Wednesday, December 02, 2009

A family that pukes together stays together.

Hi, everyone. I haven't felt much like blogging these days. It's one part illness, one part shitty economy and two parts delicious little boy who takes up much of my time when I'm home. I'm not sure how much longer I'll have these 2.5 days at home with him each week, so I'm trying to make the most of them.

On the other hand, I could end up being home every day of the week. Who knows.

But what I do know is that once I get online, time starts sliding by and suddenly the twenty minute limit I've set for myself has turned into an hour and a half. And my blinds are too damn dusty/my bedroom is too damn messy/ my sink it too damn full of dirty dishes to be spending that much time online.

My toilets, on the other hand, are sparkling clean at the moment. Come quick!

Those of you who are Facebook friends saw that we we've been dealing with various illnesses for a while now. First Lion was sick with some kind of upper respiratory infection. Then I got a stomach bug (am I the only one who can't help but calculate how long it's been since I last vomited, even as I'm hanging over the toilet bowl? Me: Wow, I haven't thrown up since I was in labor, so it's been approximately one year, two months, three weeks, and six days. Stomach: you're way overdue, bitch. TAKE THAT!), and Mike came down with the same thing. Thank god his mom doesn't live far away and isn't afraid of a little puke, because I was so weak I couldn't even think about Lion without feeling dizzy.

Tired and weak but on a nearly 48-hour no-puking streak, we disinfected the house just in time for my parents, my grandmother, and my sister to arrive a few days before Thanksgiving. They were the only house guests, but we had 14 people for dinner. It went swimmingly.

But that night, disaster struck again. First my sister started throwing up, followed by my father, and then most regrettably of all, my mom. My mom has some health conditions that make it very dangerous for her to be throwing up, and I ended up having to speed her to the ER early Friday morning. On the way to the hospital, the sun not even a hint in the sky yet, I was amazed by all the traffic. Then I realized it was Black Friday.


So we spent the rest of our days restocking the ginger ale supply and cleaning toilets and using Lysol disinfecting wipes on every surface imaginable. The silver lining is that no one else who was at my house for Thanksgiving dinner got sick, including my 90-something grandmother and my 14-month-old son.

So I'm sure you can understand that I'm a little tired. I'm fine, just considerably rumpled in spirit (to quote Anne of Green Gables) (I think).

More soon.

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Thursday, November 05, 2009

I can't argue with that.

Me: I bought a new song on iTunes today.

Mike: Which one?

Me: That Las Vegas song.

Mike: Dean Martin?

Me: No, it's a new one. It's something like, that's what you get for waking up in Vegas...

Mike: (laughs) Are you supposed to throw your arms around while singing it?

Me: I'm waking up, see? Stretching. But in Vegas, so I'm also wearing a feathered boa.

Mike: Are you sure they wear feathered boas in Vegas?

Me: I think they do.

Mike: I've never heard that song.

Me: Here, I'll play it for you.

Mike: (listens for a minute, trying not to roll his eyes) That's Katy Perry. The same one who sings that song about I kissed a girl and I think I liked it.

Me: Oh, really? Well, I like it! It'll be a good song for jogging.

Mike: This is like when you were obsessed with that Avril Lavigne song.

Me: Only for exercising. It was peppy.

Mike: Do you hear what she's singing about?

Me: Las Vegas.

Mike: Yes. And she lost her fake ID, and she's wearing some guy's class ring.

Me: You're saying I'm too old to listen to angst-ridden songs involving fake IDs and class rings?

Mike: You said it, not me.

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Tuesday, November 03, 2009


All I have to say is this:

I am so fucking glad this fucking election is OVER. If I get one more fucking political call at my fucking house, I will fucking* lose it.

(*sorry, mom)

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Tuesday, October 20, 2009

And now we shall mourn.

Don't let me near your children, for these days I seem to ruin everything I touch.

Exhibit A, also known as Oatmeal Cookies That I Have Made At Least 500 Times, So How Do You Explain This?:
Flat. as. pancakes. Super crispy. Which isn't a terrible thing, if you like super crispy cookies, but I like my oatmeal cookies chewy. I'm thinking I may have accidentally put too much butter in (which Paula Deen would probably say is impossible, unless you add so much butter that there's no room for the bacon, in which case you should probably watch a different show on Food Network).
I feel reasonably confident that I can blame these cooking mishaps on Lion, since getting interrupted fifty times while measuring your ingredients can only lead to disaster.
I know I put the flour in, I have been extremely careful to remember the flour after an unfortunate incident several months ago when I made four loaves of flourless banana bread.
Flourless chocolate cake is so delicious, but flourless banana bread?
Not so much.

These horrible pictures do not adequately portray how flat these cookies were. But don't worry- I have some amazing close-up pictures of cow dung on the heel of my shoe!

Recently we attended an outdoor wedding. I loved the setting, truly I did. It was on a big farm, and the ceremony took place at the edge of a vividly green, rolling field, where you could see cows grazing in the distance.
(they'll come into play later)
The bride and her father came across the field in a horse-drawn carriage. Gorgeous.
I wore a brown and white print dress. I'd say it was an animal print, but then you'd probaby want to know what kind of animal print, and I don't know.
Leopard? Cheetah? Spotted pig?

As a side note, I felt positively gleeful as I dressed for this wedding. During my pregnancy with Lion, and during the months and months of nursing that followed, all of my beloved little dresses and most of my non-stretchy shirts were banished to the guest room closet, also known as The Land of Abandoned Clothes.
Reunited, and it feels so good.

Exhibit B, or The Shoes I Was Stubborn and Foolish Enough to Wear, And So I Deserve Every Bit of Heartache:

I paired the dress with these little heels, which I love, mostly because of the little sparkly buckles on the straps:
They look fantastic in candlelight.
Anyhow! I knew the wedding was going to be outdoors, but I thought the most I'd have to worry about would be my heels sinking into the grass. I decided that I would just walk on my toes, as millions of women have done before me.
However. I did not know that we would have to park at the top of hill, and then walk nearly a quarter of a mile down a (sometimes steep) gravel road to the ceremony site. I should have just worn flip flops, pulsed the heels in my food processor a few times, and saved myself some work.


The bit of green? Is cow dung. I narrowly sidestepped a massive pile of horse poop and was mentally congratulating myself when my heel speared a cow patty.
That was lucky, I suppose. Had my whole foot landed on it, I can only imagine the unladylike slipping and falling that would have followed.

So, a question: could I take these to be repaired? I have no experience with shoe repair. Is it only for Good Shoes, or are these worthy? They're nothing special, just Chinese Laundry, but I do like them and would like to keep them around.
Don't worry; I'd clean them first.

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Monday, October 12, 2009


Dear God,

I really think my son has enough teeth now. I'm not claiming to know better than you, but I am his mother and I would appreciate your hearing me out.

It seems it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a tooth to break through the gums of my son. (I'm not trying to rip off Matthew, but the camel bit is perfect for this situation and I thought it would help present my difficulties in a way that you would understand, Lord. Not that you don't understand things.)

(of course you do.)

Since there are so many other issues deserving of your attention- wars and health care and Britney Spears, perhaps?- please don't worry about sending any more teeth. The dozen or so that have already broken through are doing the job quite nicely.

In exchange for putting a stop to the constant, torturous arrival of teeth in my son's mouth, my husband is prepared to give up peanut butter. If you know him, and I think you do (9 a.m. mass every Sunday- holla!), you know the magnitude of this sacrifice.

Not that you don't know great sacrifice. I mean, obviously.

For my part, I am prepared to give up impure thoughts of Colin Firth.

We are all very, very tired and appreciate your consideration of our proposal.

Of course, from what I hear, you are all-knowing and this entire exercise was probably unecessary. As is my signature. But I simply cannot leave a letter without a proper closing and signature.

Which you already know.



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Tuesday, October 06, 2009

It certainly does suck.

Our vacuum up and died. To be specific, a large plastic thingy on the bottom of the vacuum broke in two, a plastic thingy that looks awfully important, and I don't think Super Glue will be able to save me this time.

Is there anything more annoying than shopping for than a new vacuum? I say this as someone who's shopping under the glare of a very strict budget. If I had hundreds of dollars at my disposal I'd probably have fun shopping for a vacuum, and I'd buy a Miele simply because I like the way they look and the different models have names like "Salsa" and "Twist" and "Jazz". I like jazz! And salsa. And it's been quite a while since I've played Twister, but yes, I like that, too. Those names make me feel like vacuuming my house will be exciting, possibly even hot.

Yes, I would run out and buy a Miele without first studying all available consumer research and reviews, so you know I must be drunk or high. Or both.

I want a pretty, sleek vacuum. I want a S 7580 Tango Deluxe in Titian Red Metallic.

Instead, I bought a Bissell 82H1 Cleanview Helix Bagless Upright. In... er... Plastic Hearse Black.

Somehow it doesn't have the same zing.

However. It was $75 on sale, it got good reviews, and it has a Turbo Brush attachment that I can use on the stairs, so I can avoid teaching my son all the best four-letter words as I struggle to move that beast across every one of the five hundred steps in my house.

This is my first experience with a bagless vacuum. Instead of a disposable bag, this has a clear plastic cup that catches all the dirt. I know! All these new-fangled inventions! Next I'll tell you about this amazing invention called... what was it... Blackberry? It's like a telegraph and a digital slate all rolled into one OMG.

The first few swipes of our living room area rug captured quite a lot of gray, fuzzy matter. Watching that cup fill up is both satisfying and disturbing. Do I want to know exactly what's in my rug?

Oh, god. I do not.

For those of you about to embark on a vacuum odyssey of your own, I'll leave you with this tip: people who review vacuum cleaners on sites like Amazon love to give their reviews titles like, "IT SUCKS!" and "THIS IS THE SUCKIEST VACUUM EVER!".

For a while, I couldn't for the life of me figure out why these people were giving four and five-star ratings for vaccums that they clearly hated.

Yes, I'm slow. And it's been far too long since I've seen Wayne's World.

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Sunday, October 04, 2009


Liz: I'm so tired.

Mike: Maybe you should just tell me when you're not tired.

Liz: That would save me some time, wouldn't it?

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