Beware, the flu of swine

I hope I'm not being naive, but I am not concerned one whit about the swine flu or H1N1 virus or whatever we're calling it today.

Yes, I have a small child and perhaps if someone at his school contracted the virus, I'd be concerned. But right now, it's not something that is keeping me up at night.

However, there are certain people I work with who are consumed with fear about this particular illness. One went so far as to send an email to HR, begging them to make people stay home who exhibit ANY signs of illness. (Which I am sure she intends to use as leverage to stay home herself). Another infamous germaphobe at my office has some anxiety ab0ut the disease, as well, and when the day comes that she shows up wearing a surgical mask over her face, I will not blink.

I am glad that the powers that be seem to be taking the necessary precautions to prepare for the disease, sh0uld it intensify. Until that time comes, I will proceed as normal with my life - with maybe a slightly heightened sensitivity to hand-washing.

Quick poll

If you had a co-worker whose personal cell phone went off, I'm not exaggerating, 30-40 times a day (and that's just when I'm counting), would you:

A) Politely ask them to set their phone to "vibrate"
B) Ask HR to politely ask them to set their phone to "vibrate"
C) Wait until they go to the restroom and destroy the phone with a jackhammer

NOTE: The phone went off twice while typing this poll. And no, it's not Bad Lady's phone.

Jack Bauer to the rescue (a work in progress)

This past weeks’ pirate situation off the coast of Somalia had me thinking: if they just had Jack Bauer with them, the whole thing would have been wrapped up in a matter of a couple of hours, tops – with some side plots thrown in, too.

How would Jack Bauer be able to invervene and save the day during a pirate crisis off the coast of Africa? Any of these scenarios seem entirely plausible:

1) A mysterious man (Jack Bauer) has been on board the cargo ship, keeping to himself and staying in his cabin. He is being transported to Africa for an unknown mission, and the crew members know better than to ask. Once the pirates seize the boat, Jack springs into action from inside the boat.

2) Jack is helicoptered to the scene (because he just happens to be in Somalia), rappelling onto the lifeboat (miraculously avoiding heavy gunfire), and taking out all the pirates.

3) Jack arrives on-scene via submarine.

This got me thinking: what other situations could use a little Jack Bauer?

SCENE: an office. Woman (played by me – hey, it’s my skit) is standing by copy machine. Paper goes in and does not come out.

WOMAN: Can someone help me fix this paper jam? I have a presentation in ten minutes and I need to make these copies!

JACK BAUER emerges from a cubicle.

JACK: I’ve downloaded a schematic of the copy machine onto my PDA. According to this, the paper jam should be located in the alpha quadrant, right below drawer B.

The PDA starts beeping as if an alarm is going off.

JACK: It looks like someone has been tampering with this machine.

OTHER CO-WORKER walks past the copy machine. JACK slams him against the wall while gripping his shirt collar.

JACK: (barking) WHO USED THIS COPY MACHINE LAST! THERE’S A PAPER JAM!

OTHER CO-WORKER: (crying) I don’t know! I don’t know, Jack! It wasn’t me!

JACK: (takes a pen out of his pocket and holds it menacingly at the man’s throat) Come on! I saw you over here five minutes ago! You know something!
OTHER CO-WORKER: I swear I don’t, Jack … don’t make me call HR again!

JACK: Listen, we have TEN MINUTES to get this paper jam out of the copier. So you’re going to do what I say … NOW!

JACK releases his grip on OTHER CO-WORKER, who recoils from JACK. While this confrontation has been going on, WOMAN has moved between the two men and calmly opens up a side drawer on the copy machine, sees the rogue piece of paper, and delicately removes it. JACK’s PDA blips to inform him that the paper jam is now removed. OTHER CO-WORKER exits to the right, quickly.

WOMAN: Thanks for your help, Jack.

JACK: Any time.

OTHER CO-WORKER is seen at desk, composing an email.

OTHER CO-WORKER (to himself): This isn't over, Bauer! This is the last time you're going to bully me around this office!

Familiar "24" clock ticks, signifying commercial break.

A grey matter
Because I often like to post my facebook/Twitter status as a song lyric, I was looking up the lyrics to Seal's "Kiss From A Rose" before posting today. I wanted to make sure I had the exact wording, because GOD FORBID I get it wrong.

No, not THAT seal.

So you know when you realize you've been wrong all these years about a favored lyric? How it totally changes the song for you? You know, "Excuse me while I kiss this guy" ... oops!

Did you know that Seal compares you to a kiss from a rose ON THE GREY?

I always thought it was "on the grave." It made sense to me. Like a rose that has been left on a grave. It's a beautiful rememberance of someone who isn't there anymore. I don't know. It worked.

What the hell is a rose on the grey? Further, what is the grey?
Like, grey matter of your brain?

The Pocket Sniffer

Dear Pre-School: let this be a lesson to you -- never, NEVER, under any circumstances, schedule school picture day on the same day my child is slated to go swimming.

Picture Day was a couple of weeks ago. Mistake #1 was mine. I had a nice sweater and khakis picked out for him to wear. But I gave him the option of wearing his "outfit" -- seen below -- a blue and black track suit and hoodie. Which do you think he chose? I decided not to push it. After all, the "outfit" is a good representation of who he is right now, at this moment, at this age, and several years from now, I will be glad I let him make that choice.

However.

He also left the house wearing his red "Lightning McQueen" ballcap, as he is wont to do on many days, particularly if it's raining (because god forbid he get rained on -- the horror!) No big deal. He usually takes it off when he gets to school, and puts it in his cubby.

The rest of the story goes:

That morning, as happens on every morning, the pre-school teacher got the kids ready to go swimming. They all got their suits on and were ready to head to the pool. The director of the school came and said that the photographer was ready for the pre-school group, so anyone taking pictures had to get re-dressed and come with her.

Now, you have to understand that Doodle LIVES for swimming. He goes Monday and Wednesday, and on those mornings, the first words out of his mouth when he wakes up are usually, "Mommy guess what? I go swimming today!" So, this was about the point where Doodle went batshit crazy. Amidst tears, he got dressed again and insisted on the Lightning McQueen hat. No amount of bargaining could convince him to take it off -- the school director said she tried.

But even after what was deemed a king-sized meltdown by all parties present, Doodle managed to take a pretty cute picture. See for yourself. I think this is going to be one of my favorites when I look back on them after he has grown up. This is my little man, with a sparkle in his eye, still able to muster a smile after being denied one of his favorite activities.

Note: That afternoon, when asked about picture day, Doodle also said he didn't like the bunny, because it kept "sniffing his pocket." The bunny in question is the black one. No word on what was in his pocket.

I got the diabeetus

Last week was my 28 week glucose test. The results came back and my sugar was at 201. It should be around 100. Yep, I got the diabeetus again. Last time I was pregnant, they diagnosed me with gestational diabetes around week 11 or 12, with my initial blood test. This time around, I thought I was in the clear. Everything was coming back normal. But then I drank that damn orange pop and here I am, on serious carb withdrawal.

This is the second day of my diabetic diet, and let me just say, IT SUCKS!!!!!! Sucks sucks sucks sucks sucks. I've always been a "want what I can't have" kind of girl, and let's just say that I never met a bag of potato chips that I didn't like. And I've been indulging myself with candy and ice cream during this pregnancy because I've basically felt like dog crap the entire six months so far. Somehow, gnawing on a celery stalk just doesn't have the same theraputic effect.

But I will sacrifice my sugar and carbs for the good of this baby. And I figure this gives me plenty of ammo right off the bat for when he's older and I get to infuse some mom-style guilt onto him. Right after I finish off a pint of Ben & Jerry's.

Justify My Love

(Note: Writer Diablo Cody really stole my thunder on this one. Her essay on the same topic appeaared in this week's Entertainment Weekly. But, at least I'm in good company.)

I guess I must be lame.

I have never worked a pole, danced drunkenly atop a bar, made out with another girl while dancing drunkenly atop a bar. All my clothing more than reasonably covers areas which should be covered, all of which areas are silicone-free. I do not own an eyelash curler, nor would I know what to do with one if I had one. As far as I know, I've never thrown a drink at anyone. I've never entered a wet t-shirt contest. And I'm not blonde. Naturally or otherwise.

I would most certainly be categorized into the "lame" bus. These factors alone would make me a sure-fire thing to NOT appear on the show "Rock of Love Bus," but let's say for some reason I had a desire to date (if that's what we're calling it) former Poison front-man Brett Michaels, along with several other girls who absolutely have experience with at least one, if not all, of the above list of my "nevers." All of us. Simultaneously. Swapping fluids. With him, and when he's not available, with each other.


Damn ... I almost wore this exact outfit to work today.

And I admit it ... all of this? Is FASCINATING to me. I can't get enough of it. "Rock of Love Bus" on Vh-1 is the only show I tivo and watch the same day. Then I lament the fact that I have to wait another week for the new installment.

I didn't watch the prior seasons, but I may go back and do so now that I have gotten on the Bus. It's a feel-good show. Feel-good in that it makes me feel good about myself, my life, the way I behave in public. I have never made the acquaintance of any girls like these girls. I wouldn't even know where to find girls like this. And for that, I am glad. Big hair, big boobs, big makeup, big personalities, big problems. And this ain't The Bachelor. These girls are vying to date an aging rock star, who himself is manufactured out of silicone and synthetic hair. This entails life on the road, complete with groupies throwing themselves at Michaels at every turn. And this is AFTER one of the girls beats out all the others who have made out with, slept with, grinded on, done pole dances for Brett.

Sounds like the ideal cornerstone for any successful relationship.

The "competitions" within the show all exploit the girls' assets, their ignorance, and their willingness to down several shots of whatever alcohol is available and try and impress Michaels. Often, Michaels sits alone in an observation room, viewing the girls in action on a hidden camera. Sometimes his criteria for who does well in a competition is whether or not the girl in question looked hot while performing the task. And sometimes that's all they need to be saved.

The winners of the competition get to go on a one-on-one (or three-on-one, whatever) date with Brett. Brett may make out with all three of the girls on this date. And everyone seems ok with this. It's part of what they signed up for. Until they go back to the bus in a drunken rage and cry about how horrible it is to see Michaels with the other girls and how they want to go home. And then pour an entire jar of salsa into another contestants' bag because you THINK she talked smack about you. (Did I mention how deliciously catty these girls are??) Then, the next day, they're back up on the bar or the pole, hoping Michaels chooses them to continue to "rock his world." Mama would be so proud.

And despite that, there are actually a few girls who I am rooting for. Girls who aren't larger than life (well, except for the parts made of silicone). But do I really want them to "win" the show? Do I want Brett to pick the nicest, sweetest girl? I honestly don't know. Is that a prize or a punishment? Is it something you want to tell the grandkids one day?

Oh hai

Coming soon ... actual posts!

Couple things happened ... first ... it is WAY more easy to think of witty one-liners to put in a facebook status update than it is to come up with a whole post. I plan on changing that. Second ... I got knocked up again. Doodle is getting a brother this summer. But you knew that, right? Because you've also got the facebook addiction.

Anyway, more to come very, very soon. I promise.




Yes, I am making that face on purpose. That is Daniel's "big crazy" face, which is usually made by a cartoon character to indicate their displeasure at a situation.

My technique needs improvement
Can someone please tell me how a parent, particularly a parent who spent much of her college career memorizing and reciting key quotes from Beavis and Butt-Head episodes, is expected to keep a straight face when bathing her child, and her child passes gas in the tub, looks down at himself in horror, and says, "Mommy, my butt cheeks just made a noise?"

Tell Me At Which Point I Should Worry

Doodle's been talking a whole lot of nonsense lately:

1. A few nights ago, he made this declaration: "Mommy, you're a lemon."
Lemon? Like, I'm a bad car whose warranty ran out sometime during the Clinton era? "And what are you?" I asked him. "I'm a bump."
Mmmmmmmkay.

2. This morning, Doodle informed me that Gabby, a girl in his class, doesn't like him. When asked why not, he said, because he's Batman, and he chases her and shoots at her and makes her scream. Why, because she's Catwoman? Does Batman make a regular habit of chasing innocent civilians?

Who knows why he says what he says ...

Just wondering
Does anyone else have blackouts where they go on amazon.com and order stuff, and then you can't remember if you actually ordered it or if you stopped yourself before it's too late? Or is that just what happens to me? I know that yesterday I went on amazon twice, and I don't recall the results of my visit. And I'm too lazy to log into my obscure hotmail account to find out. I guess I'll be pleasantly surprised when my stuff comes in the mail.

Go Blue
I know I'll get some guff for this photo, being an Ohioan and all, and for submitting my child, who doesn't know any better, to wearing the much maligned maize and blue, but ... HOW CUTE IS THIS???

Seasons change
I am on hold with FedEx right now and they are playing Christmas music. Jeepers!
Today also marks the first day I have had to break out the nylons, or hose if you prefer, since spring.
I am not pleased with either of these developments.

Buy the book
Last evening, I took Doodle to the library to return our week's batch of movies, including the heinous, disturbing film "The Brave Little Toaster." The parking lot was packed. Unusual for a Thursday night.

When we got up to the children's room, I noticed some activity in the adjacent meeting room ... a book sale!

I should explain that one of my many quirks is that I love to own my books. I love libraries, don't get me wrong, but there's something about knowing that my favorite reads are stacked away on my shelf for safekeeping that just does it for me. I do love indulging at Borders, but even better is amazon. I can't be trusted online! Used books! For cheap! It's a dream come true.

So when I saw the book sale beckoning, resistance was futile. Too bad my child couldn't be contained. I could have stayed there for an hour, browsing the titles. I did, however, manage to pick up some VHS videos (yes, we still have a VCR, along with a DVD player) for a dollar apiece, including the much-loved "Toy Story" and some other Disney titles. When I paid ($5 for my bounty) I learned that Saturday is a megasale where you can fill a bag for $3.

I'll admit, I can't stop thinking about it. It's just such an exciting prospect for me to come home with a SACK of books for that little amount of money. I was thinking that I'd just load up with a bunch of random stuff, like a grab bag, and then read everything regardless of what it is.

I'm going back. Without the child. Try and stop me!

I wish
Doodle wanted to say up for a few extra minutes and watch TV with me. I've pretty much eliminated all the shows off the DVR that are watchable with Doodle. There's "Heroes" (too violent, weird), "Entourage" (too many f-bombs, nudity), "True Blood" (too vampirey). Right now the only show that I have DVR'ed that we can watch with Doodle in the room is "Project Runway." I'm several episodes behind on this show, so the one I punched up last night opened with Chris March parading onto the runway in full, towering drag ... that, too, got turned off.

So I happened to have recorded an episode of "Austin City Limits" featuring John Mayer. I decided that was ok to watch, despite the fact that my husband was also in the room and he was probably suppressing the urge to throw a boot through the television. I believe he is of the mind that Real Men Don't Like John Mayer, and his point probably has some validity.

Not helping this was the fact that Doodle kept saying, "That's John Mayer, mommy? Is that your boy?"
"Yeah, he's my boy," I said, shooting a sideways glance at my irked spouse.
"Can we see him?"
"We're seeing him right now, on the TV."
"I want him to come to my house."
"Me too."

So money and he doesn't even know
Last night, I got called on the carpet for being cheap.

Doodle has picked up on the concept that in order for us to buy him stuff he wants, like toy cars, we need to have money. In his mind, getting more money is as simple as going to the money store and getting some. And then of course, instead of spending this money on things like car payments and mortgages and groceries, we would naturally spend it all on toy cars, and maybe the occasional Thomas train.

Lately, Doodle has been giving us a hard time about listening. He's a stubborn little Dickens, and wields his power like any good tyrant would. Particular sticking points include using the potty at home (he stays dry all day at school, but doesn't seem to mind sitting around in a soaking wet Pull-Up at home), and cleaning up his toys when he's done.

I got the brilliant idea that I would bribe my child with money to get him to clean up. I haven't stooped to bribing him to pee on the toilet... yet ... it just seems too messed up to pay someone for their bodily excretions. ANYHOO, when I told Doodle this plan last night, playtime was over, then and there. Money is the great motivator. Toys were put away, lined up, a stray snack bowl was put in the dishwasher, all while my husband and I sat on the couch in amazement, not lifting a finger.

When Doodle finished, we went and got his piggy bank. I opened my wallet and grabbed some random coins. It happened to be three pennies and a dime. "Here's four monies," I said to him. I mean, the child doesn't know denominations. My husband, however, calculated that this clean-up work had earned Doodle all of 13 cents and protested. "Give the child a quarter for god's sake!"

"He's THREE!" I screeched back.

So cheap old mom had to go back into her wallet and deposit a nice, shiny quarter into Doodle's car fund.

Ike, Ike baby
I live nowhere near a hurricane-producing coast. The worst Lake Erie does is throw several wollops of lake effect snow on my commute to and from work a few times during the winter months.

But regardless, Ike snuck up north and bitchslapped northeast Ohio yesterday.

We were fortunate not to lose power at home, but my inlaws and many friends were not so lucky. While I was at my inlaws' house for dinner last night, a large tree fell and took out their entire deck and tore down power lines. The tree missed their house by a couple of feet. And luckier still -- no one was outside when it happened. During nicer weather, we spent much of the evenings on the deck. Had the tree fallen when we were outside, there would have been nowhere to run.

I've never been one for storms. Some people like to watch lightning crack across the sky; my instinct is to cover my entire body in darkness so the flashes won't reach me. When I was little, I used to have an emergency bag of my favorite toys near me all the time in case there was a tornado so I could take it with me to the basement. I think only once did I ever have to take cover with this bag in tow.

This was, by far, the most eerie storm I've ever experienced. Never in my life have I been so afraid of WIND. I've never felt so vulnerable than when the snap of that tree sent my family into turmoil. Every gust of wind after that made me want to grab my child and burrow underground somewhere until it was all over.

And that was just here, in Ohio.

My heart goes out to the people who experienced the full brunt of this storm.

Wicked game
Here's the new game played ad nauseum in Sketch Factor central.

Doodle: (points to one of us) You're Buzz Lightyear. I'm Zurg. (Buzz's evil nemesis)

Whoever gets picked to be Buzz Lighyear: *shoots imaginary lasers at Zurg any number of times between 1-20)*

Doodle/Zurg: *shows no signs of taking damage from any of the laser fire and takes ONE shot at Buzz*

Buzz: *man down*

Doodle/Zurg: *cackles evilly*

A variation of this game is "You're Captain; I'm crocodile."
In this game, Captain Hook, usually played by my husband, is able to occasionally "hook" the crocodile, whose sole mission in life is to eat Captain Hook. The croc promptly disables the hook. The Captain's trusty underling, Smee, now played by yours truly, has to fashion a new hook for the Captain.

No strings attached
Because it is that time of year, the "what the hell am I doing with my life" season, I have been contemplating making some changes and doing things I've wanted to do but have been too busy/lazy/financially unable to do. One thing that I know I want to do, before I transition from thirtysomething to cougar, is to fulfill my rock 'n' roll dream.

I've been playing guitar for half of my life, but not well. Beginning at age 16, when I got my first acoustic guitar ("Ruthie"), I've always just winged it. And because I never learned the ropes, my guitar chops are still fairly beginnerish.

Since I play by ear, I learned a few basic chords and from there was able to teach myself the chords to my favorite songs. And because my favorite songs traverse a wide range of cheesy to hipster, I have quite a repertoire of cover songs.

I've always wanted to parlay that into some sort of band. I envision myself in an 80s cover band, but there are definitely some 90's and even current day songs that I'd like to include. So my latest dream band would be an ultimate cover band that plays three sets and progresses through the decades. This would, of course, be complete with costume changes.

So today I made an important first step in making my dream a reality. I am going to start guitar lessons. Start from scratch, and learn the basics. Build on what I already know. And see where it takes me.

Separated at birth

Is it just me, or does




=





?

Big day
This morning, Doodle woke up with a dry diaper. "You want to try and tinkle on the potty?" I asked him.
"Um, no," he said. "Maybe I'll go on Thursday."

Apparently Thursday is the day when it all happens.

Bridging the cultural gap

This is what my blog looks like translated into Spanish. Who knew that "sketch" in Spanish was "sketch!" And that "factor" was "factor!" But in Spanish, you just reverse the two.

Santa Claus is Comin' to Town, or, Pandora's Box

As I may have mentioned before, Doodle loves his trains. Particularly of the Thomas the Tank Engine variety. We've been using the toy trains as motivation rewards in Doodle's potty training. I have this whole complicated chart system going, in which he earns stickers each time he attempts or succeeds to use the potty. It's been working somewhat well, because he enjoys putting a sticker on the chart, However, he thinks he gets a train for every try, and it just don't work that way.

He also errantly seems to think that anything he asks for, he will get. When he looks through the Thomas the Tank Engine brochure that accompanies any toy purchased, he points out all the toys he wants.

Last night at dinner he was showing us the train set he wanted, and my husband, with all the best intentions in the world, said five words that changed everything: "Maybe Santa will bring it."

When I last checked, it was August. So by my estimation, Christmas is still a loooooong way off. Especially to a toddler who doesn't understand the concept of time and who thinks five minutes is an eternity.

Doodle's eyes brightened. "Yeah! Santa will bring it!" He said. "Santa's coming over tonight!"
"No," we told him, "Santa won't come until winter time, when there's snow on the ground."
"Look!" he responded, pointing out the window. "It's starting to snow!"

At this point I dissolved into giggles and had to excuse myself from the dinner table.

Throughout the rest of dinner, and after dinner while I was cleaning up, Doodle talked incessantly about Santa Claus' impending visit. My husband and I exchanged glances and wondered what kind of Pandora's Box had been opened with the mention of Santa.

"Doodle, I have something to tell you," I tried. "Santa's not coming tonight."
"Nooooo!" he howled. "He is!"

When I began to fill the bath tub with water, Doodle melted down. It became apparent to him that we were proceeding with the normal, pre-bedtime activities, which did not include a visit from Jolly Old Saint Nick. It was the full water works, complete with lashing out in anger at both my husband and I for not allowing Santa to come over. Somehow we distracted him, and we got him bathed, pajamaed, and in bed.

This morning, as I was getting ready for work, Doodle was in an adjacent room, playing with his Thomas trains. He was talking to himself, concocting a train story of some sort. I clearly heard him say, "Well, Santa's coming over on Thursday ..."

Oh boy.

If there's one thing we've learned as parents, it's that Doodle forgets NOTHING. By hook or by crook, Santa will bring him the train set he wants. Because Daddy said he would. Maybe.

Goings on
Boat Day was slightly disappointing in that everyone, and I mean EVERYONE, was on their best behavior. IBL was subdued, Bad Lady was surprisingly gung ho and wanted to stay out longer in the boat rather than go home early. Color me shocked! The other cuckoo did not wear a life vest, thankfully.

In Doodle news, over the weekend, he began to show interest in using the potty. This has been a constant struggle for months. We had given up asking him about it because he would become hostile when asked if he wanted to use it. Everything has to be his idea. So we let it become his idea. This weekend, while we were at a wedding (a wedding in which my husband became horribly drunk and consequently slept in our bathroom), Doodle went tinkle TWICE on the potty. The next day he pooped on the potty at home. Hooray!

I'm probably due to spruce this site up with some pics, so those will be coming soon, I sorta promise.

Barack Roll

A little bonus posting action for you all since it's been a while. This nearly made me cry, made me say goodbye, made me tell a lie. It's really only funny if you know what a Rick Roll is, so google that and then help yourself to this one...

Just Sit Right Back And You'll Hear a Tale ...

A tale that will involve me and my co-irkers on a boat. For an entire day. On Friday. Let's take a look at some of the players:

IBL, who is rumored to have a fear of water;
Bad Lady, who is surprisingly upbeat about this trip (it's a day away from the office, so, it can't be THAT bad, right?)
and someone I don't have a nickname for but who is missing a few screws and who has bought her own life jacket to take on the trip and had to be talked out of buying a wet suit.
Dwight Schrute could board the vessel and I wouldn't flinch.

Already a typical man

Doodle and I have this complicated bathtime game involving twenty or so small die-cast metal cars. He drives one of the cars up onto the side of the tub, to where I am sitting. I must say hello to the car as it approaches, and goodbye to it as it turns and lines up behind the previous car. I must address the car by name.

Most of the cars he owns are from the Disney/Pixar movie, so they have come with names already assigned to them. Other, unnamed cars, have easily identifiable nomenclature such as "taxi cab", "van", "white van", "Citgo #21", etc.

But he has recently, ahem, "acquired" several new cars (thanks to us leaving him with grandma while we went to the Indians game Tuesday night...). They made their bathtime debut last night. So when a new one drove up for me to greet it, I stumbled. "Hi ... what's your name?" I asked. My son made up a name. "Red Car" was one.

"Hi, Red Car, what are you doing?" I asked, putting a twist on the game.

"I'm going vroom vroom splash!" my son said, or something like that. It's kind of hard to recreate onomatopoeia.

Every subsequent car had to be greeted with "Hi, what's your name?" even if I knew it was Lightning McQueen, Citgo #21, white van, etc. And then I had to ask every car what it was doing. They all answered with some variation of the "vroom vroom splash" response.

EXCEPT for Sally.

Sally is Lightning McQueen's girlfriend in the movie "Cars" and she also has the dubious distinction of being the only female car in our collection. So when I asked Sally what she was doing, I got a bit of a different response: "Going shopping."

REALLY.

Then Sally chuffed off, apparently in search of a Bloomingdales.

Elevetiquette
My office building is a modest four floors, and is equipped with not one, but two elevators.

I imagine in larger office buildings, the elevator traffic is much more dense, but the same set of rules which I am about to lay down certainly would apply.

First of all, there is a set walking distance from the elevator where one is expected to hold the door/have the door held. In my office building, I will hold the door for you if I a) you are several paces behind me, but I know you; b) see you coming through the door and you are within shouting distance for me to ask whether you're going up. A good general rule is if you make direct eye contact with a person coming through the door, you should probably hold the elevator for them.

Button pushing. My general rule is, if I get in first, I will press your floor button. If you get in first, please press my button. If I know what floor you're going to, I'll press it for you. (With only four floors, two of them occupied by my company, I do this pretty often.)

Once inside the elevator, there are boundaries. I will take up space in a back corner. With one other passenger, they should take the opposite diagonal corner. If a third enters, passenger #2 should step into the back corner opposite me, leaving passenger #3 in a front corner. If there are more than three people in the elevator, please observe the rules of personal space.

Conversation. With such a short ride, I don't expect it, nor in the morning, do I want it. If you talk to me, I'll answer, but I'm not going to ask you how the weather is.

Last but not least, if you are in the elevator and you are cleaning it in the middle of the day (we have the cleanest elevator in the WORLD), please do not try and hold a conversation with my boobs.

No, bigger than Jesus
I'm driving Doodle to day care this morning and from the back seat, the request comes: "I want Beatles."

Doodle frequently requests the Beatles, but more specifically the "Let it Be" album. In Doodle's mind, there are two kinds of music. The Beatles, and everything else. And everything else is completely unacceptable.

Sometimes, if I want to listen to something else (read: always), I try to ignore him. But as most of you know, trying to ignore the demands of a three-year-old is futile.

"I want Beatles!" he repeated.

OK. This is a battle not to be won by me. So I look (while of course paying attention to the traffic around me) up in the visor above my head where I store my cds.

"I want Beatles!" echoed Doodle from the backseat.

"I'm working on it," I responded.

I locate the cd. "I want Beatles!" says Doodle. There's another cd in my stereo. I have to eject that cd -- "I want Beatles!" -- and put the other one in. While I'm fumbling around with the cd's, I get another "I want Beatles!"

"OK, I HEARD YOU!" I say, through clenched teeth.

"Jee-zus!!!!" comes the response from the back seat.

Do you know how hard it is not to laugh at times like this? Especially because I know that he most likely got that from me.

Big Crazy
Ladies and gentlemen, I give you... Big Crazy.



Actually, his name (I think) is Gordon. All these trains look alike to me.

However, Doodle refers to him, without any explanation given, as "Big Crazy." Other trains on the Thomas the Tank Engine series also have this moniker, and for the life of me, I cannot distinguish a pattern. For instance, it is not the trains with only the square faces, or the round faces. It is not all the blue trains.

Here is Edward, who is NOT Big Crazy:



But here is Chick Hicks, a character from the movie "Cars," who at times is and at other times is not Big Crazy:



I wish I could crack the code!

One thing is for sure ... Doodle loves his vehicles. George and the Man With the Yellow Hat are all but a memory now.

A quickie

*takes a breath*

I've been mired in work, my dangerous facebook addiction and ... work. So my blogging has suffered quite a bit. In fact the only reason I'm here now is because facebook is down. I'd like to jump out the window because facebook is down.

I'll be back soon with pictures, and a tale of something known only as "Big Crazy."

Dharma Boomerang

Every once in a while you see or hear something that makes you do a double take. A 'what-you-talkin-bout-Willis' if you will. Like this morning when I passed a semi that was decked out with an array of stuffed animals across the dashboard. That merited a turn to the side, narrowed eyes and questioning look from me to the male driver.

Yesterday I was rushing through Kohls to return something, and I passed a woman with infant twins, a boy and a girl. The boy was in a stroller and the mom was holding the girl. The girl was crying her little eyes out. As I walked by, I heard the mom say, "Oh, what's the matter, Dharma? What's the matter, Greg?"

Say WHAT?

Seriously? You named your children after a 90's sitcom starring Jenna Elfman?

Seriously?

I turned to stare, my mouth agape, at the woman and her twins. Had there been a pole or stationary object in front of me I would have hit it. Had I not been in a rush I might have stopped dead in my tracks to continue to stare at the woman in disbelief. I mean, if you're going to name girl and boy twins after a 90's TV show, why not name them Brandon and Brenda, or Darlene and DJ, or Ross and Rachel for Christ's sake.

x-posted on my myspace blog

LOLrus :3

This week's viral video featured a blubbery mammal showing off some fancy flipperwork with a trainer. My heart is all atwitter for this loveable guy.

One inflatable monkey away from a meltdown

... and then the world played a cruel and horrible joke on me and my family and TOOK DOWN THE BIG INFLATABLE MONKEY ON THE ROOF OF THE TIRE STORE.

Its tenure was exactly one week, but the impact will be felt for months to come. When we had to go to meet friends for dinner Saturday night, the promise of seeing the big monkey was the only thing that would get Doodle in the car. And then it wasn't there.

"I see big monkey, daddy," Doodle said from the back seat as we got onto the highway. The big monkey appears right after we get on.
"It's coming," he answered. When he and I saw the monkeyless building, we quickly scrambled for reasons.
"Uh," I stammered. "The monkey is sleeping!"
"No!" Doodle said.
"Yeah," my husband agreed. "He's sleeping, bud. There's nothing we can do."
"No, Daddy," Doodle insisted.
"No, Daddy."
Pause.
"NO, DADDY!"
Pause.
"NO, DADDY!"
Pause.
"NO, DADDY!"

And so on, until I couldn't hold back the laughter The fact that this was somehow Daddy's fault was too much for me to handle.

Sunday, he requested the monkey's presence once again. We told him the monkey had gone bye-bye, and again, Daddy got blamed. Heh.

This morning, same deal. Except when he asked if we would see the big monkey, I replied, "we'll try." And that seemed to work.

Maybe, in time, he'll forget this monkey business.

How'd he do that?
It's been a while since Uncle Dom had a mental break and ritualistically brought up random objects from the basement and deposited them in the living room. But the house is reaching new proportions of messiness, and the basement, especially, has become the dumping ground for Doodle's toys, puzzles, cars, and things which cars can drive upon.

This is definitely my fault, because the past two, maybe three months at work have been so relentlessly busy that I am typically a zombie by the time I get home. The weekends are spent gearing up for another crazy week. That is starting to dissipate now, but not by much. I'm working five day weeks rather than six day weeks. So I've got that going for me.

Anyway, the cleanliness of the house has definitely suffered. It's to a point now where I can barely deal with it myself. It makes me crazy to even look at it, and the thought of diving in to straighten things out is overwhelming.

It's taken its toll on my large black and white beast, as well.

So it began with a reindeer stuffed animal, a basement dweller, that was inexplicably in the living room one day this week. It wasn't there the night before, and to my knowledge Doodle was in his crib all night. Therefore, the next logical suspect is a four-legged creature with a past reputation for such things.

The reindeer was one thing.

But then he outdid himself.

Doodle and his dad had been playing with balloons, and there were two in the basement: a green one and a blue one. They were just regular rubber balloons (or latex or whatever), that my husband blew up and then they tossed them around one snowy weekend morning.

My husband found the green one in the living room one morning this week, but it had suffered a casualty and was deflated. He didn't think anything of it at the time, and threw the balloon carcass away.

However, yesterday morning, the blue balloon, fully inflated, made an appearance in the living room. Doodle threw it down the basement stairs, and last night, right before I went to bed, I noticed it again, back in the living room. Still inflated.

How on earth did he manage a feat like that? I am impressed. Maybe it's because I just trimmed his claws on Tuesday.

The brink of disaster
It's been touch and go with Doodle since he's been getting this molar. Yesterday, for instance, he was in great spirits, until I came home, and then apparently every emotion, every bit of pain, every whine he'd bottled up during the day came pouring out. I think it's sweet that he thinks of me when he is repressing his rage.

Anyway, for the past few days, we've noticed a large inflatable gorilla flying atop a tire store that is along the highway on our route to and from daycare. The gorilla, it brings joy and balance to our lives.

This morning, I was trying to roust Doodle from his slumbers. "Come on, it's time to get up and get ready for school," I said. This was met with the sight of Doodle pulling his blanket over his head and pretending he didn't hear me.

I tried again.

"Come on, it's time to get up and watch George," I said.
That merited the cracking open of one eyelid, then the closing of said eyelid, and the resuming of pseudo-sleep.

Suddenly, a lightbulb went off, both eyes opened, and he said to me, "I see big monkey?"

Bingo. We were up and at 'em in no time flat.

As we passed the inflatable gorilla, I pointed it out to Doodle, but he was looking out the other window and MISSED IT.

Oh. My. God.

Had we not been running superduper late, as in, one more minute and Doodle would have missed breakfast, I would have pulled over and made sure he saw that damn gorilla. Because a child without his inflatable gorilla fix is ... well, it's just wrong.

Hell Ohio freezes over

Last week, we had a bit of an ice storm. I am of the mind that snow and ice are pretty, as long as I don't have to drive in it/walk in it/touch it/shovel it. That's why I got married, quite frankly.



The trees all had a nice glassy covering on them. It was quite tranquil. Until rush hour the next day, and then it was quite ... suck.



Here is a look at our backyard last week. Notice the placement of the sandbox (that thing in the background with the four legs artistically placed at the end of the wind catcher thing).



Being cooped up indoors causes people to do strange things. Me? I drink raspberry vodka and soda, listen to Hall and Oates albums and write long messages to old boyfriends on facebook that ultimately get deleted when I come to my senses. OCDoodle does things like this ...



Please note that before the world froze, all of these letters were in a nice, aesthetically pleasing scramble format all over the refrigerator door. One day, my child decided to line up the letters along the edge. Here, Uncle Dom ponders this new alignment of the universe.



You'll notice that Doodle actually went back and separated out all the red letters, and then the green letters. It's some kind of strange toddler voodoo.

Then, Friday, we had a bit of a flurry. A sprinkling, really. Did I mention that this light dusting of snow coincided with Doodle getting one of his two-year molars? Or perhaps two of his two-year molars? The good news? I didn't have to drive to work on Friday because I was home with a feverish, crabby child. The bad news? I was home with a feverish, crabby child.

As you can see, we hardly got but a smattering of snow... remember that sandbox? It's there somewhere.



We didn't leave the house from Friday afternoon, after a harrowing trip to the doctor's office to find out that it's not an earache, thank you, drive through, please do not pass go until you pay $25, until sometime Sunday.



Now that that's all behind us, we can look forward to things like St. Patrick's Day. See? We can even wear crazy St. Patty's day hats. Try and disregard ths fact that my son is wearing the sweatshirt of the devil's football team. I didn't buy it for him.



Yep. We're all on the mend. The snow has subsided, the roads are clear, the fever has broken, we've sprung forward. And the sweet voice of Tom Hamilton is back on the radio calling spring training games. It won't be long now.

Text #2
While we're on the topic of texting and my boss... last week I was out of town with him at a conference. We were sitting in the hotel bar with another girl I work with. The hotel has been under construction and our rooms are newly-redone.

"You know, I think I'm the first person to stay in my room," my boss said.
"I know I'm not," said the other gal.
"Why's that?" he asked.
"I had dirty towels on my floor, and ... pubic hairs ..." she replied, uttering the last phrase under her breath.
My boss is hard of hearing in the best of conditions, and in a crowded bar, his hearing is no good at all.
"What?" he asked. But she wouldn't repeat it. She and I looked at each other and burst out laughing.
He looked at me. "What'd she say?" he asked.
"I'm not repeating it," I told him.
"Why not?" he asked.
"I'm just not. God. I can't even look at you," I said, putting my hand in front of my face, traces of blotchy red marks beginning to crawl across my neck.
"Text it to me," he said.
"I am NOT texting it to you!" I told him.

But being out of town in a hotel bar with your co-workers makes you do strange things. Several seconds later, my boss received a text that said "pubes" and nothing more. I don't claim to be proud of my actions. Really.

Text
This morning, even though all the roads have been clear for at least 24 hours, traffic was horrible. I was running late already, since Doodle insisted that I make him eggs. Usually he eats breakfast at school, but he's been getting one of his 2-year molars, so I made him eggs in case he was unable to eat at school.

Anyhoo. I'm sitting in a traffic jam and I send my boss a text. "On my way in. Traffic sux"

Less than a minute later, I get a text back that says "U sux"

We're tight like that.

Fight the power
Doodle got a time out at school yesterday for making an attempt to escape from his classroom. The toddler room is connected to the staff coat/break room, and there is a separate door the staff uses to enter/exit their room. Doodle was trying to make his break through the staff door.

This isn't the first time he's been caught hightailing it out of his classroom. Once, in the summer, he was busted attempting to lead an entire group of toddlers to their freedom.

I'm thinking that yesterday was the trial run for something on a larger scale. He's got something up his sleeve, for sure. When I asked him about it yesterday, he pretended it didn't happen. Highly suspicious.

This doesn't overly concern me, because let's say he did manage to get the door open (unlikely, since he can't turn the doorknob). He still has to go down a hallway, past the office where the head of the school works, and then figure out how to open the outside door. In short, there's no way he could get out of the building on his own inertia.

What does worry me is the pattern that is forming. Is he a future class cutter? Will he be spending fifth period out in the parking lot smoking doobies?

Britney-in-waiting
So we're watching tv the other night, maybe it was the Oscars. Miley Cyrus came on screen. My husband turns to me and says, "how long do you give her before she shaves her head?"

Happy March!
In honor of spring being just around the corner, and daylight savings time, and Easter, and St. Patrick's Day, and all things wonderful about March, I offer Doodle singing an ever-so-seasonal tune you may recognize.

American Idol Drinking Game, 2008 Edition
By now, these seasons of American Idol have become so boring and predictable, so pitchy, so safe, that I can get through a typical 90-minute episode in about 15 minutes, with all the fast forwarding. I watch the beginning of a performance, and if it's good, I'll watch the whole thing. If I'm bored, which usually happens within the first five seconds, I fast forward. I'll watch the judges' feedback, fast forward through anything Ryan Seacrest has to say, the commercials, and any other extraneous filler (see: Paula's craptastic video) that gets thrown in along the way.

In order to make things interesting, I have thought of some phrases and occurrances to use for the American Idol drinking game. If you are unfamiliar with the rules, whenever one of the following happens, *swig*:

Use of the words:
safe
pitchy
Paula uttering the phrase "in the pocket"
relevant
"(NAME) is back this week"
"after the break"
dreadful
cabaret

References to:
Simon's accent
Simon's wardrobe
someone's performance being likened to a lounge act

During performance:
singer begins on stool, then stands at chorus of song
singer begins on top of stairs
singer points to the band
audience waves their arms in the air
swirly graphics behind singer

I has been warned
Driving Doodle to day care this morning, I got a stern talking-to.
"Mommy, don't hit me," Doodle said from the back seat.
"Don't hit you? I would never hit you. It's not nice to hit," I said.
"Don't hit Daddy," he said. "Go to time out."
"I would never hit Daddy. It's not nice to hit," I said.

I was also instructed not to pull Doodle's or Daddy's hair, and finally not to bite Doodle's or Daddy's finger.

I guess he told me!

Fall Out Boy
I knew this day was coming.

Doodle is still in a crib, despite other kids his age being in big boy and big girl beds already. There hasn't been a reason for us to switch him over. He's been perfectly content in his crib, and we've been perfectly content knowing that he isn't going anywhere in the night.

The thought of escaping just hasn't occurred to him. I'm told that I hightailed it from my crib at 18 months of age. Doodle is a year past that mark, and still, nothing.

Nothing until yesterday.

He woke up from his nap while my husband and I were in the midst of preparations for the Super Bowl. We were having the in-laws over for the game. I went to his room, and he said he didn't want to get up. He playfully slung one leg over the side of the crib and said, "I play horsie!" But then he took his leg down and sat back down in his crib.

I went back to the kitchen and resumed working on making my homemade guacamole. The kitchen is within shouting distance of Doodle's room, so I answered his constant calls of "Mommy! Mommy!"
"What?"
"Come here."

I'd go to his room and he'd say, "No, Mommy, go away."

So I went back to guac-making. And, with any good guac maker, the truth lies in the testing. I needed a chip to make sure the guac was up to snuff. When I reached for the bag, it fell off the counter.

"What happened, Mommy?" Doodle yelled from the bedroom.
"I dropped the chips," I called back to him.
"I want chips," he said.

Five seconds later ...

BOOM

"Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh!!!!!!!"

I ran into Doodle's room to see him on the floor, screaming his head off. I picked him up and comforted him, and asked if he fell boom. He nodded through his tears. Miraculously, when the offer of chips was brought up, his tears dissipated and he even had a sampling of the guac. (And double dipped, I might add.)

This morning, he put his leg over the side again, when I was watching him. But then he said, "don't want to fall boom."

So maybe he won't try it again any time soon. On the other hand, it may be time for us to consider the big boy bed.

Office phenomenon #428
Employee #1 is standing over (copy machine/fax machine/printer), baffled look on his or her face. He/she opens the paper drawer, shuts it, stares. Looks around the side of the machine. Stares.

Employee #2 walks by and notices Employee #1. "Is it broken?" they ask. Employee #1 nods.

Employee #2 then opens the paper drawer, shuts it, stares. Maybe opens a side drawer. Peers inside.

Both continue to stare, baffled, at broken machine.

Employee #3 walks by, joins in the fray. "Does it need toner?" they ask.

"Tried that," says Employee #1.
"Hmm," says Employee #3, and opens the paper drawer, then shuts it. And stares.

Repeat until all orifices of said machine have been probed, and problem remains unsolved. Employee #1, 2 or 3 suggest they call someone for repair.

Feeling old, and then young again
Last weekend, I made a stop at Ye Olde Liquore Storee to pick up some libations. I don't often patronize liquor stores, becasue they sell my sissy drinks right at the grocery store. However, my supply of Tanqueray was dwindling, and it was time to make the trek.

Having just turned 32, I would have loved nothing more than to be carded at the liquor store. But I wasn't. The two twentysomething girls in line in front of me were carded. Next to them I guess I looked like an old bag.

I went home totally deflated that some scraggly liquor store worker deemed me older than 21.

This weekend, my husband and I went out to eat and apparently, in this restaurant, which we have been to a million times previously, you have to be 21 or older after 5. So the hostess carded us both. When she saw my age she said, "Oh, I would have never guessed!"

"Thank you," I said. I felt as happy as a little girl. Or at least, a 21-year-old girl.

Triple double
Today I turn thirty-deuce. When I told Doodle this morning that it was my birthday, he of course replied, "it's my birthday too!"

Funny. You think I would have remembered that.

Because it looked fun, and because I have my iPod on shuffle already
Stolen from Green Tuna.

Here's how it works:
1. Put your iTunes on Shuffle.
2. For each question, press the next button to get your answer.
3. You must write that song name down no matter what.

Q. What would best describe your personality?
A. Message in a Bottle - the Police
(sending out an SOS to the world?)

Q. If some one says it's okay you say...
A. "Grey Street" - Dave Matthews Band

Q. What do you like in a guy/girl?
A. I Did It -- Dave Matthews Band
Heh.

Q.How do you feel today?
A. Belief - John Mayer

Q.What is your life's purpose?
A. Sweetest Goodbye - Maroon 5
Ouch.

Q. What is your motto?
A. Cigarettes and Chocolate Milk - Rufus Wainwright
I guess.

Q. What do your friends think of you?
A. Run Run Run - Phoenix
*sniffle*

Q. What do you think of your friends?
A. It Looks like Love - Josh Rouse

Q. What do you think of your parents?
A. Through With You - Maroon 5

Q.What do your parents think of you?
A. First of the Gang to Die - Morrissey

Q. What do you think about very often?
A. Crush - Dave Matthews Band

Q. What do you think of your best friend?
A. Two - Ryan Adams

Q. What do you think of the person you love?
A. Easy Lover - Phil Collins/Philip Bailey
HAH!!!!!

Q.What is your life story?
A. It's All Been Done - Barenaked Ladies
Fitting, strangely...

Q. What do you want to be when you grow up?
A. Halloweenhead - Ryan Adams

Q. What do you think when you see the person you love?
A. Must Get Out - Maroon 5

Q. What is your hobby/interest?
A. What a Fool Believes - Doobie Brothers


Q. What will they play at your funeral?
A. Loungin' - LL Cool J

Q. What is your biggest secret?
A. Holiday - Madonna

I have more in common with Jessica Simpson than I'm willing to admit
I recently realized that three of the men Jessica Simpson has dated, post Nick Lachey, have been on my top "wouldn't kick em out of bed for eating crackers" list:

1. Adam Levine
2. John Mayer
3. Tony Romo

This is horrifying to me. More because I can't believe I have the same taste in men as Jessica Simpson. If she dates Peter Krause next I will be suicidal.

Year of the Fox?
I am enjoying the day off today. Although, the day off came complete with a Doodle, so it's not quite the leisurely off day I may have liked it to be. Doodle and I went to my office and saw my co-workers. He was incredibly shy at first, and then was running rampant in the executive offices (which were shockingly empty) by the time we left.

As I got off my exit on the turnpike, a reddish blur on the side of the road caught my eye. There, chillin' out among some tall grass, was a fox. And not of the Michael J. variety either.

I don't know about your parts, but in these parts, I have never, EVER, in my entire life, seen a fox. Maybe they're around here and I never knew.

On New Years Eve, I take every little out-of-the-ordinary happening as an omen of things to come, so I am trying to come up with some sort of reason why the fox revealed itself to me. No, I haven't been drinking yet.

Here is an interesting bit I found online: (from houseofnames.com)
This fox is a symbol of the devil tempting man; therefore, it may be a reminder to the bearer to stay alert and resist temptation.

Hmm. I'll keep that in mind as I enter 2008.

Happy New Year everybody!

Sing it
I have to say ... I have been pleasantly surprised by NBC's "Clash of the Choirs" that I put on my DVR as a whim. A lot of the forum criticism I've been reading is that these are not real choirs. However, to the average viewer like myself, these are great sets of voices that have come together over a short period of time and have sounded great.

I hate to say this but I found myself rooting for Team Bolton. As in Michael. My life has hit a new low point. The guy who sang lead on both of their songs was great! Now that they are eliminated I think I have to throw my loyalties in with Cincinnati boy Nick Lachey representin' for Ohio.

Two things I dont care for about the show:
1) Host Maria Menunos. She's right up there with the Chenbot on the emotionless responses. Seacrest, she ain't.
2) Patti LaBelle. Her choir is the shiz, but her diva antics turn me off.

The finale is tonight. It's worth tuning in to see some amazing singing groups doing their thang.

Happy Holidays


Wishing you all the best this holiday season.

Why Survivor: China was one of the worst seasons ever
There are so many reasons, but here are just a few of mine.

1. The finale featured no Jeff Probst helicopter sequence
2. The three most popular Survivors, as voted by the fans, were James, Mullet Lady and ... Peih-Gee?!?
3. Amanda's blurred ass cheeks
4. The final three = how do you pick the best of that bunch?

Ugh. And the all-star season next season, if you even want to call it that. Some of the so-called all-stars, I can't even remember. And I've been a loyal follower of the show from the beginning!

I hate to say it, but I think it's time to pull the plug. Let's just find Probst another TV job. Mkay?

It is finished
... and a day early, no less. I hate procrastination.
Final word count: 50,010.

Somebody dim the lights
File this under "Kids say the darnedest things:"

Dessert is a rarity in our house. In fact, I'd say it's a once-in-a-blue-moon occasion. We just don't buy dessert, we don't need it. Doodle doesn't know any better, and my hubby isn't into sweets. I, on the other hand, furtively throw handfuls of Nerds down my throat during the day at work to make up for the lack of sugar at the dinner table. ;)

Even at our weekly Sunday dinner, when we go to my in-laws house, dessert is reserved for special occasions. Birthdays, usually.

So at Thanksgiving, we finish our gorging on the turkey and all the other carb-heavy fare, and then it's time for pie. Glorious pumpkin pie. We each are served our plates, including Doodle, and we wait patiently for everyone to be seated so we can mow down on the scrumptious treat.

Doodle has a look of utter confusion on his face when we commence the eating of the pie. Confusion turns to anger. "Lights off!" he yells.
I give him a look. "Lights off? Why do you want the lights off?"
"Hapbirday," he says. In English, "happy birthday."
"Ohhhhhh," I say, and explain to the rest of the family that Doodle thinks it's time to sing happy birthday, since we're having dessert.

So not only did we dim the lights, but we sang "Happy Birthday" to the turkey, because it was the first thing that came to mind. Too bad it wasn't alive to enjoy the song sung in its honor.

Then, and only then, was it acceptable to eat our pie.

Curious
A miraculous thing has occurred in the KJ household. The Wiggles have fallen out of favor. Greg, Murray, Jeff and Anthony have been replaced in Doodle's heart by a monkey who goes by the name of George.

Curious George is way easier to tolerate. There are no hokey songs or dances, no annoying pirates or dinosaurs. The episodes are cute, and most importantly, easy for an adult to tune out.

Plus I've come to have an appreciation for the Man in the Yellow Hat. The man has the patience of Job. How he's not taken is beyond me. Sure, he's a little eccentric, what with that whole yellow outfit thing. But he's obviously financially well off. He has a nice apartment in the city, with a doorman and a snooty Dachsund in the lobby, as well as a quaint country home near Lake Wannasink Lake. I haven't been able to glean what he does for a living, but in his spare time, he takes on projects such as taking a moth census, studying the nocturnal feeding habits of raccoons, etc. So I'm thinking he's some kind of Ph.D. in what, zoology?

Plus, the man has a monkey for a pet. Haven't you always wanted a monkey? He'd be a great dad. When George absolutely trashes his house, or worse -- someone else's, he just shrugs his shoulders in an "aw shucks" sort of way and either just cleans it up himself or offers to pay for whatever damage his monkey has caused.

I know in one episode he tried to work it with Professor Wiseman, but I don't know if she's into him or whether they're just friends. Me, I think he's a total catch.

Staring down 40k
Yes, it's true, I'm still on pace to finish National Novel Writing Month. Tomorrow I should reach 40,000 words. That's only 10,000 more to go. My novel is pretty much about to wind down anyway, so I just have to embellish some parts and tie up some loose ends, and my characters should have long, semi-happy lives.

I haven't really been up for sharing, but when it's over I might post excerpts just so everyone can see what a mess it's been all month. Or make suggestions as to how to fix it, should I ever be so inclined.

As I mentioned before, being forced to write a certain amount of words every day has made me pretty regimented. If I have certain things that need to be accomplished each day, I know I can't lollygag because I still have the daunting task ahead of me of pegging out 1,667 words before my head can hit the pillow. It really does amaze me how much extra time I have had during the evenings if I just cut out some of the time-wasting activities (hello, myspace! how are ya!) that I engage in.

And I've even squeezed in some serious treadmill time. Probably the most walking I've done since I was pregnant and under doctor's orders to do so. I hope that the results are showing in my waistline. Next month when there is less writing to do I am going to step it up (har) even more. Or so I say now.

Maybe I can declare December to be National Treadmill Walking Month (NaTreWaMo) and come up with some kind of crazy mileage number to hit every day.

That's not such a bad idea, actually ... ;)

Young talent
Congrats to Cleveland Indians pitcher C.C. Sabathia on winning the Cy Young. He may not have had as many wins as Josh Beckett but he had a damn good year. Too bad we don't have a ring to back that up.

TwentyK
I just had to kill off one of my characters' high school girlfriends, and it was kind of painful. I hated to do it, because it makes my character a total train wreck for years. I do plan on giving him a happy ending, though.

Tomorrow, if all goes well, I will be hitting the 20,000 word mark. That's a lot of words. And it's not even halfway to the end of this crapfest I'm calling my NaNo novel. The last chapter, though, was not too bad. Might be its own story someday after this is all over.

So long, and thanks for all the fish
What did YOU get in the mail today?

I got a fish.



Look! You can squeeeeeeeeeze it!

It's a "pay it forward" kind of thing, as you may be able to see from the note. It is signed by the person who sent it to me (at first, I thought it was autographed by the Browns or something... dammit!) as well as, I'm assuming, the people who had it before her.

So now I am charged with this fish, and finding the next sucker recipient. Everyone in my office told me that they will be mean to me until I find someone to pass it to.

It also came to me with postage due. So thanks for that.

Mujica
Are there just some songs that you hear and have to restrain yourself from belting it out along with the radio, cd, 8-track, or what have you? I have several. I am a self-admitted car singer alonger, so adding my semi-decent voice on top of an already good song is almost second nature to me. I tend to be drawn to songs which are within my singing range. And usually by male artists, with few exceptions (Shawn Colvin and Sheryl Crow come to mind). When I make mix cd's for my car, the same songs wind up on them, over and over again, with a few new arrivals to spice things up.

This morning as I was doing my commute across the turnpike, I popped in a scratched up mix CD that I picked up off the floor of the back seat, labeled "12/04 Mix". Surprise, surprise, it has 5 or 6 songs that are on the most recent mix cd I put together. But then, it took a pleasant turn.

WARNING: THE FOLLOWING ADMISSION IS SEVERELY EMBARRASSING AND PROBABLY SHOULDN'T EVEN BE MADE PUBLIC BY ME, BECAUSE IT MAKES ME SERIOUSLY UNCOOL...

The Doobie Brothers "What a Fool Believes." Oh my God, I love that song. Something about Michael McDonald's smooth barking voice (do those two terms contradict?) ... I just can't help but get a big old smile on my face. Of course I had to add my slightly stuffed up voice to do backing vocals.

Then I remembered that I have a live version performed with Kenny Loggins, and I love that version too, because it has a surprise Michael McDonald appearance, and so right now at work I have that song cranked in my headphones. And it is really, really hard not to bust into harmony for the chorus. An exercise in extreme restraint.

But I can see Bad Lady out of the corner of my eye, keeping me in check. I am having to settle for some furious foot tapping under the desk.

Continuation of previous post

... she says just before she comes down with some crazy stomach illness that keeps her on the couch, under a blanket, and in bed by 9:30 last night.

Deadline
A deadline is a hell of a motivator. And having a daily deadline has had a positive effect on my life in general. For instance, yesterday, I worked a full day (at least, I was present at my desk for the required amount of hours. What I did at said desk, however, was another story), came home, entertained Doodle (yes, this involved the Wiggles), ate dinner, cleaned up after dinner, entertained Doodle some more, got Doodle in his PJ's, watched half a tivo'ed episode of Grey's Anatomy, put Doodle to bed, walked on my treadmill shorter than I should have but did it nonetheless, showered, and then finally banged out the remaining 1500 or so words to make the 10,000 word mark last night. And I went to bed before 11.

It's funny how when I'm so busy I can suddenly cram in twice as many things as I would ordinarily do in a day. I should be this productive all the time. I don't know why I'm not. Actually I do ... it's so much easier, immediately upon depositing Doodle in his crib, to plank my butt down on the couch and do nothing but watch the tivo. Or fuddle around on the interwebs for hours. Especially when the weather becomes cold, it's hard to want to do anything that doesn't involve sweats and a blanket.

I should do NaNo every month.

A welcome break from the monotony
Here! Having for you to enjoy, this moving picture document of toddler. Much happiness! He sing for you song of "Row Row Row Your Boat."

Behind the 8-ball
My NaNo word count is somewhere in the range of 7,300 and today I am supposed to crack the 10k word mark. Either I have to crank out some serious wordage today during work (oops) or I am going to start lagging behind. This is the precipice of disaster ...

Update
As the first snow flakes of the season hit the ground, I buckled down and cranked my word count up to just over 8,000. That's just 2k shy of where I need to be today. And so far I've done nothing but tweak what I already have.

Who doesn't love a cupcake?
I have these bouts of domesticity where I do stuff like bake. And clean. It doesn't happen too often, so it's always a special occasion when either of the two events happen.

Cake mix just happened to be on sale at the grocery store so I picked up some and made cupcakes yesterday. With butter cream frosting and non-pareil sprinkles. Doodle ate the frosting off of two of them but left the cake.

This morning, we were leaving to go to work/day care, and Doodle turned around and went back into the house for something. I was assuming it would be his blanket or something of that ilk. But no, he returned with the Tupperware of cupcakes like it was going to come to school with him.

It's nice of him to think of sharing those with his friends, but those are OUR cupcakes. Ya hear?

It was good in the beginning
Word count: 5891

The novel is progressing. I have found redemption in at least one of my characters and they are starting to behave themselves, although they are having a lot of one-night stands, which I guess is not so good.

But the other great news is of the non-fictional type. The Great Roofing Project of '07 is finished! This has been a four weekend long escapade in which my husband and his buddies tore off our old, rotting garage roof, replaced the wood, and reshingled the bitch. In the process my house has turned into the ultimate disaster area. Oh, and I should mention that I used to have side steps, and now I have side rubble. They have met the fate of Ye Olde Sledgehammere. The steps were not innocent victims, however. They had begun to crumble of their own accord. They were merely put out of their misery. Except now, we have to go through the front door, which, to a two year old who is, as my husband put it, a "rigid control freak," is contrary to the great master plan of the universe. Now we have to figure out how to replace the steps, and with what money. I'm thinking the rubble may be a permanent fixture. Or at least until spring.

Doodle is recovering from his cold, but I'm still bracing for the inevitable ear infection that always seems to follow. Oh, and the Wiggles are in town tomorrow. Please don't tell him.

P.S.
My characters are shallow assholes.

Ideas, please!
Word count: 1636

I have had a Word document open at work all day, and I have been occasionally rattling off a few words here and there. I'm already behind, but I'm hoping to make it up and maybe pull ahead a little this weekend.

Because I'm too frazzled to think, I am asking the internets for assistance.

1. What are some food items that would be served at a small dinner party?
2. Name some interesting jobs that it is conceivable that someone in their 30's living in the midwest would have.

I'm trying to figure out how I want to post my story as I'm going along. I don't want it out for the whole world to see, and/or steal, not that anyone would want to ;) But I want to have it available for friends/blog readers if anyone is interested. Suggestions on that as well?

Halloweenie
Below is a picture of Doodle in his Halloween costume last night as he went Trick or Treating:

Oh, oops. There IS no photo, because Doodle refused to get into his doggy costume, and secondly refused to go outside even just to walk in the stroller and see the other kids. We ended up doing what we do every night: watch the Wiggles until mom and/or dad can't take it anymore.

There's always next year.

Every Day I Write the Book
Today kicks off National Novel Writing Month, an although I haven't typed one single word, I've got some good thoughts brewing. Wish me luck. And send snacks.

Two days
... til the start of NaNoWriMo. Right now I am all about it ... but ask me in about a week and a half how I'm doing. I was going to try and do NaBloPoMo or whatever the hell it is, too, but that might just be too much. I do actually have to have some semblance of working.

I will, however, periodically post links to my novel in progress, along with my usual non-sequiter posts.

An evening with RA
On Saturday night, I was at the Ryan Adams concert in Lakewood, Ohio, for what seemed like a small eternity. Not that it was a bad thing. It's just that he played for a reallllllllly long time. Two full sets. No opening act. It was a whole lotta Ryan. And I had to pee and wanted to wait til the end.

Admittedly I'm not as huge of a fan of his newer stuff. I liked his first few solo albums, and then the later stuff is kind of hit or miss with me. When he veers country I'm not so much enthralled.

That being said, I still really enjoyed his show. He and his band the Cardinals play well together and sound great. I especially enjoyed the harmonizing the guys did.

For maybe the first 45 minutes, Ryan did not speak between songs. There was a kind of uncomfortable silence when each song was finished and they re-tuned their guitars for the next one. Then every once in a while he'd say something under his breath that would be audible for the crowd and he'd get a laugh. Finally, he broke the silence in a big way and told the crowd how happy he and the band were to be there. Suddenly he launched into a diatribe about Twinkies and asked the crowd if they had ever microwaved a Twinkie. He said it's only something you do "at 3 a.m. ... between 3 a.m. and 3:30 a.m." He also cautioned not to use a plastic bowl to microwave the Twinkie because the Twinkie itself is made mostly of plastic.

The first set focused mostly on newer material, mostly from Easy Tiger, and featured a lot of deviation from the original arrangements and into more trippy, Grateful Dead-esque jam sessions. The second set was more mellow -- as Ryan called it, the "Wanted Dead or Alive" part of the show. There was some Jon Bon Jovi reference that I kind of missed, but I think it was because he and his guitarist were set up next to each other on stools and recalled back to Jon Bon and Richie Sambora. I think. Who knows.

He cranked out a bunch of crowd favorites during the second set, including "Two" off Easy Tiger, Rescue Blues, Let It Ride, Please Do Not Let Me Go, and my favorite, La Cienega Just Smiled. He also went off on "Friends" -- the wedding episode where Ross says the wrong name at the altar. He wanted to know the untold story about Emily, Ross' almost-wife. He surmised that she went back to England and "wrote some unreadable novel" or something like that. Funnier when he said it.

He also left the stage briefly -- or not so briefly -- to allow for his keyboard player to tell the joke of the evening. The joke took maybe 15 seconds, and then ... no Ryan. Awkward silence on stage. Dum de dum ... still no Ryan. So the band members all kind of looked at each other like, "ok ... now what ..." and it was long enough that I was beginning to think that he had just decided he was done and not coming back. Finally, after maybe another minute, he came running back on stage to roaring applause from the crowd.

"Sorry guys, I had some Red Bull before the show and I just had to pee. I'm a human being..."

Yep. Awesome. Guess I should have gone, too. But I didn't want to get up and miss anything.

Thanks, Ryan, for an eccentric and cool show. I wouldn't have expected anything less.

Memeage

Ever kissed anyone with the name starting with a B?
yes

Are you watching TV?
no I'm at work

Say you were given a drug test right now. Would you pass?
yup

Do you know anyone in jail/prison?
no

Do you like the color green?
you obviously have no idea where I work

Who was the last person to send you a text message?
Ali

Ever drove into the ghetto to buy drugs?
*cough*

Last restaurant you went to?
Rocknes

Last voicemail you received?
my boss saying he was sick and wouldn't be in

What did you do yesterday?
went to work, came home, watched some tv, hit the sack

What's the first thing you would do with 5 million dollars?
pay off debts

Have you ever been on your school's track team?
I smoked in high school, nuff said

Do you have any piercings?
just ears, plus the eyebrow scar

If all of your friends were going on a road trip, would you?
if it were ok with my hubby

Do you swear at your parents?
Only mildly

Is your phone right beside you?
my work phone is; my cell is in my purse

Have you cried today?
no

Do you think that someone is thinking about you right now?
yes

What kind of bedsheets do you have?
light blue

Have you ever crawled through a window?
yes

Are you photogenic?
no

What do you spend most of your money on?
bills

Is there a secret you've never told any of your friends?
yes

Have you ever told someone you loved them but didn't mean it at all?
no

Have you ever changed clothes in a vehicle?
yes

Have you ever kissed two people in the same day?
no

Are your parents married/divorced/separated?
divorced

What objects are around you right now?
my desk crap, bag of pretzels, bottle of water

Are you genuinely happy?
no

Do you have trust issues?
yes

Are you looking forward to tomorrow?
no more than any other Thursday

Where's the last place you went?
the Hallmark store to buy a card for my aunt's b-day

Do you miss someone right now?
no

What are you doing this weekend?
Going to see Ryan Adams in concert on Saturday night!

O-bla-di, O-bla-da
... and then I woke up this morning and realized that I live in Cleveland, and this is what happens when you live in Cleveland. There's always next year.

Go Cavs.

Top 10 Things I'd Rather Be Doing Than Watching ALCS Game 7 Right Now

10. I'm sure I have socks that need sorting.
9. Paint. Drying.
8. Major oral surgery.
7. Two words: War and Peace.
6. Grandma could use a pedicure.
5. Is it tax time yet?
4. Finding and eradicating dust bunnies.
3. All Wiggles, all the time.
2. I didn't realize that Phil Collins HAD these many greatest hits!

and the number one thing I'd rather be doing than watching ALCS game 7 right now:

1. Sleeping -- knowing that the Indians won it in 6.

Alas ... this is the life of a Cleveland sports fan. I'm keeping my fingers crossed, but knowing how these things usually go, I can't help but feel that it's over already.

Zoo-dle
Last weekend my mom and I took Doodle to the local zoo. I had never been to this particular zoo, but I was quite pleased to find out how kid-friendly it was. My larger metropolitan zoo has large exhibits that are quite stunning if you know where to look, but for a 2-year-old who only sees what is right in front of his face, it's kind of boring.

Not here. Look at how close we were to this lion:



It actually took my breath away. I just thought to myself, this glass better be thick. The lioness, however, could have cared less about Doodle or me or my mom ... the zookeepers were standing behind us and I'm betting she was waiting for her mid-morning snack. Which thankfully, wasn't my 2-year-old.

I'm making a pledge ...
To do NaNoWriMo this year. I just jotted down some ideas for my novel. Hopefully I will follow through this year, or least go halfway. Come November I will post my progress on another blog, and occasionally link back here in case anyone is interested in reading. Plus I will need some encouragement, I'm sure.

Scenes from the Jake


I was fortunate enough to be able to be at the American League Championship Series game 4 on Tuesday at Jacobs Field.



The Indians beat the Red Sox, 7-4, and are within one game of being in the World Series. Trying to describe the experience of being at a playoff game at the Jake to someone who hasn't ever had a chance, is impossible.



The air was alive with the whoosh of towels, each out, from the first to last, received a standing ovation, and the roar of the crowd made you yell louder just to try and hear yourself. Is it possible that our time has come once again?



They're playing right now, and losing, but they have two more chances after tonight. Let's hope we don't need them.

GO TRIBE!!!!!

The Mayor of Memeville
1. What's the last big mistake you made?
trusting someone I shouldn't have

2. Is the sun shining?
not at the moment, it's supposed to rain all day, and I've got baseball tickets tonight

3. Can you successfully blow up and tie a balloon?
I hate balloons so no

4. Do you like text messaging?
I've slowly caught on to the texting phenomenon

5. Got any lately?
Are we still talking about texts? Doesn't matter, the answer is still yes ;)

6. Boyfriend/Girlfriend?
husband

7. Are you wearing any make-up right now?
Yes

8. What are your plans for later?
ALCS game 4, GO TRIBE!!!!!

9. What is your favorite MCR song?
You know, the one that goes "duh duh duh duh da na na na na na duh duh duh" .... uh, who is MCR?

10. Is there any drama within your life?
Quite a bit. See question 1

11. What is a song they need to stop playing on the radio?
Anything by Nickelback and that new piece of Fergie crap

12. Are you happy with life right now?
I should be, but I am never quite satisfied, I always want more.

13. Does anyone like you?
I should hope so

14. What is your current obsession?
Pete Yorn music

15. Do you have a dog?
no

16. Ever been kissed under mistletoe?
yes

17. Would you ever smile at a stranger?
Yes

18.Ever pulled your pants down in the street?
Yes, and then I asked for TP for my bunghole ... uh, no.

19. Do your toenails have nail polish on them?
A fresh coat from 2 days ago

20. Last curse word you said was?
Hard to remember because I do it so frequently but I'll guess f-bomb

21. Are your lips chapped?
Always

22. Are you currently jealous?
in a roundabout way

23. Did you have a dream last night?
I always dream but I don't remember anything from last night

24. Are you mad at anyone?
just disappointed

25. Who is the loudest person you know?
co-worker

26. What's going on this weekend?
More of the roofing project at home, I'll have Doodle all weekend trying to keep him out of trouble. And hopefully more October baseball :)

27. Done any spring cleaning lately?
I think I did some last spring.

28. Anything bothering you?
yup

29. Do you do cheerleading?
In 8th grade I did. And I have the pics to prove it ;)

30. Did you wish for anything last night on 11:11?
World peace, as always ;)

31. Do you drink coffee on a regular basis?
I drink tea

32. Do you wish you were someone else?
I'm pretty content with who I am

33. What jewelry are you wearing?
wedding ring, watch, silver earrings, my heart necklace

34. Funniest thing that happened today?
See my previous blog about IBL

35. Kiss anyone lately?
hubby and son

36. Are you easily amused?
very

37. Can you lick your elbow?
that sounds complicated.

38. Do you know this song, "we stay fly no lie you know this"?
sounds familiar ... is it Diddy?

39. How many piercings do you have?
3 in one ear, 1 in other ear, and scar from eyebrow piercing gone bad

40. What are/were your plans over the summer?
Get some sun on my ghostly skin ... didn't work out so well

41. How's life going for you?
just dandy

42. What is on your mind just this second?
when are we going to lunch???

43. Favorite vacation spot?
Vegas, baby, Vegas!

44. Do you have on chap stick?
no but I need some

45. What hurts right now?
toe -- from bad shoes and lots of walking at convention

46. Do you like school?
I didn't mind it, I've been considering going back for a masters, someday

47. Is this survey good?
not particularly

48. Sneak out lately?
snuck away from some sketchballs at convention hotel bar

49. Last thing you drank?
tea

50. Do you want a tattoo?
no

51. Want any more piercings?
no

Boss' Day
Today is Boss' Day, so my department brought in cupcakes, cookies, balloons, and we all signed a card for my boss. Everyone put stuff like "you're the greatest boss in the whole wide world" and stuff like that.

IBL, however, penned this gem:
"Remember, a wet bird never flies at night."

Yeah. We're all a bit scared.

Today
It's a great day today.
No matter what happens at work, at home, on the road.
Today, I feel good.

Sorry, wrong number
Over the past couple days I have had several calls on my cell phone from a strange area code and unrecognizable number. So of course, I haven't answered. It's unusual enough for me to be getting calls. I don't typically talk on the phone other than to my husband, or the occasional friend or co-worker, but we're talking few and far between.

Finally, the caller left a message, and something in his tone made me feel a sudden surge of empathy... it was just a few words. "Marsha, give me a call, ok?"

The next time the guy tried calling, I answered, only to tell him that he had the wrong number. "That's what I was afraid of," he said. "I apologize."

There's a story in there, I'm sure. Either Marsha gave him the wrong number, or he wrote it down wrong, and now he doesn't know how to contact her.

I am thinking of doing NaNoWriMo this year; this is a possibility...

Don't worry, GT, I look like Beyonce too
I have never heard of some of these folks, but here are some of my celebrity lookalikes. I did another photo and got the more realistic Michelle Branch, who someone told me I look like just the other day.

http://www.myheritage.com/collage

Don't Mess with the Chee
I just wanted to mention that over the past two weeks, I have gotten THREE hits on this blog from people searching for either Lance Nip Chee or Toast Chee. Bless you all. Those crackers, they are teh good.