Blech.

The first day I was sick, I didn't hate it...a day in bed, catching up on Netflix, having a Nyquil buzz, then yesterday was somewhat more annoying, and now today it is downright awful still being sick.

I pulled the laptop into bed so I could catch up with my students, and to do this post...last day of NaBloPoMo. As long as I manage to get this posted, I will have done it. 30 posts in 30 days. There were some definite high points, but then I also realized I started viewing my life's activities as blog potential...really not the view I want to hold, so I hope that when I go back to not posting everyday that perspective will shift back to one of a normal person.

See you in December.

Still sick.

I ventured upstairs to get a gallon of OJ and to see if maybe I am feeling better...

Yeah, not really.

I want to write about my Thanksgiving, I have a "wish list" type post I want to use to get myself worked into my normal holiday frenzy, I want to take pictures of the atrocities that my in-laws have bestowed upon us to answer a call in my sister's post, I want to call my sister and hear all the horrificly annoying things my Dad has done and said during this visit. But no, I am going to post this paragraph and go back to bed.

I'm sick.

Not food poisoning...just very achey, sore throat, coughing, headache. YUCK. So no Christmas tree, no "Black Friday" crazy good deals, nothing but bed and Theraflu.

NaBloPoMo...I am still here.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Well, today's the day. The day I hopefully do not give my family food poisoning. The turkey is stuffed and roasting. (I had a little bit of stuffing for breakfast...tied with mashed potatoes, stuffing may be my favorite part of the meal.)

I also had a, "duh" moment this morning. There is a reason you are supposed to cook your desserts yesterday...once my turkey is in the oven, no room for anything else. So, um, when I am I supposed to bake the cheesecake? I think I decided that I will bake that while we are eating...

So, just for fun, I clicked on the Thanksgiving countdown, kind of hoping there would be a checklist for the day...my biggest issue when I cook is getting everything done at the same time. The tip was, Don't forget to be thankful. Oh yeah.

I am thankful (not always in this order):

-for my family, my band of 7 (Mr. P, kiddos, Steamboat, Steamboat's parents).

-that while the economy fucked up my ideas of what I wanted Christmas to be like this year (traveling to my sister's), that is really the extent to which it will affect us.

-for stuffing and mashed potatos.

I hope everyone has, or had a wonderful day. I leave you with this Thanksgiving, oh so, many years ago when I made everyone either make a Native American, or Pilgrim outfit...

What vegetables, exactly?

So today's preparation tip is to bake the desserts for tomorrow, and cut up all the vegetables. mmm. I ask again, what vegetables exactly?

So I think I will skip that part, and get to work on my desserts...pumpkin gingerbread trifle and pumpkin cheesecake. I will keep you posted...

Okay, so far I have washed the trifle dish that my sister gave me several Christmases ago and I bought a spring pan, which I had to google to see exactly what it was. These desserts should be AWESOME.

First update: I have baked the gingerbread and COOKED the pudding for the trifle.

When cooking the pudding I made a comment to Mr. P that it seemed strange to cook the pudding. He looked at me in utter surprise, "You don't normally cook the pudding?" Which is weird..one, we are not big pudding eaters, and two, NO, why would you cook pudding for just normal consumption? Also, note the plastic wrap on the surface of the pudding...that is going to make it creamier.

Okay, well I am worn out from all the cooking, so we are going to go eat Mexican food, maybe go see Four Christmases, and buy a Thanksgiving tablecloth and fruits, nuts, and candles for the table....you know, so it looks pretty for all the food.

Update 2: We end up getting ditched for Four Christmases by the children, so we took our time and browsed numerous stores to the point I am now exhausted. But, at least when we got home, I got my first FAIL out of the way.

I didn't fully bake one pan of gingerbread. And, when I was making my whipped cream, I ran out of vanilla, so I didn't fully finish putting the trifle together. Here is where we are now:

Not exactly:

We'll see how it tastes tomorrow. Honestly, now I am not sure why I even thought I would like it. I like gingersnaps, but not gingerbread, and I like pumpkin fluff (from weight watchers), but not pumpkin pie. At least I used the trifle bowl.

Now to watch Top Chef and go to bed...I have a FULL day ahead of me tomorrow.

Duped.

It seems that perhaps the FoodNetwork Thanksgiving Countdown may be an advertising gimic and NOT a helpful guide to make sure that I don't fuck up Thanksgiving. I got up this morning, all excited, thinking surely today will be the day that I bake the gingerbread for the trifle, or take a trial run making the homemade cranberry sauce, or even make placecards for the table...anything, something to make me feel that on Thanksgiving I have a shot in hell at everything being ready by 2pm.


Today's tip? Learn to carve like Bobby Flay. CHECK.

I didn't really learn to carve like Bobby Flay, Mr. P carves, so I don't need to. It does feel sort of hollow though. sigh.

Since I have no work to do here, I think I will go get a pedicure (I have to go shave my legs first...do you do that?), then shop for a new tablecloth and fruits/nuts/candles for my Thanksgiving table, and get a card for Steamboat that works...since the last one I sent was broken (no music, just plain).

Before I go, for those of you who don't believe we get the gorgeous colors down here:

However, I should disclose that the colors last maybe 3 days, then all the leaves fall off at once. We have green for 9 months, colors for 3 days, then bare for 3 months - 3 days. But those 3 days? GORGEOUS.

I am so good at Thanksgiving

Today's job (from the FoodNetwork countdown to Thanksgiving) was to pick up the fresh turkey if I ordered one...I didn't. I am done for today. Sweet.

While I might be awesome at getting ready for Thanksgiving, I am pretty bad at friendship. There is a lot of pressure when you have friends to do what you say you are going to do, when really all you want to do is watch a Law & Order marathon in your pajama pants. I have one friend right now that is perfect for me. We have a standing plan to meet on Friday afternoons after work with the men folk and some other friends. Well, last Friday she didn't show, so I texted her, "Where are you?". Her reply, "I got off at 3pm, and I couldn't keep my pajama pants off." To me, a perfectly acceptable explanation. Some weeks I see her two or three times, sometimes I don't see her for a few weeks. It works for me.

I end up ruining, or extinguishing friendships because apparently I am so awesome that people want to hang out all the time, and I am just not built that way. (I am saying that tongue in cheek, but kind of not really, since it seems to happen with my every new attempt at friendship.) A few years ago I got to be friends with the wife of one of my co-workers. We played tennis twice a week, then we started going to lunch afterwards, EVERY TIME. Well, I like to have lunch with friends sometimes, but mostly, I like to lunch alone, because that is when I decompress and read my books. So, how did I handle it? I quit playing tennis because I didn't have the heart to tell her that I didn't want to eat lunch with her every day, and that was the easiest way to get out of it. Pretty crappy, huh?

But, on days like today, when I have nothing really pressing to do...I finished my Thanksgiving chores, dinner is in the crock pot, the house is under control, and the kids and Mr. P are taking care of their own stuff, it would be nice to have someone I could call to meet for coffee this afternoon.

(Well I don't drink coffee, but it sounds more grownup than meeting for a Diet Dr. Pepper).

But then again, since I don't HAVE to do anything, maybe I will just stay in my pajama pants and watch Law & Order on TNT.

Damn, I do have a problem, I can't even make pretend plans without wanting to cancel.

Weekend Update

I love this time of year...when weekends and weekdays all blend together in a flurry of activities, cooking, parties, shopping, and general fun. I am afforded this luxury mainly due to my job, so for 5 weeks in the summer, and the time from now until mid January, I. LOVE. MY. JOB. I still have work to do, but nothing very pressing, and usually under the condition of if/when I feel like it. More often than not, I do feel like it in the afternoons, especially when my DVR is bare (like it is now). The only "big" thing I have is a 4 page proposal that must be submitted by 11/30. I am hoping I get it done tomorrow/Tuesday.

So what have we done this weekend? Mr. P and I met friends for beers and pizza on Friday night. Yesterday we watched a little college football, but neither of my teams played so the kid in college and I did major damage to my DVR, then watched Once Upon a Christmas, then Twice Upon a Christmas on ABC Family Channel countdown to the 25 Days of Christmas countdown. We then watched the 1995 Freaky Friday with Shelley Long and Gaby Hoffman...I have no idea how that version slipped by me...people switching bodies is one of my favorite movie genres (third only to natural disaster and holiday movies).

Then today, Mr. P and I tackled my monumental grocery list. All I think I still need is bread (for turkey sandwiches), and pecans, for the pumkin cheesecake recipe found here. I am happy with our final menu, and am carefully following the FoodNetwork countdown to Thanksgiving....today is put the frozen turkey in the refrigerator. CHECK. I hope it stays this easy.

I totally didn't even know that Lionel Richie was hungry

My sister moved to New Jersey seven years ago and right after she moved there, she went to a bar with her husband and Lionel Richie was at the same bar. I also have a great memory of "falling in love" to a Lionel Richie song. OH. And I have a People magazine with Nicole Richie and her baby Harlow. That is the extent of my Lionel Richie knowledge.

To be a bit more thorough I queried Mr. P as to his Lionel Richie knowledge and he said, I think his daughter is adopted and he sang "Lady". (He even sang a bit of it so that I would get his point.)

HOWEVER, if you google, "Lionel Richie Hunger Problem" you get my blog. Who knew? And if you have any other Lionel Richie trivia, comment away, and maybe we can start the LionelRichipedia.



PS Apparently there is a porn version of this song if you are interested.

Busted.

So, Mr. P is not pleased. I told him about my pretend boyfriend blog post and the comments I got, and he got quite disturbed, and decided he had to read it himself. Oh, no. No. Not because I have pretend boyfriends, but because I didn't take his advice on my pretend boyfriend list oh so many years ago...

According to Mr. P's records, in the year 2000, he told me that Christopher Meloni was not to be my love connection due to his unfortunate relationship with a white suprematist on Oz. Apparently I. just. don't. listen.

But there is more, and it stems back to stupid Billy Bob Thornton.


I said I would tell you eventually, but I may as well tell you now. It is bound to come out some time. Billy Bob Thornton and I are enemies. The reason is simple. After Armageddon came out, Billy Bob Thornton said in an interview that he didn't really like the movie.


I know, right?


Oh, you don't really get it?


Weird. But, okay. I love the movie Armageddon and the fact that BBT thinks he was too damn special to be in it...well get over yourself Angelina lover. You were in it and I bet you got paid. Oh, while we are on topic, I don't like her either...homewrecker. And don't even get me started on Tom Cruise.


But anyway, Mr. P was reading the post from yesterday, and after he watched the Rock, Paper, Scissors, Lizard, Spock clip (twice), he said to me, "Let it the fuck go."

I said, "Let what go?"

"That damn space movie. Really? You have got to let it the fuck go."


Alright, Billy Bob, I am gonna try. For now, we are no longer enemies. But you better watch your step.

I guess it is kinda pointless to argue with a cat

...yet I do it on nearly a daily basis.

I am trying to get laundry done this morning, and every time I go to the laundry room, which is right off this breakfast nook thing, she does the same thing...that is why I sound so aggravated. However, for those of you who feel bad for my poor, neglected, STARVING cat, I gave her some more food since she kept up the performance for the camera.

Total and UTTER thievery

So my sister did an awesome post last night about her pretend celebrity/character boyfriends. I am totally piggybacking, stealing, copying, plagiarizing, you name it, I am totally thieving her very cool post. I did ask in her comments if I could do my own post, but then I am totally writing this write right now before I even know if she said yes. (Isn't that an interesting misuse of a homophone?)

After reading her list I was relieved that we aren't going to start a sister feud over pretend boyfriends...none of her dudes made my list, and really the only ones that I thought about were Matthew Fox and Luke from Gilmore Girls. (Oh, side note to Tracy: Where is Jack from Missing Persons?) I love that she likes the dad from the football show...you could have asked me to list 300 shows that she would like, and I would have put the Texas football show dead last.

Okay, so my pretend boyfriends: (Oh, and no stealing.)

Peyton Manning. Dude can totally play some football. Mr. P got me an official Peyton Manning jersey for Christmas last year. I couldn't officially love him until he graduated from college (he went to a rival school), but as soon as he did I declared my love for all the world to hear. I even think he was kind of funny on SNL.

Elliot Stabler. (SVU). Mr. P always gets disturbed when I mention how hot I think Christopher Meloni is...apparently he did some weird stuff on Oz. I never saw that show so my image of him remains untainted.

Patrick Dempsey. When I was an undergrad the first time, the only video I owned was "Can't Buy Me Love". McDreamy for sure.

Josh Lyman/Danny Tripp . Both are characters played by Bradley Whitford. (West Wing and Studio 60). He is not your typical "hot", but the characters are always smart, funny, and flawed pretty seriously.

Tom Colicchio. Head judge from Top Chef. I don't know if its the eyes, the baldness, or the chefy swagger.

ETA: I had a totally inappropriate American Idol crush on David Cook. I even bought his CD from iTunes. I watch Idol every year. The kid in high school, Mr. P, and I every night. We sit. We criticize. Then this year, I fell hard. I voted. Every time. I am such a loser. This probably should have been my BlogSecret secret.

Okay, now I want to list my pretend friends...same concept, just maybe no sexual tension...TV/Movie characters that I want to know in real life and be their friends. I know this is bizarre and I like tv too much, and feel free to laugh...this is something that I KNOW is embarrassing, and I just don't care.

Ross Gellar. I also have a PhD and like to pretend it means alot more than it does. We could sit around and talk about abstracts and conferences and regression and call each other Dr.

House. I love the sarcasm and the brilliance. Except he probably would call me fat since he is brutally honest that way, so I probably need to lose weight first.

Christine. and Barb. and Matthew. and Richard. and even New Christine. I think I just want to move next door to that show. (New Adventures of Old Christine).

And my all time favorite new BFF? Sheldon from Big Bang Theory.




Someday maybe I will tell you about the celebrities I am enemies with (Billy Bob Thornton don't act like you don't know what you did).

How you doing?

I am a little late on the uptake today...but, how is everyone today? The one pretty great thing about being so late to both blog and read blogs is that hopefully everyone has new posts so that I am not just clicking on their site every two minutes when I am bored...Did they post now? Oh, no. Now? mm. Okay, how about now?

So BlogSecret was kind of awesome. I found my secret's host and was able to gage the reaction to my secret by reading all the comments. Overall, I found it to be a great experience. I already have my next BlogSecret post idea if the opportunity presents itself.

Second, but not totally unrelated, the blogosphere is a totally rad place to hang out. My sister mentioned last year that she really thought a knitted candy corn hat would be a very cool thing to make for her toddler. Things got hectic and she wasn't able to take knitting lessons, so I decided that I would ask Angela of FluidPudding fame if she would knit the hat on commission. (How fancy am I that I commissioned work?) Angela was pretty booked, but referred me to Karen, from a St. Louis area knitting guild, and she totally knitted the hat, and mailed it to me and I then mailed it to said toddler. How cute is this kid wearing a candy corn hat?

How funny is his "smile for the camera"? I had never realized that little kids do that. It is new for Steamboat, but he seems to be consistent with this smile lately...Last month when we were on the hayride at the pumpkin farm/corn maze, an adorable little girl made the same grimacy smile for every photo. Her dad said, "She smiles just like Chandler Bing"...

But just in case you don't know what stranger dad meant...

Go Ahead and Marinade on This One

Before we get to regularly scheduled programming, a few words from your host: Today is BlogSecret. A group of over 90 79 bloggers submitted secrets to "blind" hosts. Here is the secret that I am hosting today. Like all good hosts, I ask that you treat my guest with respect. Our guest blogger knows that her post is here, so leave her comments. If you want to read more secrets, a list of host blogs can be found here. And now, on to the show.

I didn't start out as the other woman - it was never my intention.

I met the boy shortly after returning to my hometown after college. We became fast friends, and for the first time ever a boy was more interested in me that I was in him. Catching me completely off guard. I wasn't used to the attention, and I was getting plenty of it.

I was "the new girl" in a very tight group of guy friends and more than one of them had shown interest in me. I can't help it, when I'm on, I'm on - you could call me a charmer. But no matter how many boys showed their advances the only one that had me from hello was THE boy.

Things kept moving quickly, we were never officially boyfriend/girlfriend but we spent almost every day and night together (picking up what I'm throwing down?). Here I was completely infatuated and happy with this boy, and what do I do? Tell him I don't want a relationship.

Kick me now.

The boy was hurt and I quickly distract myself with the next man I can bat my eyelashes at. But I couldn't get him out of my head, because while we had stopped hooking up we were still spending plenty of time with each other, this time with just more sexual tension.

We played it off as being "best friends" but it was so much more than that. Random nights we would still hook-up causing the emotions to never really die. It was a vicious circle - until he met a new girl.

I played it off that this new girl didn't matter and I liked her - a lot. She was very much like me, dark hair and eyes, loud and outgoing. Guess he had a type. For a little under a year the boy and I didn't hook up because he had become exclusive with the girl. And I actually became pretty good friends with her, but she wasn't happy in the town we were living in, she wanted more - so she up and moved 3,000 miles away. The boy didn't go with her.

While they did the long distance thing, I kind of took on the pseudo-girlfriend role like I had been in the past. We were "friends". Lots of dinners and movies, going out with all of our friends. When mass amounts of alcohol were involved things tended to get out of control. One night he kissed me outside of the bar. I immediately freaked out playing the holier than thou card. "You have a girlfriend!", I shouted.

Meanwhile, I was completely and utterly in love with him and pulling away from him was the hardest thing in the world to do. I didn't want this to become a pattern but next weekend we found ourselves in the same situation, but this time I didn't stop him.

I woke up the next morning crying, I had never felt so sick to my stomach. Coming from a family where my father's cheating broke up my parents marriage I never ever thought I would be in this situation. But here I was making bad decisions, thinking he was going to break up with her, she was so many miles away and he was here with me. I had it all rationalized out in my head.

On my 25th birthday of that year the pattern remained the same, the boy and I drank our faces off and then hooked-up.

Six weeks later I realized I was pregnant.

The weird thing was that I never even thought about keeping it. I wasn't ready to have a baby, I was too young, I wasn't married, this wasn't supposed to happen this way. I felt numb but I knew what I had to do. I had an abortion and carried on with my life.

Thanksgiving of that year I found myself face to face with the boy's girlfriend. I couldn't make eye contact with her, she knew something was up. I confessed almost everything to her, being slightly vague. That night I wish I had a filter but I didn't - I'm terrible at lying to someone's face. To say the least, she was upset.

Things happened very quickly from that point. The girl threatened to break up with him if he didn't move to the city she was residing in. I was a mess, completely heart broken and angry at myself for what I did. I couldn't handle being around him anymore - it was over.

We both picked up and moved to new separate cities the same week of each other. The first few months it was really hard. It was for the best, it's almost like we needed to be found out so that we could get out of the unethical rut we were both in and grow from it. The weird thing is we still talk, we have a lot of friends in common so it is pretty inevitable. But we have individually come to peace with the past.

At this point I just hope that the bad karma I got from that situation has worn away. It took a lot of time for me to realize that the blame was not completely on me - it wasn't all my fault. He had a lot to do with it too, probably taking advantage of all the love in my eyes.

Oh yeah, and the boy married the girl this past summer. Just not this girl. Me, I'm still looking, but this time with a lot more wisdom.

The verdict is in...

So, I was looking at my weekend posts, and they weren't very "weekendy". Heavy, dude. So, since this is Monday, I figured I would get down to some important business.

Pummelos are good. The rind is really, really thick, and there is a lot of the white gunk from the peel that you have to strip off even after you peel it. (Man, I really should be a food writer.) The actual fruit meat (yes, that is right, the meat of the fruit is the part you eat), was a really pretty pink, so I took a picture.

This picture makes these pummello sections look kind of like a heart? (Maybe too much Grey's Anatomy this weekend.)

Unlike an orange or tangerine, you don't eat any of the "membrane" so when you are done, you are stuck with a huge pile of pummello trash, and you get kind of messy, so I wouldn't recommend as a fruit for the lunch box, especially if you use lunch to catch up on blog reading (which is what I read was the time for highest blog traffic)...but a fruit to eat while watching television...absolutely.

Oh yeah, what does it taste like? Grapefruit, only not as intense.

While we are on the topic of food, what is going to be on your Thanksgiving table? I am working on my menu. So far I have the basics, turkey, stuffing, mashed potatos, gravy, rolls, corn, green beans, and my twists for this year: pumpkin/gingerbread trifle, pumpkin cheesecake, and homemade cranberry dipping sauce and cranberry jelly. The kid in college asked for a casserole of some sort, preferably including sour cream and/or cream cheese...any ideas?

And one more thing...tomorrow is BlogSecret. The post on this blog will not be mine, mine is going to be on...oh wait. It's a secret!

I get so scared.

Last night I partied it up with a pomegranate and three episodes of Grey's Anatomy. I love that show, but it scares me. Not the blood and guts part, even though that gets gross, but the fact that it is inevitable that everyone goes there at some point. Everyone sits in a hospital and begs for some doctor to save someone they love. I have been there once.


We had just had the kid in college, she was 6 weeks old and we got hit head-on by a drunk driver. I still don't remember exactly what happened, but I remember someone screaming a horrible scream, and then realized it was me. Mr. P couldn't move, and there was blood coming out of his ears, the baby seemed fine, but wasn't crying...shouldn't she have been crying? At the hospital, we were taken into different trauma rooms and after they took x-rays of my face and feet (yeah, I don't really remember why, just I remember those x-rays) they released me, but wouldn't or couldn't tell me about my family. Where was my husband? Where was my baby? After me freaking out at the desk, they sent a social worker, and they brought me the baby. Perfect. Carseats are a miracle. I went into every trauma room and finally found Mr. P. His nose was broken, his sternum separated, but other than that. Fine. The blood in his ears, not from his ears, from his nose. We left the hospital, together, sore, but whole. It won't always be that way, and that scares me.

Life isn't fair

I know, I know...no big surprise, right?

But I don't even mean that my life isn't fair, even though I do think my sister and I got a crappy hand in the parent department.

But what about:

The very active "sports" Dad to 3 young kids getting diagnosed with Stage 4 colon cancer? He is now so worn out from the treatments that he can't always get to the games that he used to coach.

A young, sweet, hard working couple coming to a possible realization that they may not have biological children, even though that is their one true desire?

The grandfather that was so devasted to lose a grandchild four summers ago being told he was going to be a grandfather again, only to then learn that this new baby that gave him so much hope has the same genetic condition that took his first grandchild?

A young mother of two discovering that both of her children carry a gene for a condition that will render both blind before they are 20?

Life really can throw people such horrible circumstances, and today that is making me sad. Not for me. For these families who have to live these circumstances, the circumstances that both make me want to ask God to help them out, and at the same time make me question a Higher Power altogether.

I can't be too sad for me, I get to love these guys...

Pummello, anyone?

So the other night we went out with some friends and had some drinks. As we were heading home, I realized that I NEEDED sugar and shredded cheese, immediately. I had wanted to make the kid some brownies and we had no sugar, and I wanted to have leftover Mexican food for lunch, but needed shredded cheese. I explain the dilemma to Mr. P and he agrees to drop by the grocery store so that I can buy shredded cheese and sugar. However, I did not stick to the list. When tipsy shopping, you should always. stick. to. the. list. If you don't, you end up buying some weird stuff.

I did buy sugar and cheese, but also chocolate milk, a habanero pepper, an asian pear, a pomegranate and a pummelo. Luckily, since I have no idea what a pummelo actually is, their are directions on how to eat it:

So now, after having beverages, I know that I should not: call anyone, text anyone, email, blog, comment on a blog, or shop for produce.

SororityGirl16point

So, now that my sister has found the blog I was trying to think of something funny I could write about that would make her laugh.

When I was younger I like d to write letters in such a way that there are dots at the "points" of each letter. I call it SororityGirl16point. If you were such a girl you know just what I mean, if not, here is a quick illustration:


Anyway, my sister thinks this is EXTREMELY dorky of me. Therefore, I went on a quest to find a font that mimics SororityGirl 16 point so that I could type out a whole post in it...and wait to see her reaction. Unfortunately, that is not going to come to pass...Did you know that you can buy fonts? And actually have to buy some fonts? I did find a font that was close to what I was imagining, but I wasn't sure I wanted to be $53 funny. Free funny is much more my style.

So, I had to take the post in a new direction since I already typed up the first paragraph, did the illustration, took the picture, uploaded, etc. But alas...on my quest, I discovered fonts for all moods and occasions.

On September 19, Talk Like a Pirate Day, you could blog in either

ArrMatey:


Or perhaps TreasureMap:


If you write about dogs, perhaps QuadrupetsDogs (it is kind of hard to read though):


Maybe you live on a farm where there was a bad accident, so ExplodingSheep is more your style:


Or maybe you want to get a guest host spot on CakeWrecks, so you use YearSupplyOfFairyCakes:


Maybe you really like Ellen DeGeneres and want to ShakeThatBooty:


Maybe you are mad at your boyfriend or you are a boy and want to write an X rated blog, JerkOff:


Or perhaps, SuckMyBalls:

But if you want to write Sorority Girl style, it is lamely called Telegram Com:
I would LOVE to abuse my authority as a professor and assign a report and have the requirements be:

Please complete the assignment using SuckMyBalls 12 point, double spaced.

Mama done gots PAID!!!!!!!!!!

The kid pulled out a whopping THIRTY TWO!!!! He scored perfect in Science 36, almost perfect in Reading 35, ehh in Math at 28 (he hasn't taken calculus yet) and then English is whatever it would have to be for those to average at 32. (Please know that I do know that 28 in Math is not ehh, really. My kids are really bright and I have exceedingly high, almost absurd expectations.)

I was so excited and proud that I threw on clothes, drove to the highschool, pulled him out of class and said, "I have to tell you something. The ACT scores are in."

He said, "Oh man. What did I do"

I scream, "32 BABY!" When I told him that he scored perfect in Science... he just grinned at me, "Isn't that the highest you can get?"

However, I did misquote the scholarship levels in my earlier post...he is ONLY going to get full tuition and fees, for a mere $25,808. CHA CHING.

Now Momz can rest a bit easier about the coin, and start helping the kid get ready to live on his own, in 8 months.

Now that...that is a whole other story!

PS The kid in college accomplished this same feat two years ago, pre-blogging. She rocks too, just so you know.

Is today the day?

So today is the day that we might potentially learn if the kid in high school got the magic 30 on his ACT that will ensure he gets a full ride to college. A minimum of 28 will get him $1,500 a year, but the threshold of 30 gets him full tuition and fees for all 4 years. If he rocked it out and got a 32 he will get full tuition, plus $1,500 to buy a new computer to take to school.

I have been trying to log into the ACT website, but I am getting the message, "Failure. Too many connections." I guess there are alot of desperate parents out there today.

I think I may be so obsessed I won't get anything productive done while I incessantly refresh until I manage to get in. Keep your fingers crossed that Mama gets a big payday today!!!

I am sorry, we don't have any tacos

So yesterday my sister posted an adorable story about my nephew and his two tiny cute orange birds.

(As an aside, I was at work from 8am to 8pm and got home exhausted and was able to relay two things to Mr. P before I crashed in front of Amazing Race dvr'ed from Sunday. The first was that we would be getting our $200 back, the second was our nephew's two tiny cute orange birds. Mr. P first wanted photos, but when I explained that the baby was putting them on the couch for his mom to take a picture, that did not phase him. "So? I want to see those birds." And second, our school colors are orange and blue, and when he heard the birds were orange, I could see the wheels turning..."He has ORANGE bird friends. Our school has ORANGE as a color, and has a bird friend. STEAMBOAT LOVES AUBURN. ")

Anyway, back to my story, yesterday, I posted about ordering hummus at an expensive dinner, and my sister asked me if I ordered that because my visitor was from India and all Indian people love the hummus. (He actually was IN India, but from Kansas.) We are not actually that culturally dense, there is a backstory there that is attributable to my son.

I read alot of "mommy blogs" and I have to say, I don't really have too many mommy stories that don't include references to beer pong, tattoos or the ACT, and to be brutally honest..those stories just aren't that damn cute, or funny.

But the Indian people liking hummus got me thinking back to Easter, 1999, and the type of stories I would have had to relay had I blogged when I had little kids.

We lived in a dumpy apartment, and my sister, her new boyfriend (Steamboat's Dad), my mom, me, Mr. P and both kids were spending the day together. We were sitting outside on the tiny "porch" and working on some Easter crafts that we got from the Dollar Store that were turning out horribly, and getting ready to eat. Apparently, the little boy (now the one in high school) had invited his friend, Marcos, over for dinner, unbeknownst to Mr. P or I.

As Marcos is being introduced to the family, and we are asking him would he like hotdogs or steak (you know, traditional Easter fare) our little boy announces, "I am sorry Marcos, we don't have any tacos."

For the record, Marcos chose steak.

I was so ready to rant and rave...

and...I got nothing.

I teach in a business school and one of the things in our "mission" is to expose students to as many business people as we can. This summer, Mr. P and I frequented a watering hole (that sounds way better than the place where Mr. P and I get drunk, right?) and got to know two of the bartender/servers and come to find out their Dad is a big wig. (As an aside, is it appropriate to capitalize Dad?) So, we did some talking, I called their Dad, and after several months of planning, he arrived here...FROM INDIA...on Saturday so that he could talk to several groups of our students. Well, last night he wanted Mr. P and I, him and his kids to go to dinner...the total was $200 (my dinner was only $9, but I did order hummus as an appetizer). I picked it up the check. Now my checking account won't cover rent.

So, I am sick all last night and early this morning that my boss is not going to reimburse me (normally we only get reimbursed for faculty and the actual guest) and that I am going to have to cause a scene because the guest paid his own airfare and lodging, and all he asked for was this. one. meal. and get up off the checkbook, Jackass, and pay me back, or I will never get another person in here to talk to these kids.

So our administrative assistant isn't here, but I see that my boss is, so I bite the bullet, knock on his door, go in, and tell him...Look...here's the deal.

His response:

Okay.

Hmmm. Awesome, but now what do I do for my fucking blog post?

Have you ever written a great post, then deleted it?

I have. If you, like me, have something you want to put out into the blogosphere, but for whatever reason do not want it attributed to your blog, or your person, we have been offered a great opportunity:

Nilsa, from SoMi had an extremely clever idea. So far over 50 bloggers are going to send her their "blog secrets." Then each contributor will host a secret on November 18. Cool, no?

Today's post serves two purposes...one, go check out the rules if you are interested because Nilsa is organizing and there are some administrative things you need to know. Second, when this blog is so totally awesome on November 18th...don't get used to it. I will be back the 19th.

ETA: There is a third purpose of the post...NINE for NINE!
And I used "their" for "there" in the final paragraph. Duh.

For the love of muffins

Post Backstory: Circa the week before Halloweenish

About three weeks ago Mr. P and I were browsing around Sam's. We decided to go gawk at the giant tubs of baked goods. We both love the baked goods, but are smart enough to know we can't buy them at Sam's.

So it is like we are touring the Smithsonian of Baked Goods:

"Look at those tiny brownie bites"

"Yeah, those are cool...but check out this giant box of cheese danish"

"I like this spidery looking cake"

You get the idea. Then, Mr. P gets quite serious and says, "I have made a decision."

Things go swirling through my mind...He is going to vote for McCain. He is giving up gluten. He is leaving me for Christie Brinkley. He is going to buy the new N'Sync CD.

Tentatively, I ask, "And what decision is that?"

Mr. P., "I have decided that I am going to start eating muffins."

Present Day

Yesterday Mr. P and I met for lunch in the downtown area of our little town. I had some good gossip to share about friends from college and our kid in college regarding the recent unexpected departure of one of her roommates. Then I was telling him about how visitors to the blog have really spiked over the last few days with NaBloPoMo, Twitter, and my sister. I then proceded to tell him that surely I was going to get very, very popular and someone from Hollywood was going to find it and want to make a movie. He is a good sport, and nods approvingly.

I decide to take it one step further.

"Who do you think will play you walking around Sam's talking about your love of muffins?"

With no hesitation, as if he has been waiting for me to ask this question for three years he says:

Denzel Washington.

Say my name, say my name.

On days I work in my office I leave my house at 7:15am, but I usually don't have any real need to be in my office until 8:30ish (I share a vehicle with a teenager and he drops me off on his way to school). My normal routine includes the kid dropping me off at a fast-food place close to my office and I drink 7 gallons of Diet Coke and read for 45 minutes or so to get my head on straight.

At the very least I do this 3 times a week, but 5 days this week. I go there so much that the people that work there call me by name. Unfortunately though, not my name.

It started about ONE. YEAR. AGO. Let's pretend for sake of argument that my name is Tina. About a year ago, as I walked in the door to said establishment, the manager piped up, "Good morning, TAMMY." And like a moron, I said "Good morning." Not, "Good morning. But hey, my name is Tina". Nope. Just "Good morning".

Two days ago, the manager even introduced me to a new employee as Tammy, and the new kid, said, "Oh what is your name, ma'am?"

I now bow my head in shame, I can't even admit what I said.

It would have been less awkward if I had said my Pirate name, Mad Grace Kidd, my fairy name, Twinkledance Flittertoes, my rapper name, Mobb Bone Flava-T, or even my transformer name, Slugface Defensor.

Now what the hell do I do? Do I gracefully tell the manager that I am such a douche that I let her call me by the wrong name for a year? Do I just change my name to Tammy to avoid the conversation all together? It might be less awkward to send notices to my family and friends. Or maybe I should just let it go, and take old Shakey's advice:

"What's in a name? That which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet."

I can't even make this shit up

One of my posts is about how Mr. P was appalled that I would buy colby jack cheese and NOT cheddar jack cheese. I will wait for a second so you can check it out...

Anyway, Tuesday night Mr. P brought home about 12 maps to color for the election, and I was thinking I had so much fun coloring that maybe I would color in all the states that represent blog visitors.

So I check out Google Analytics to see what states I should color and there was a hit from a google search, which even under normal circumstances I find terribly fascinating, but this one....

Thanks for asking. Yes, my friend, there is a difference between colby-jack and cheddar-jack. And to some, that difference can be measured in terms of a face punch.

I've got the BLUES!

No thanks to me in my RED state, but good work other states!

Getting my vote on!

I am so excited to vote that on a normal non-alarm day, I set the alarm for 6am, and rolled out of bed at 8:17am all for the purpose of going to get my vote on.

See you on the other side, VOTAHS!!!
(of "have voted" versus "have not voted yet")!

ETA: I voted! So for all you other voters, was yours electronic? Chads? Or like mine...totally old school...broken arrows pointing to each candidate and you fill in the arrow for the candidate of your choosing?

I can't wait to watch the results tonight...I kind of even wish I had a map I could color in and tally the electoral votes myself! (Even later edit: Mr. P DID bring me a map to color. I hope it turns out beautifully!!!)



Do you see how Alabama is blue? I wish.

Where to draw the guilt line

I tend to feel guilty about every choice I make. While it provides me with extreme empathy, it is more crippling than helpful. Sometimes I probably should feel guilty because my choices are selfish, but since I feel guilty all the time, I am not sure that my conscious is helping me too much.

Two examples of this are hitting me at the exact same time, so my guilt is almost crushing. I am not sleeping well, and I am not thinking very well as evidenced by my disastrous class I taught this morning. What makes it worse it that both "decisions" are money related...basically I have decided I can't pay for things and as a result people in my family are disappointed. Rest assured these things that I have decided not to pay for are not life sustaining...I am not withholding healthcare or food, or even cell phone coverage...

I wonder if my guilt stems from not being able to determine for sure if I am truly unable pay for these things, or I just am not willing to make the necessary sacrifices to pay for these things.

I also then tend to second guess every other thing I spend money on because maybe someone will think I am being frivilous when I could be saving...What makes this even worse, is that it is very likely that I am so self-absorbed that I am convinced my decisions are so shattering, when in reality no one really even cares that much.

P.S. Maybe I will win a cool Post-It notebook that will make me feel better.

P.P.S. I even feel guilty for wanting to win said notebook, because a college kid commented that she was poor and so I should let her have it.

ETA: I refreshed Kat's site constantly after 9pm CST, and fuck if I did NOT win that stupid Post-It Notebook.

I really want this chick's stuff!

I think that sounds kind of like I am hitting on her...I just really want her Post-it notebook. Look at her blog, but seriously don't sign up to win until the 3rd Give-A-Way.

Just Kat Stuff: Giveaway a Day #2

As a side note I posted this from my iPhone in bed. Too lazy to go get the laptop, too excited about the post-its to wait until tomorrow!

Wednesday's child is full of woe

Do you remember that Mother Goose poem? I don't even know if anyone reads Mother Goose to their children anymore.

Anyway, the poem goes:

Monday's child is fair of face,
Tuesday's child is full of grace,
Wednesday's child is full of woe,
Thursday's child has far to go.
Friday's child is loving and giving,
Saturday's child works hard for a living,
But the child born on the Sabbath Day,
Is fair and wise and good and gay.

I was born on a Wednesday. As a child I am not sure I would have given this even another moment of thought..you know, like above normal horoscope (Leo), or Chinese horoscrope (Year of the Cock) or Magic 8 Ball predictions of my love life...(Mr. P has one on his phone that I like to ask dirty questions while he is driving...he gets all flumuxed.) But this is something my mother harped on. Anytime I whined, or cried or was sad...I was a Wednesday. I started believing I was doomed in life...I mean if I was full of woe, must be for a good reason, no?

Later in life she also harped that I was too pale and advocated that I get lots and lots of sun, that my hair was "mousy" and I should change the color. I was a bit chunky...but not really now that I look back, I was athletic and 150lbs at 5'4". I wore a size 8 in the 80's before there were even 0's and 2's. I still have body issues.

While is Woeful Wednesday bringing all this up today? I was reading some blogs (who shall remain linkless since this argument was over and done with on Monday and I don't want even two people to rehash the whole thing), and there were comments that as mothers we should be careful what we blog about lest our children find and read the blogs one day and be traumatized that their mother's really didn't love them all that too much.

I got thinking about that. I have ALWAYS teased my kids. I had a song I used to sing, "It is my favorite time of the day....X and Y bedtime, X and Y bedtime", replace X and Y with the kiddos names...you get the gist. If that is all they remember about their childhood, then yup I am doomed to the crappy mom hall of fame. But here is the thing. It isn't what you say, it is the intent with which you say it. I was always smiling and laughing when I sang that song...if there was a bad jive to the evening, the song never came out.

I have always talked about how much I really don't like children...and if you ask my kids...they say, "Yup, she doesn't like kids...except us." And now my nephew has joined that elite group of kids that I love. A lot. I was not a SAHM, I joined the PTA but never went to a meeting, I didn't cook from scratch for the potlucks, we brought buckets of chicken (which were always the first to go, by the way), I went to lots of their stuff (track meets, plays, softball games), but I missed some too (always with advance notice), I helped with spelling, but not projects.

Could I have been a better mother? Oh, hell yeah, and I try every day some days to get better. And when the day comes that the kids read this blog and I have written about how horribly behaved they were during preschool (kid in college, kid in highschool was a chatter in elementary school), or I let them cry in their crib for 10 minutes (both), or I thought their hair in the 8th grade was not the best style for their face (both), all it will do is confirm what they already knew. Wow, Mom is a bitch.

But will it make them think, even for the tiniest of seconds that I didn't want to be their Mom? That I don't love them so much? Nope.

It is all about your tone and whether your kids BELIEVE you when you tease them. My kids don't. I did. That's the difference.

Let the Holidays begin

Once Elf and Love Actually were released on DVD I had to self-impose a rule for Holiday film watching...nothing Christmas related could be viewed outside of the November 1 - January 8 time frame. Why January 8th? It approximates the date of the NCAA football championship game, which is the official end of the holiday season at Chez Potchery.

It is here. November 1. Today is the day. I am so excited that I can't decide where to start...the standards? Or maybe Christmas with the Kranks? Polar Express? Jingle All the Way? Christmas Vacation? It is such a momentous day in our house that even the kid from college came home...but it is with heavy heart I relay the following...

CollegeKid: Mom? I have to make a confession.
Me: silent UH OH, and gut clench
CollegeKid: I watched Love Actually three days ago.

sigh. Where did I go wrong with that one?