NagsHead and then the state park. Then there's where we stay, where everyone in Pennsylvania stays: the northern shores: Southern Shores, Duck, Corolla. We usually get a giant house on the beach in a section called Pine Island. These houses are magnificent. A million bedrooms, a million bathrooms, some with hot tubs, private pool, kitchen and kitchenette, outer decks on every floor, etc. It's truly great. The beaches are beautiful and for as crowded as the towns get, the beaches don't seem to show it.

We go with Guy's partner and family and two other couples. Everyone shares in cooking dinner, we do activities (jetski, golf, etc.) and we play games (this year it was: see who can match the most of the AFI'S List of 100 Greatest Movie Quotes of All Time ). We're a competitive lot; it's pretty funny.

I detail all this, because typically I complain like a crow about the traffic problems we face while there:
The road to where we stay is only a two-lane, and it's gotten the volume of I-76. Not to mention there is only one supermarket near where we stay and it serves who knows how many people. For three days after we got there, the place was so packed you couldn't even go in to buy milk without waiting 20 minutes in line.

Waah. Poor me. I have to deal with people while I'm on vacation at one of the nicest beaches on the East Coast. Waah.

So now I'm home and it feels too fast here. I want to go back. Waah.

BABYWATCH: Spencer loves swimming pools and the beach. He ate sand. I mean ATE it. ON PURPOSE. He bonded like crazy with his daddy to the point that he now yells "Daaaaaa!" to get him to come.Yes, I am a little jealous ;)

Kid Stars and Manwhores

VH1 has a series going right now: The 100 Greatest Child Stars.
I watched #40-21 and was fascinated.

They found Corey Haim.
I'm sorry, but he's a pudge. It looks like he either cleaned up from drugs and got fat, or is bloated from drinking. In his profile, he stated that he didn't have any regrets and was exactly where he wanted to be in his career. That's curious, since I don't recall having seen his name on ANY marquee anywhere since like, 1989.

The kid who played "Robbie", the kooky little cousin on The Brady Bunch looks like a hairy, scary beast. Joey Lawrence doesn't want you to call him Joey, and he is really hot. Infact, I think he and Ricky Martin may have been separated at birth.

Now I'm watching Kept: Former model and ex-Mrs Jagger, Jerry Hall, is trying to find a nice boy toy to hang off her arm. The show is about selecting one; by way of contests, dates and elimination. They model in a fashion show, pose naked for an artist, hang out in a castle and write poems. I think two are plants. They're just too vapid, self-absorbed and immature to be worth her time or anyone else's.

Amazing how MTV programming shuts me down. I have been sitting here for 20 minutes with nothing to say even though the behavior of some of these men deserves lengthy comment. Ads are over now and the show is on and I apparently can't write and watch at the same time.

The next time I write, it should be from North Carolina. Overdue vacation starts now.
Excellent.

Elixir of the Gods

gren·a·dine
n.
A brilliant scarlet non-alcoholic syrup made from the juice of pomegranates. Used to color and flavor drinks and desserts. Called grenadine because was originally available only from the island of Grenada in the Caribbean.

(I did not know it was originally made from pomegranates. Now I truly must have more.)
When I was a small child, one of my favorite drinks was the Shirley Temple. It's gingerale with grenadine. They normally chuck in a cherry and orange slice too, which I NEVER eat. I always thought it was cherry juice. Years later I would learn the truth, and it was good - one bottle of grenadine means many Shirley Temples are possible.

Tonight, I am drinking a homemade Tequila Sunrise. I used Dole Pineapple Orange (or Orange Pineapple) juice, Cuervo and grenadine. I put in more grenadine than the recipe called for. It's my drink, it's my grenadine and it's my house so I will have as much as I like. I have also had Grenadine liqueur in the house. That makes a REALLY good drink with gingerale. I call that one the Shirley Temple Black....get it? No? Ask me and I'll tell you.

Last night I had a "Sweet Tart" (pineapple juice, cranberry juice, vodka and lime), and earlier with dinner we had daquiris. It's too hot for beer. Don't ask me to explain.

I think I'm over Cosmos. The only places I've had them done really well are Shampoo and The 8th Floor. Otherwise they're kind of boring.

Back to grenadine... it's just delish. I wouldn't put it on ice cream though. My husband would.
I just like it in drinks. Imagine that; it originates from the Pomegranate. I can't imagine they bother anymore, what with companies being able to manufacture specific tastes from god knows what.

I refuse to comment on a certain news story from today. Grenadine is much more important.

Real World Land of The Dead (Brains)

Zombies are not coming to get me.

That statement may require a little exposition for clarification, but once again, time has lapsed since my last post and I have catching up to do.

Re: Gas Panics
1: The weekend my mom came down to visit for Spencer's birthday, we smelled gas in the house but then didn't, and thought nothing of it, considering two major forms of public transportation pass by on both sides of our house. We had a huge birthday party for Spencer, family crashing overnight, and so forth.

Tuesday of the following week, the new owner of our home came to visit with potential tenants and their moms. Spencer and I were home, doing our normal afterschool routine, and as they entered the house, they immediately became alarmed by the smell of gas...the OVERWHELMING smell of gas, which I did not smell at all in any way.

Thirty minutes later as I sat outside on the porch with my purse, keys and Spencer in my lap, PGW arrived with sensors a-beeping. The service guy walked through my dining room with a contraption that looked like something from Ghostbusters. It beeped loudly and steadily and increased in beep strength as he entered our kitchen. The stove was an immediate culprit. Then he headed to the basement where things went crazy. Gas=off. No heat, no hot water. He replaced our meter, which was leaking, but could not determine the rest of the problem and left me to cold showers and take out.

The plumber came the next day, sprayed our pipes with bubble liquid, and sent air through the pipes and looked for bubbles. Ten minutes in, he called me downstairs to show me a major union joint under the middle of my house looking like the set of the Lawrence Welk Show. Bubbles everywhere. It turned out the problem with the stove came from the problem under the house, so it wasn't really a problem. He fixed the union joint thingy and another small leak in under two hours. PGW was not so efficient, refusing to send anyone out until the following day. They're busy, you know. More cold water and take out. Actually, we have a large water heater and were able to get almost two days worth of showers out of it without using hot water for anything else.

Gas Panic Part Deux: On the way up to Maine, my mom and I stopped our cars at a rest stop near Sturbridge, Massachusetts. I pumped gas and waited for my mom to do the same.

On the other side of the island from me, a simpleton attempted to pump gas from a pump marked OUT OF ORDER. Promptly, the hose fell off and gas literally poured out on top of his car and all over the place. So, thinking like a crazy panicking mom, I ripped Spencer from his car seat and ran away. My mom followed suit until we, and other patrons, realized a not so smart patron had gotten back in his car and was starting it up. So we all yelled at him until he pulled over and turned off his car.

A very nice fellow driving a vintage car helped us move my car away from the immediate area and the frightened gal inside the quickmart adjacent to the station called the fire department. We made a hasty exit before we could be rounded up as witnesses, victims or annoyed and inconvenienced bystanders.

Now about that zombie thing: They keep showing ads for Land of The Dead. On my way out of the tv room to go brush my teeth, I imagined a zombie coming up the stairs out of the darkness at me with glowing eyes. I almost had to say "There are no zombies" as I headed down the hall.
This is the worst side effect of having a wild imagination: I can literally imagine something terrifying in a completely normal, safe environment.

Ok ewww. There is a man and a dog asleep in the room with me, and one of them farted.
Now THAT is a whole different kind of gas panic.

Some young lady is being cut apart and sewn back together again on an MTV plastic surgery show. It's about time for me to go bed. Especially since now I have seen every ad for Real World: Austin that's been created. I am an MTV zombie. GRRRRRRR brrrrrains...