Riddle

Hello!
I have a riddle for you:

What has two thumbs and no braces?

THIS GAL RIGHT HERE!

My mouth feels naked and slippery and wonderful.

All gone!

I no longer have to worrying about the Apocalypse happening before I get my braces off.

I no longer have to decide between being some crazy metal mouthed lunatic tearing out people throats with my braces like that guy from "Moonraker" or the love slave of one of the last remaining orthodontists left in the world.

I tell you though, when they were painstakingly taking off each bracket, I listened closely.

 I wouldn't have been the least bit surprised if I heard the cloppity clop of hooves as the Four Horsemen of The Apocalypse raced past the orthodontists office and through the streets of Cranston.

Of course, then everyone would have thrown down their orthodontic torture devices and run for the hills.

Leaving me screwed. With a half mouthful of braces.

But happy day, they are out! One more week and I get my second retainer and then-

come on End of Days! I'm all set! (Just kidding, really)

Even if it came tomorrow, I think having a retainer would be the least of my worries.

And nobody can blame me because it happened AFTER the braces came off, so there.

And now I'm assuming you want pictures. I have never liked pictures of my smile before braces, during braces and now after braces. I was going to show a series of pictures of me showing my teeth while bored, scared, vaguely annoyed and confused, but no. The kids will be home soon and I'd like to sit and read for a bit. And besides, the lighting in this room is all wrong and I didn't put on make up today.

So you will have to do with this:

I feel party.

Some Randomness

I don't really have a story for you today, just a list of random thoughts and things. I should be getting ready for work but I'm not.

Or perhaps I am getting ready for work right now, in the best way possible. Sure, my hair is a greasy mess and I probably smell like BO, but I'll feel really good for today because if all else falls through, I at least conquered part of a blank page today.

You would be surprised (or maybe not) at how far that will get me.

• My daughter started calling me "Mother Thing". I don't know where or why she has come up with this, but my response now when she refers to me as such is to say, "Yes walking talking creature who came out of my vagina, what do you want." She has stopped. Also, it occurred to me last night, when G was having a bit of a freak out, if you have a death wish, try singing "Don't Cry Out Loud" by Melissa Manchester at the top of your lungs to a extremely distraught and hormonal pre-teen girl. No I didn't do it. I love life. No death wishes here.
• My children are the type to purposefully annoy me when we are stuck in traffic and are bored. They will start to make screeching noises and ask "Are we there yet?" repeatedly. I have started what I call the "Xanadu" treatment in which I put that song on top volume and dance to it while sitting in traffic. They stopped and got the point. 
• Audiobooks are the best thing for those times that you are stuck in traffic with them. Not so much if they have a friend in the car, but if it's just you and them, it's great. We just finished  "Anansi Boys" and have started on "Four Years, Five Seasons" by Peter S. Beagle. I have 'The Last Unicorn" and "Howl's Moving Castle" ready to go as well. My ridiculously expensive Audible subscription is finally paying off.
• Have you ever heard of Peter S. Beagle? He is amazing. He wrote the book "The Last Unicorn" (everyone has seen the movie I'm sure). He is one of the best writers out there and you should check him out if at all possible. The guy saved my ass last week. I was sitting in front of my computer, feeling horribly uninspired. I was wasting time on the internet and remembered once reading about how he had trouble writing his own stories. I decided to see if he had anything worth reading to get me started. (Yeah I know, more excuses). Lo and behold, I found a pod cast called Writing Excuses. Lo and behold, there was a podcast with Peter S Beagle speaking about how to get into the writer's mindset. It really helped. (Here is the secret-you just sit down and do it. Ha!). The link to the podcast and the site is here.
• The bees are fine. No honey for me from them this year. I got a tiny bit from Anne's hive. Anne is a lovely woman in Providence who hired me to take care of her beehive. So although I have no honey, through Anne's and my friends Scott and Emily's generosity of bee donations, I have 3 healthy hives with first year queens going into the winter. Keep you finger's crossed folks! I'm going to bust my ass this winter making sure the ladies make it through.
• Last of all, my faith in humanity, always shaky best, was restored the day before yesterday as I was stopped at a stop sign, about to go down a hill. Two men were pushing a broken down minivan up the hill. It was being steered by an older woman. As I watched, a car pulled over and a third man got out and helped push it up the hill and to the side of he road. It was great to see and in the rain too. I try to hold onto those moments when I get my car keyed, or someone gets stabbed right in front of my house. I say to myself, "It's not so bad, Mr Roger's said, "Look for the helpers".

Ok off to work.

Jesus Would Have Left Me To Die

I love the Autumn portion of daylight savings.

All summer long, I have struggled to wake up before 7am so I could have my time to fart around and possibly write, before everyone else wakes up.
For some reason, I could not get out of bed before 7am, even if I went to bed at 10.

But lo and behold, I hopped right out of bed by 6:30 this morning.

Of course, I squandered the time I had and it is already a quarter past 7 and I only have about 30-40 minutes before I have to start doing things, but at the moment I consider myself to be back in training to write again.

I have barely written a blog post or a story, including any additions to my really long stories that I can't seem to finish yet. Please don't get me started on the newsletter. Joanna and I have been crazy slacking on that.

Some wonderful, little things have happened and now here I am typing at 7am. I am also in the process of creating future plans/schedules so that I can get my time in every day. I'm thinking of it a "cross-fit" for my writing muscle, which has grown very flabby.

I had a spectacular fall, in both ways.

My Fall has been a mix of extreme stress and extreme fun. I don't talk about my work here, One,  because I never want to give Human Resources a reason and Two, the nature of my work makes me want to keep it very separate from what I do outside of work.

But I will say that work had some tough moments that made me realize things..and that is all about that.

Despite work stress, I managed to do all of my favorite Fall activities so far. I picked the apples, I made the apple butter. I went to Salem with my beloved Jessica and her daughter. I somehow managed to accumulate pumpkins and the items needed to make 4 Halloween costumes just in time for the big day, as well as come up with a decent short story (well, half of one) before midnight on that day for my writer's group.

Hooray for me.

I also had a big spectacular fall last Sunday.

I was tired, it was an off day. I spent the night before having dreams of being in bed with something scary looming in the room. I kept waking myself up in dream to end the dream and tell B I had a nightmare, only I was still in the dream. I also think I did actually wake up a few times interspersed throughout, so I had terrible sleep.

I dropped the kids off at CCD. Going into the gymnasium, I stumbled over the threshold but kept my balance.

Picking the kids up an hour later,  I thought of my previous stumble and congratulated myself on being more careful as I crossed the threshold.

I tripped again, stumbled forward several feet, my torso parallel to the ground before I fell outright on my side. I want to say that I slid forward a few feet too. Even if I didn't, let's just pretend I did because it makes a better mental picture.

I got up laughing and walked over to my daughter's best friend and her mother who were laughing at me. My daughter had run off in embarrassment because she actually thought I had fallen in a room full of people on purpose. Just to embarrass her. She even punched me in the arm when she stalked back.

You have no idea how awesome it feels to know that I have gotten into her head that much. It should make the teenage years easier.

Here is the big problem I had with the whole scenario despite my laughter and the hilarity of it.

Nobody in the room even asked if I was Ok.  Nobody.

Not even the nun!

The people in the room are a bunch of Catholics. Who are in the room to set a good example for a bunch of kids that they are attempting to teach to be good Catholics.

Nobody helped, nobody even asked it I was ok.

Except for V of course. I'm telling you, that kids lives rent free with me for as long as he wants, when he grows up..

So this is a room full of people who aspire to be like Jesus Christ.

What would Jesus do?

Judging by the reaction of the people in the room, Jesus would have pretended that he didn't see me fall and would have left me to die.

Thanks Catholic people. Thanks Jesus, your folk are doing a bang up job.

I know I'm being a bit harsh, but still. I could have been really hurt. C'mon. They are supposed to be better than that. I was a little shocked.

Later in the day, I went to Salem with Jessica as I mentioned.

Here is our annual Port A John shot.

A woman fell in front of us as we walked down the sidewalk. She was laughing by the time we got there and her husband was helping her to her feet. 

I asked her if she was ok and she said she was. I told her that I fallen earlier today and nobody had asked me if I was ok. She was clearly embarrassed and it may have been better pretend not see so as to spare her the embarrassment. 

But I think that the "helping muscle" is like the "writing muscle" it needs a work out. 

It needs practice or it gets flabby. Then you do things like walk past and pretend not to see when someone falls or needs help in some way. 

The time is now 8am and there are things to do, so I have to cut this short, but as a public service announcement, if you see somebody fall today or in the near future. Just take a second and ask if they are ok. It means a lot. 

Minstrel Threat Level

When I was 17 or 18, I used to play Dungeons and Dragons a few times a week with a group of friends.

No, I had my own apartment at the time, so there was no dwelling in my parent's basement. They had a dank cellar anyways.

During one of the more memorable sessions, my friend Mike had enough gold pieces to acquire a minstrel. The purchasing of said minstrel, inspired many minstrel-related jokes. My favorite being that we needed to get the minstrel a bike. It would be a choice between aluminum or iron framed one.

A light or heavy minstrel cycle-get it?

Sadly, the minstrel was killed shortly after purchase by a tribe of Xenophobic elves that our party came across.

It was fun while it lasted, Sir Minstrel.

I was reminded of this today by my choice in tights. I had put on a pair of light grey ones as opposed to my usual black tights.
I never could figure out why light colored tights paired with black boots made me slightly uncomfortable, but it hit me as I was walking into a restaurant to meet Jessica.

"Tell me honestly," I asked, standing very straight. "Do these tights make me look like a minstrel?"

To which she replied, "Well, you do look like you could use a lute."

"I knew it!"

There were several discussions revolving around how I should mince about the restaurant as I made my way to the restroom, singing a ballad and I even had Jess take a picture of me playing air lute.

After Jessica and I parted ways, as I drove along, I remembered Mike's ill fated minstrel. Inspiration hit me.

Ok, I'm going off subject just a bit, but bear with me.

I am under the influence of a special kind of muse, (perhaps it's the 13th muse) the one that governs creative ways in which to poke fun at and embarrass your offspring.

I have a talent for it. It may sound mean, but think of it. You carry them, give birth to them, you nurse them both with your own body and then with your hands when they are sick. You spend all of your hard earned cash on plastic things and an exorbitant amount of extra food.

And for what? For them to be completely and utterly embarrassed by you, just as they start to become a little bit independent.

In addition, they tend to be very vocal about how embarrassing you are.  My kids act so embarrassed if I even open my mouth near them in public, you would think that I had crapped myself, based on their reactions.

But, instead of being hurt a bit or feeling rejected, I go with it.  For the most part, I try to use my special creativity for blackmailing purposes.

I do not threaten to take away toys or privileges. I do not hit my children. I do not put them in time out or ground them.

I tell them that I will chaperone their school dance, bring their father, and slow dance with him to every love song.

I threaten to yell "I love you, be brave!" as they walk into school. (I have followed through with this one)

I threaten to fart loudly while in public with them. (Tried that one didn't work out.)

They are good kids, fairly polite, somewhat responsible and they are good students. Must be working..

This is the one though.
I'm thinking that this is one of the last Halloween's where I can enforce the rule that they have to be accompanied by a family member.
B has to stay home to hand out candy with Lyd, so there is nobody to reign me in this year.

I'm thinking that I have to go as a minstrel. Floppy hat with the feather, big puffy sleeves and the light  colored tight and big boot combo.
I'm going to attempt to get a lute, but even a cardboard one will do.

The songs and ballad's I can sing about my lovely children as we meander down the sidewalks passing every classmate and neighbor.

I could just threaten them with this. I could give them fair warning. Each broken rule, each moment of being disrespectful could be another song about the infraction for the neighborhood's enjoyment.

"Clean your room or it's gonna be another ballad while Trick or Treating!"

Or I could just surprise them on the big night.

I'm going as a minstrel, no doubt. If I have songs or whether I sing them will depend on them.

Next year I'm going as a mime.

The Apocalypse Cometh

I am in the parking lot of my orthodontist's office after my appointment. I had my final extra heavy duty wire installed. He also added 3 more months to my sentence. 

After this wiring job I am truly thankful I went with the scrambled eggs/breakfast with dinner option for tonight. The pain should start just as I get out of work. No reprieve for the wicked and whatnot.

It's ok though. I'm used to these things after 2 years. What's 3-4 more months? 

Three to four more months. Judging by this time line, in partner with my fatalistic view on life and my overactive imagination, I am estimating that the Apolcalypse should begin sometime either just before or after Christmas. I am fairly positive that right before I am due to have these damn things removed, a world wide catastrophe of epic proportions will occur, preventing me from ever having these things taken off in a proper manner, so I may have bridges installed and then be able to chew like a normal person once again. 

Perhaps in the zombie infested, post apocalyptic desert of New England, these wires in my mouth could become some sort of weapon, placing me at the top of the food chain. I could be some sort of a warlord in my own right. 

Probably not. That's ok, in the meantime, be sure stock up on canned goods, Poland Spring and axes, because it's coming. I'm loading up on supplies then locating my orthodontist's home. When the end comes, I'm gonna guard that man, and I guess my kids, with my life. 

Orthodontists and children first!

The Fireflies Listened

My New Jersey vacation ends tomorrow, but I am content. My phone, which usually rings off the hook with work calls, has been silent. I managed to find a book that V is really enjoying (Odd and The Frost Giants, by Neil Gaiman), I still have 4 days off when I get home tomorrow AND the fireflies came out. 

I was worried. Everything is running late this year. My first night here I was sad not to see them at twilight near my in-laws house. I was sure I was going to miss them but last night at a friends house they began flickering at dusk. 

We went to the field down the street from my in laws after sunset and although there weren't as many as there are at the height of the firefly orgy, there was still enough to satisfy. We also surprised a small herd of deer, which was a bonus. Especially because they were nowhere near my own meager garden.

I took a few crappy videos that didn't come close to showing how wonderful it was. I would share it here only I'm writing from my phone and I haven't figured out how to upload video. Besides, most of you see me over on Facebook and the videos are up over there.

The June fireflies are now officially categorized under holiday magic days along with Christmas and Halloween.

So that's it for now here in the Garden State, Good Night and behave yourselves.

It's been a long time!

Hello!

It has been forever since I have been on here.

I do not blame myself and my complete lack of motivation, of course.

I blame my new job, it has been a tough transition. More hours and more responsibility, but I think I have the hang of it now.

And of course I blame the children.

What has happened with the television has happened with the computer as well. In a household of 5, there is only 1 television. 

Since I'm content to read, I simply gave up the fight and let the rest have their Mythbusters, Star Wars and sporting events. 

So now the fight has been brought to the only laptop that we have. 

As soon as I turn the thing on, a small head will pop up in front of the screen and ask, "What are you doing? Can I use it when you're done? When will you be done?"

So I gave up. 

I'm currently saving for my own computer, each week in a honey jar. 

However, that is a poor excuse for not writing. I should be doing it every day in some way. 

 I finally downloaded a Blogger app on my phone, which the hellions can't claim from me. I need it for work. 

So in between work, managing bees who aren't doing what I want them to do, fighting squirrels in defense of my new tiny garden and keeping up with the kids, you may hear from me a bit more. 

In the meantime, I am on the Jersey Shore for our traditional start of the summer vacation.

 I'm really disappointed because the late spring, with all the plants and creatures running late, means that the fireflies, who are out in the millions at my in-laws at this time, have not yet made an appearance.

If you need me, I'll be standing in my in-laws backyard, silently willing a couple of million insects to wake up already and start having sex for my entertainment. 

Noro Through the Ages

It's funny. The annual Holt family stomach bug outbreak always seems to coincide with the annual trip to the Providence Performing Art Center.

Every year for Christmas, I get tickets for Lyd and I to see a show.

Every year, right before we go, someone gets struck down with the stomach bug.

I stress and worry because I would hate to have Lyd miss out on the show and I know she would be pissed if someone else took her.

We made it to see Wicked last night.  I breathed a sigh of relief as soon as the show was over. (The assholes who came out in force to join us at the show may be a post for another day)

Bring it on Noro-virus!

It was especially hairy the year that we had a show to go to, after which, I had to drop Lyd off to her Dad's because she was flying to Hawaii the next day.

And V and G had already had the bug.

I dropped Lyd off and nearly collapsed with relief that time.

Then I went home and got sick. Lyd made it through, happily.

It used to be that I feared the stomach flu.

Anyone with really young children can relate.

The kids get sick first, you change their diapers and clean the vomit that they spew all over indiscriminately.

By the time they are feeling better, you are on the floor feeling like you are going to die, unable to move.

The kids take the opportunity to destroy the house.

I had a friend who drove down to Virginia (or somewhere else that was a really long drive) with her family, to stay with a friend's family.

Within a half hour of arrival, the friend's daughter came down with the stomach flu. My friend said, "We gotta go!" packed up her three young daughters and drove back home.

I would have done the same thing.

If you have a child under the age of 7, the stomach bug is the worst thing. To the point where anyone that has it going through their house is considered a pariah. To be avoided at all cost.

I remember a night, during that crazy snowstorm filled winter a few years back.  I spent the evening chipping away at a huge swath of ice in the driveway of the house I worked at, in preparation for a storm that was coming. I made my way home from work in the storm, an hour late because my relief came late, only to have to shovel more in order to get into my driveway.

I walked into the house, tired and glad it was all over. G was standing at the door. She informed me that she had puked "a little" in the bathroom.

It looked like a vomit bomb went off in the bathroom. B and I spent the next hour alternating between cleaning and holding the big green bowl under G's chin.

I spent the rest of the evening on bowl duty. It was definitely one of those dark nights of the soul. You cat nap on the foot of the sick child's bed. You don't want to actually share the bed because, gross. You lay listening for that first sound of retching, praying to God that you get the bowl under their chin before you have to change the fucking sheets again.

It's gotten much better. I knew things were looking up last Mother's Day. You can read about that vomiting incident here.

So far, V had it last week. The lovely boy waited until morning to start, so I got a full nights rest. He made it into the bowl every time. Because he is old enough to stick the bowl under his chin himself (I spasmed with joy as  wrote that last part. It's the little things, ya know?).

G said she felt sick last night. I suspected a school avoidance, but left the big green bowl up on her bed just in case. G sleeps high up in a loft bed. The thought of the splatter range should she puke off the side of that bed was simply terrifying, so I took that precaution.

I jumped out of bed at 3am to the sounds of her retching. Thankfully, in the toilet. I don't know if you can truly understand my happiness and feeling of triumph at this, but it certainly was a wonderful moment.

So here I am, tired from sleeping on the couch, while Gretel lay on the other end with the big green bowl. I am working on tying up any loose ends because I am assuredly the next person to take my place on the couch, with the big green bowl by my head.

Only I am a big girl, so I generally make it to the bathroom.

 I suppose I should apologize. No blog since Christmas and the one I get around to writing speaks only of my family's vomit.

But this is where I am right now, in a holding pattern, waiting to see where the virus strikes next.

Two down, three to go!

Merry Christmas!

I managed to get up early again this year.

I am sitting by the Christmas tree, which is the only light on in the house.

Dawn is just peeping up in the East, I can see it out the window if I turn my head.

I love this time of day, especially on Christmas. The kids are still young enough to believe in Santa and magic.

I am stationed here waiting for the sound from upstairs of feet hitting the floor and running down the stairs.

That for me, is the magical moment, now that I know who Santa really is.

It is very fleeting and I am thankful for it while it lasts.

I hope you all have a Merry Christmas.

If you are a person who loves this day, I hope it is a long wonderful day filled with joy and fun.

If you are a person who hates this day, I hope it is over in a flash for you and that things will be better once it is finished.

Off to buy a hive of bees from Heifer International while I wait for the pitter pat of little feet.

Merry Christmas and as always, thank you for reading my crap

Bechdel Briefs

I logged onto Facebook first thing this morning and saw a post from my friend Heather.

She said that she will no longer be able to watch a movie without checking to see if it passes the Bechdel test.

The Bechdel test, for those of you who don't know, was first introduced in a comic strip by Alison Bechdel called "Dikes to Watch Out For".

A female character said in a strip that she only watches movies if it passes 3 requirements.

1. It has 2 women in it
2. Who talk to each other
3. About something other than men.

Look it up, and my apologies if my explanation seems vague. It is 7am. I have a deadline in 10 minutes at which time, I have to wake B up and begin my very last leg of the X-mas rush.

I am so ahead of the game this year. I finished shopping on Friday.  I wrapped almost everything and I am all finished with baking.

Go Cindy.

So back to this Bechdel test.

It is very interesting. The article I read from Wikipedia also mentioned that one could also apply these rule to one's life/relationships to see if you yourself, as a woman, pass this test.

I am married with oodles of kids. I rarely talk about the opposite sex. Maybe to bitch about B, but not often.
He does Ok most of the time.

I was at a party the other night and the main topics of conversation were "Merkins" and "Vajazzle".

Looks like that party passed the Bechdel test.

You know what I talk about with other women a lot?

Whether or not our children change their underwear.

This is a perfect segway into my idea that I have been thinking about.

My magnum opus as far as embarrassing my children, which, if you read my blog, you know I love to do.

 My friend, who will remain unnamed, has a daughter who does not change her underwear.

I thought it would be so great if I went out and bought said daughter a package of "days of the week" undies for Christmas.

When she opened the package, I would explain to her, that her mother tells me that she never changes her underwear and I thought this would be a perfect gift.

Even better if V gave it to her.

But what would be best?

Arrange a "Secret Santa" party with the neighborhood parents. (most of whom have children who do not change their underwear. It is an epidemic this side of the Parkway, so I hear)

Parents will tell the kids that they will grab the gift for them.

At the party, which would be a group of 8-11 year olds of both genders. (This is VERY important as kids this age are very self conscious about certain things when the other sex is involved.)

The children would open the gifts. All which would be underwear.

All the parents would exclaim in joy and make comments in front of the kids such as, "Oh how wonderful! You never change your underwear and these are so nice! Maybe this will motivate you!"

Your children will hate you. They will probably stick you in the crappiest nursing home when it's time.

But think of those glorious seconds, watching them squirm in sheer embarrassment after the underwear goes round.

And probably totally worth it as children can be so rotten right before X-mas zero hour, that they most likely deserve whatever you can dish out.

Mine do.

It's worth it.

And there is still time...

Crappy Post

I've got to quit sugar.

Not until after Christmas of course.

Probably never. I love that shit.

It does make me horrifically silly and I say things sometimes that I find funny, but other people do not.

G got mad at me last night. Enraged is more like it.

I blame cupcake #4.

When G gets really mad, she giggles as she tries to kick your ass.

I told her last night that sometimes, when a woman gives birth, they poop a little as they push the baby out.

I told her that I had a full breakfast and a chicken salad sandwich for lunch while I was in labor with her.

So odds are, I probably crapped on her head as she came out.

Only the nurses will ever know and I'm sure they are not telling.

Yeah, G didn't take that well at all.

I blame the cupcakes.

Sunday Blues

Day of rest, my ass.

Sundays are the only day that all of us are home together.

It's also the one that drives me totally ragged. Just after coming off a 16 hour shift the day before as well.

It's a day of grocery shopping, ice skating lessons and whatever horrors that the family can cook up for me to do.

Speaking of cooking-it's Sunday dinner too?

I want to know the asshole who thought of that bright idea.

(me)

I was doing Ok, my only big plan aside from the Sunday basics, was to take the kids to the Holiday Flea market.

Horst then comes up with the paper, even before I am finished with my first cup of coffee, to ask that I take him shopping for Christmas.

Just a few hours ago, while at work, I had a person I worked with slowly and loudly eating a banana next to me.

And I really couldn't tell them to knock it off. Professionalism and all.

It was almost enough to make me jump out the second story window.

This might be the one that puts me over the edge. especially if Horst insists on the bulky packages.

However I do have a plan.

Bring him to UPS and sit in the fucking car while he ships it.

Ok, I would love to stay and write more about the tortures and torments of Sunday family day, but I just  looked at the clock and it's time to go.

Best get this over with..Pray for me.

Call Me Dr Zaius

So Thanksgiving is done. NaNoWriMo is done. December is here.

Thanksgiving Eve marks the return of Steve, the homicidal and perverted Christmas Elf. Steve likes to carry knives.

He also enjoys hanging around the bathroom, giving everyone stage fright with his cheerful, vacant grin. Von speculated last year that Steve and the tooth fairy engaged in some casual sex as well. Here's the old post- 

We found him yesterday hanging around here-

It's kind of a pain in the ass. I always forget to move him. I end up remembering when the kids are already awake, so I either have to smuggle the elf somewhere else, under my shirt or I have to call attention to the fact that he did not move and declare him to be a "complete lazy fuck".

But I'm not here today to tell you of my elf problems. I'm here to talk about my outfit. Actually, my favorite sweater. 

Guess what? B hates that too. Bag, water bottle..it never ends.

I put my favorite sweater, which is actually more of a short sleeved sweater tunic, on when we were getting ready to go see a friend and his family on the day after Thanksgiving. 

B exclaimed from the bed, "What the hell are you wearing! You look like someone from The Planet of the Apes!" 

I explained that I was cold as well as, lacking in cardigans because my other ones had all worn out. 

B was understanding of my predicament, but stated he would not allow me to go to his friends house dressed like Dr Zeus. 

I took the sweater off and promised him that I would dress more like his mother next time. (It's not directed at you, P, I love your style-all the barbs are directed towards your son, as always)

Here is me

I don't know if I see much of a resemblance

I will admit, I was secretly delighted. You see, my friend Heather was told recently, that her outfit looked "old school Star Trek" and I was a bit jealous. 

No reason to be now. 

 I wonder if people think that there is a Comic Con in town whenever Heather and I go out togther. 

(BTW-Heather has an awesome new blog called "It's Your Mirror" over there on my blog list. Go read it.) 

In the end, I wore a shawl out that day.  But, as with everything B dislikes of mine, his disapproval has kindled a deep love in my heart for the Dr Zaius sweater. 

Perhaps it will motivate him to get me some kick ass cardigans for Christmas. 

The only drawback is, whenever I put the Dr Zaius on, that Simpson's song plays in my head all day.

I guess it's a small price to pay to look so awesome.

Happy Thanksgiving

In regards to my previous post about having to go see that stupid Planes movie. I want you all to know, in the spirit of full disclosure (and also because one of my friends pointed out that by not going to that movie I was lying to everyone who reads my blog.), I didn't have to go see it! It was great, we went to see the later movie and skipped that one. I did not spend that extra time watching a monkey masturbate either. 

Happy Thanksgiving!

I thought that you all would be a bit tired of turkeys by now, so I'm going to celebrate with a picture of a turkey vulture, enjoying his own Thanksgiving day feast.

I think he looks very thankful for that random carcass.

I had plans to do this thing that I found on Pinterest. You cut leaf shapes out of colorful construction paper and every day you write on one of the leaves something you are thankful for. Then you hang it up on a strinng on the wall.

It looked really nice.

I didn't do it.

There were a lot of people who would post what they were thankful for on their Facebook page. One a day for thirty days.

I liked that idea, but never got around to it.

For November, like I've said before a million times, I've been trying to write a novel in a month.

I have not yet reached 50K, but I've passed 30K and I am pretty proud of that.

I'm going to go write a bit more before everyone else wakes and turkey mayhem begins, but before I go, here are my 30 things that I am currently thankful for.

1. B, of course. I am pretty damn lucky. We still have a lot of things to say to each other (not swears) after almost 15 years and, I can't think of a better person to stand strong with me against the evil tyranny of the children.
2. I am thankful for the children. They are royal pains in the ass, but they really make me laughand I adore them.
3. I am thankful for plumbing and proper sewer lines that take waste away from my home. (No joke, we all should be thankful for that)
4. I am thankful for clean water
5. I am thankful that I am the only early riser in a houseful of late sleepers. I love having the early mornings to myself.
6. I am thankful for the way things work out sometimes. For instance, I'm actually thankful for that whole beehive vandalism incident back in May, where I ended up having to move my hives. Turns out, I would have had to move them anyways in the end. If that whole thing had not happened, it may have been a frantic move later in the season. A lot of good things came from my hive being vandalized. It's funny how things work out.
7. I am thankful for social media. It allows me to keep in touch with old friends that I would not have kept in touch with otherwise. It also gives me the opportunity to entertain you all and I really like that.
8. I am thankful for opportunities to make people laugh
9. I am thankful for opportunities to help people. I know it sounds hokey, but it's true.
10. I am thankful for my job, which pays the bills and gives me the time to raise my kids the way I want to, as well as engage in the million of other things I do. Especially write.
11. I am thankful for the stories that have been kicking around my head. I'm never bored because of them.
12. I'm thankful for the opportunity to be able to practice getting those stories out of my head and onto paper. It's grueling and difficult I tell you, but I love it.
13. I am thankful for Zovirax antiviral cream. My cold sore was, honestly, the size of a man's big toe. I suspected it was actually my absorbed twin, trying to break free in order to kill us all. It looks much better now. Pinkie toe sized
14. I am thankful for elderberry syrup
15. I am thankful as you all are I am sure, for the fact that I just decide to finish at 16 because I am tired of writing what I am thankful for.
16. I am thankful for the wonderful group of people in my life, they are truly the best of all. Thanks guys.


A wise friend once told me that Thanksgiving is her favorite holiday, because it doesn't involve presents or costumes. I couldn't agree more.

I'm off to write and then cook for just the people in my house. This is great because there is no pressure to clean and make everything look nice.  Everyone gets paper towels for napkins.

Then, we all go to the movies. We're going to see the new Hunger Games movie. And here is another thing I am thankful for

17. I am thankful that the kids are older, which means that we don't have to see stupid kid movies for our annual family Thanksgiving movie night. Nothing says family like flaming corpses and ritual government endorsed murder, right?

Happy Thanksgiving!!

A Wild Friday Night

I just looked and saw that  I have not posted since the first of this month.

Dang.

I'm busy with life things and also participating in NaNoWriMo. Did I mention that?

Probably.

I am actually on here stalling instead of writing what I am supposed to be writing.

I need to get off my ass, today is a short day at the kids school. Tonight, I get to bring the kids back to school for "Family Movie Night"

Because we want decent seating, we have to go and watch the first movie as well as the second.

They are playing Disney's "Planes" at 5, followed by "Monsters University" at 7.

I'm Ok with "Monster's University" I saw "Monster's Inc." and it was Ok, not bad.

But "Planes".

 God help me.

I can honestly say without shame or hesitation, that I would prefer to sit quietly and watch a chimpanzee masturbate for two hours than sit through that fucking movie.

And yet, off I will go, to get that good seating.

The things I do for those damn children.

October Re-Cap

I cab't say that I am really glad that October is finally over, but I kind of am.

I got it all done.

We went o Salem at the beginning of the month. Salem is where we learned, thanks to the government shutting down, that a Port O John can be a free, instant mood lifter for any group of children you may be traveling with.

The public restroom were closed in the visitors center, but the city of Salem kindly provided these San O Cans.

We had the kids take a peek in there and it was uphill for the rest of the time

I wish I had captured the screams of disgust and laughter but this will have to do.

We visited Burial Point and did part of a cemetery tour that I had in a book of historic burial grounds..

The kids got bored quick. A cemetery is no Port O John after all..

Cute Little Buggers...

I managed to pick apples and pumpkins earlier this week. I also was able to take a few shot of one of my favorite places to look at in the Fall. 

Lucky for me it's right down the street from my house.

I love the way the light turns red because of the leaves.

On Halloween day, I let the kids play hooky from school. We went out to the bookstore and went to the coffee shop for treats. 

After that, in true "Mommy sweatshop" style, I chained myself to the table and finished sewing costumes and then carved 6 pumpkins. 

We had fun, but the kids were so amped up on holiday anticipation and candy, that they would not stop talking in loud outside voices all day. 

I am considering the idea of making absolute sure that I am finished with all Halloween pumpkin and costume tasks BEFORE the big day. Then I can spend Halloween day in quiet meditation so I may build my strength up for the evenings activities. 

Right around 4, it started to drizzle. The kids began to worry that they couldn't go Trick Or Treating.

I told them to have some faith. Halloween Magic would come through for us. 

Evidently it did!

I felt so elegant when my MuMu flowed in the breeze..

Water Bottle

B hates all of my favorite things.

He hates my big leather messenger bag (he was the one who bought it for me) claiming that it bent the coat hook I hung it on every day.

He hates the insulated water bottle I take with me to work. I always leave it overnight so I have cold water to take my pill with.

I know, it's just as easy to fill a glass but no..it's not.

He is a very meticulous man who has a place for everything. He is the anti-hoarder.

It is a good thing because I was on my way to being on that show when we met.

B taught me the wonder of empty space.

He hates that I leave my things in a different place each time.

I try to explain that every item I have has more than one special place, and part of the fun is trying to remember which special place I chose this time.

I also say a good place to put things is up his ass.

Sunday evening he went on another "complain about the damn water bottle again"

It's a very nice water bottle from Kleen Kanteen. It keeps ice from melting for hours.

I told him that I figured out exactly what I will do with his body after he dies.

I told him he will be creamated. His ashes interred in that very same water bottle.

I will then leave it in a different spot every day and forget which spot.

I love that guy.

Anniversary!

11 years ago today..

To celebrate our wedding anniversary I will be doing the following:

I'm going to take all of the regular music off B's Ipod and load it with all manner of love songs from the 80's and a few from the 70's.

Songs from the Soundtrack to Xanadu, REO Speedwagon, Asia, and ABBA, will figure prominently, as well as a number of other hits.

B will be so surprised when he gets in the car today and finds out what I have done.

It's even better because he has no idea how to work an Ipod.

I will go to work for 16 hours and leave him with the kids. He will have to take them to a Harvest festival and drop G off at a sleepover.

Tomorrow, we will go to a banquet for the RI Beekeepers, where B gets to listen to people drone on and on (get it? DRONE on..ha) about all manner of bee related things.

I have a scoring system in regards to B. It will decide in years ahead, who will change B's diapers when he needs them.

It's either me, his loving wife, in the privacy of our lovely home. Or Barry, the surly orderly with chapped hands, over at the nursing care facility.

At the moment, it's looking pretty good for him.

So far.

I'm Still Not 40

Hi gang..

It's been awhile I know..

First it was my back, then it was a cold and last of all, a weekend of bad eating caught up with me Montezuma-style.

But here I am, popping in for a moment.

I have this plan where I get my house in order over the next week, then dedicate my October to finishing my "Really Long Story" and making Halloween costumes.

After that, I will be in fighting shape for National Novel Writing Month.

Oh yeah, and I have to make apple butter, finish my nephew's birthday quilt (his birthday was in May) and make sauerkraut.

And run a household, raise them damn kids, and that newsletter that I like to send out (don't forget to sign up- Random Shit and Meditations for The Mildly Irreverent)

I can do it. Maybe.

One of the big reasons why I have been so desperate to get on here lately, although life keeps getting in the way, is because I looked at the calendar and just had to point something out to a lot of people.

Growing up and being the youngest in a large group of friends can be very difficult at times.

I was the last to turn 16, which meant I had to scramble for fake ID's whenever we wanted to go to a punk rock show in NYC.

Getting a boyfriend was hell, being jailbait for what seemed like forever.

I was the last to turn 21, which meant sneaking into bars. Thankfully the place I grew up in had a lot of all ages shows.

Everyone was solidly in or just getting out of puberty, so my "budding breasts" where often pointed out.

Yep, they called me "Bud"..

I could go on for a long time about how much being the youngest sucked.

But here I am, finally reaping the benefits of being the youngest of you all.

Because I'm still not yet 40..In six months I will be, but then, I will still be farther away from 50 than the rest of you!

Ok that felt good! I've been waiting for years for that... I know pathetic, but when you are the youngest,  you treasure these opportunities.

Ok, back to my hot water bottle, my arthritis is acting up..

Notes From The Can

I went to use the bathroom and took my laptop with me.

I was in the middle of a conversation.

Realizing the time, I had to quickly finish (sorry..gross..I know) and smuggle the computer back downstairs without B noticing.

He was still in bed but has flashes on consciousness at this time.

I don't know what would be worse,

the fact that I was using the computer on the can

or the explanation that I was in the middle of a very important conversation with my best friend and her daughter.

About public masturbation in Sweden and the notorious Swedish bicycle fucker who is on the loose.

Luckily I was as sneaky as that wacky Swede and made it out and back downstairs with B none the wiser..

Ok. That's my story. Thanks