Have I ever told you how much I adore this show?? This morning I was particularly amused to find "Law & Order: Special Letters Unit" and any self respecting Law & Order fan will appreciate this:
Muahahahaha
Monday, July 09, 2007
What's my age again?
Since it's officially hot as balls here our morning routine of playing outside has been cancelled in lieu of sitting in the air conditioning and watching Sesame Street.
Have I ever told you how much I adore this show?? This morning I was particularly amused to find "Law & Order: Special Letters Unit" and any self respecting Law & Order fan will appreciate this:
Muahahahaha
Have I ever told you how much I adore this show?? This morning I was particularly amused to find "Law & Order: Special Letters Unit" and any self respecting Law & Order fan will appreciate this:
Muahahahaha
Monday, June 25, 2007
The face of sick
Cecilia had been feeling like crap the past few days, when her fever spiked to 105, we brought her to the ER. They ran a bunch of tests, and admitted her last night. Her white cell count is really high, and her fever is fluctuating. They have her on a broad antibiotic, and a bag of fluids. No one seems to know what's wrong with her, they think it's a bacterial infection of some sort.
Keep her in your thoughts, guys. She's so little and sad.
Keep her in your thoughts, guys. She's so little and sad.
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
Thou Shalt Not Flip the Bird
Vatican issues 10 Commandments for drivers
VATICAN CITY (AP) -- Got road rage? The Vatican on Tuesday issued a set of "Ten Commandments" for drivers, telling motorists to be charitable to others on the highways, to refrain from drinking and driving, and to pray you make it before you even buckle up.
An unusual document from the Vatican's office for migrants and itinerant people also warned that automobiles can be "an occasion of sin" -- particularly when they are used for dangerous passing or for prostitution.
It warned about the effects of road rage, saying driving can bring out "primitive" behavior in motorists, including "impoliteness, rude gestures, cursing, blasphemy, loss of sense of responsibility or deliberate infringement of the highway code."
It urged motorists to obey traffic regulations, drive with a moral sense, and to pray when behind the wheel.
Cardinal Renato Martino, who heads the office, told a news conference that the Vatican felt it necessary to address the pastoral needs of motorists because driving had become such a big part of contemporary life.
He noted that the Bible was full of people on the move, including Mary and Joseph, the parents of Jesus -- and that his office is tasked with dealing with all "itinerant" people -- from refugees to prostitutes, truck drivers to the homeless.
"We know that as a consequence of transgressions and negligence, 1.2 million people die each year on the roads," Martino said. "That's a sad reality, and at the same time, a great challenge for society and the church."
The document, "Guidelines for the Pastoral Care of the Road," extols the benefits of driving -- family outings, getting the sick to the hospital, allowing people to see other cultures.
But it laments a host of ills associated with automobiles: Drivers use their cars to show off; driving "provides an easy opportunity to dominate others" by speeding; drivers can kill themselves and others if they don't get their cars regular tuneups, if they drink, use drugs or fall asleep at the wheel.
It also pointed the finger at traffic problems particular to Rome, including "minicars" that teens can drive without full driving licenses, and "the reckless use of motorbikes and motorcycles."
It called for drivers to obey speed limits and to exercise a host of Christian virtues: charity to fellow drivers, prudence on the roads, hope of arriving safely and justice in the event of crashes.
And it suggested prayer might come in handy -- performing the sign of the cross before starting off and saying the Rosary along the way. The Rosary was particularly well suited to recitation by all in the car since its "rhythm and gentle repetition does not distract the driver's attention."
The document is intended for bishops conferences around the world, and as such offered recommendations for their pastoral workers, including setting up chapels along motorways and having "periodic celebration of liturgies at major road hubs, motorway restaurants and lorry parks."
'Drivers' Ten Commandments'
The "Drivers' Ten Commandments," as listed by the document, are:
1. You shall not kill.
2. The road shall be for you a means of communion between people and not of mortal harm.
3. Courtesy, uprightness and prudence will help you deal with unforeseen events.
4. Be charitable and help your neighbor in need, especially victims of accidents.
5. Cars shall not be for you an expression of power and domination, and an occasion of sin.
6. Charitably convince the young and not so young not to drive when they are not in a fitting condition to do so.
7. Support the families of accident victims.
8. Bring guilty motorists and their victims together, at the appropriate time, so that they can undergo the liberating experience of forgiveness.
9. On the road, protect the more vulnerable party.
10. Feel responsible toward others.
************************************
Does the catholic church have nothing better to do with their time than sit around and brainstorm ANOTHER set of commandments? And seriously, isn't that kind of like blasphemy? I bet god is pissed like whoa.
VATICAN CITY (AP) -- Got road rage? The Vatican on Tuesday issued a set of "Ten Commandments" for drivers, telling motorists to be charitable to others on the highways, to refrain from drinking and driving, and to pray you make it before you even buckle up.
An unusual document from the Vatican's office for migrants and itinerant people also warned that automobiles can be "an occasion of sin" -- particularly when they are used for dangerous passing or for prostitution.
It warned about the effects of road rage, saying driving can bring out "primitive" behavior in motorists, including "impoliteness, rude gestures, cursing, blasphemy, loss of sense of responsibility or deliberate infringement of the highway code."
It urged motorists to obey traffic regulations, drive with a moral sense, and to pray when behind the wheel.
Cardinal Renato Martino, who heads the office, told a news conference that the Vatican felt it necessary to address the pastoral needs of motorists because driving had become such a big part of contemporary life.
He noted that the Bible was full of people on the move, including Mary and Joseph, the parents of Jesus -- and that his office is tasked with dealing with all "itinerant" people -- from refugees to prostitutes, truck drivers to the homeless.
"We know that as a consequence of transgressions and negligence, 1.2 million people die each year on the roads," Martino said. "That's a sad reality, and at the same time, a great challenge for society and the church."
The document, "Guidelines for the Pastoral Care of the Road," extols the benefits of driving -- family outings, getting the sick to the hospital, allowing people to see other cultures.
But it laments a host of ills associated with automobiles: Drivers use their cars to show off; driving "provides an easy opportunity to dominate others" by speeding; drivers can kill themselves and others if they don't get their cars regular tuneups, if they drink, use drugs or fall asleep at the wheel.
It also pointed the finger at traffic problems particular to Rome, including "minicars" that teens can drive without full driving licenses, and "the reckless use of motorbikes and motorcycles."
It called for drivers to obey speed limits and to exercise a host of Christian virtues: charity to fellow drivers, prudence on the roads, hope of arriving safely and justice in the event of crashes.
And it suggested prayer might come in handy -- performing the sign of the cross before starting off and saying the Rosary along the way. The Rosary was particularly well suited to recitation by all in the car since its "rhythm and gentle repetition does not distract the driver's attention."
The document is intended for bishops conferences around the world, and as such offered recommendations for their pastoral workers, including setting up chapels along motorways and having "periodic celebration of liturgies at major road hubs, motorway restaurants and lorry parks."
'Drivers' Ten Commandments'
The "Drivers' Ten Commandments," as listed by the document, are:
1. You shall not kill.
2. The road shall be for you a means of communion between people and not of mortal harm.
3. Courtesy, uprightness and prudence will help you deal with unforeseen events.
4. Be charitable and help your neighbor in need, especially victims of accidents.
5. Cars shall not be for you an expression of power and domination, and an occasion of sin.
6. Charitably convince the young and not so young not to drive when they are not in a fitting condition to do so.
7. Support the families of accident victims.
8. Bring guilty motorists and their victims together, at the appropriate time, so that they can undergo the liberating experience of forgiveness.
9. On the road, protect the more vulnerable party.
10. Feel responsible toward others.
************************************
Does the catholic church have nothing better to do with their time than sit around and brainstorm ANOTHER set of commandments? And seriously, isn't that kind of like blasphemy? I bet god is pissed like whoa.
Thursday, June 14, 2007
Thursday, May 24, 2007
Be A Superhero!!!***
***Some restrictions apply
Drug Agency Reaffirms Ban on Gay Men Giving Blood
WASHINGTON, May 23 (AP) — Gay men remain barred from donating blood, the government said Wednesday, leaving in place a 1983 prohibition meant to prevent the spread of H.I.V. through transfusions.
The Food and Drug Administration reaffirmed the policy on its Web site on Wednesday, more than a year after the Red Cross and two other blood groups criticized the ban as “medically and scientifically unwarranted.”
“I am disappointed, I must confess,” said Dr. Celso Bianco, executive vice president of America’s Blood Centers, whose members provide nearly half the nation’s blood supply.
Before giving blood, all men are asked if they have had sex, even once, with another man since 1977, when the AIDS epidemic began in the United States, according to the drug agency. Those who say they have are barred from donating. The drug agency says those men are at increased risk of infection by H.I.V., which can be transmitted by blood transfusion. Anyone who has used intravenous drugs or been paid for sex is also permanently barred from donating blood.
In March 2006, the Red Cross, the international blood association AABB and America’s Blood Centers proposed replacing the lifetime ban with a one-year deferral after male-to-male sexual contact. New and improved tests, which can detect H.I.V.-positive donors within 10 to 21 days of infection, make the lifetime ban unnecessary, the blood groups told the F.D.A.
In a document posted Wednesday, the drug agency said it would change its policy if it received data proving that doing so would not pose a “significant and preventable” risk to blood recipients.
The agency said the H.I.V. tests now in use were highly accurate, but still could not detect the virus 100 percent of the time. The estimated H.I.V. risk from a unit of blood is about one per two million in the United States, according to the agency.
Critics of the exclusionary policy say it bars potential healthy donors, despite the increasing need for donated blood, and discriminates against gay men. The F.D.A. acknowledges that the restriction means many healthy donors cannot give blood, but rejected the suggestion that the policy was discriminatory.
_______________________________________________
What a crock of shit this is. Send the FDA a strongly worded email telling them what bigoted assholes they are. I did :)
Drug Agency Reaffirms Ban on Gay Men Giving Blood
WASHINGTON, May 23 (AP) — Gay men remain barred from donating blood, the government said Wednesday, leaving in place a 1983 prohibition meant to prevent the spread of H.I.V. through transfusions.
The Food and Drug Administration reaffirmed the policy on its Web site on Wednesday, more than a year after the Red Cross and two other blood groups criticized the ban as “medically and scientifically unwarranted.”
“I am disappointed, I must confess,” said Dr. Celso Bianco, executive vice president of America’s Blood Centers, whose members provide nearly half the nation’s blood supply.
Before giving blood, all men are asked if they have had sex, even once, with another man since 1977, when the AIDS epidemic began in the United States, according to the drug agency. Those who say they have are barred from donating. The drug agency says those men are at increased risk of infection by H.I.V., which can be transmitted by blood transfusion. Anyone who has used intravenous drugs or been paid for sex is also permanently barred from donating blood.
In March 2006, the Red Cross, the international blood association AABB and America’s Blood Centers proposed replacing the lifetime ban with a one-year deferral after male-to-male sexual contact. New and improved tests, which can detect H.I.V.-positive donors within 10 to 21 days of infection, make the lifetime ban unnecessary, the blood groups told the F.D.A.
In a document posted Wednesday, the drug agency said it would change its policy if it received data proving that doing so would not pose a “significant and preventable” risk to blood recipients.
The agency said the H.I.V. tests now in use were highly accurate, but still could not detect the virus 100 percent of the time. The estimated H.I.V. risk from a unit of blood is about one per two million in the United States, according to the agency.
Critics of the exclusionary policy say it bars potential healthy donors, despite the increasing need for donated blood, and discriminates against gay men. The F.D.A. acknowledges that the restriction means many healthy donors cannot give blood, but rejected the suggestion that the policy was discriminatory.
_______________________________________________
What a crock of shit this is. Send the FDA a strongly worded email telling them what bigoted assholes they are. I did :)
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
Friday, May 11, 2007
Tuesday, May 08, 2007
Friday, May 04, 2007
She had two hairs upon her head, one was black and the other was red
My daughter was born with a massive amount of silky hair. I imagined all the bows, ribbons, barrettes and decorations I could bestowe upon her tresses. Ahhh, I love having a girl.
But then all her hair fell out before she was a month old. I never got the chance to use so much as a headband.
Until today!
"Um, mom. For real. This palmtree-looking-thing on my head has GOT to go. It's like, so 1987"
But then all her hair fell out before she was a month old. I never got the chance to use so much as a headband.
Until today!
"Um, mom. For real. This palmtree-looking-thing on my head has GOT to go. It's like, so 1987"
Wednesday, May 02, 2007
But what is the other 12%
| You Are 88% Democrat |
 You are a card carrying Democrat, and a pretty far left one at that! There's no chance anyone would ever mistake you for a Republican. |
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
But Wesley, what about the ROUS's?
Our backyard cascades into what we (semi)lovingly refer to as "the fire swamp." If you've ever been to my house, you'll know what I'm talking about. Large, knotted trees, intertwined with vines several inches thick. Dense, green, damp underbrush crowds every square inch of useable space. I have ventured through the entire area, but I'm pretty sure there's lightening sand somewhere over by the Pitts' house, all of this glory is cut in the middle by a stream. Placid.
There is also no shortage of wildlife in the fireswamp. Poisonous snakes, bats, more bats, toads, more toads, and a family of foxes (foxes? Fox? foxen? Foxii?) who have escape my paparazzi abilities.
Sounds pleasant, right? Nice quiet street, nice quiet house, nestled in nature, abundant wildlife....
For the love of god, shut the wildlife up.
I'm a mom. I get about 3.67 non-consecutive hours of sleep in any given 24 hour time frame. I treasure those hours. I think about them often, and they motivate me. And so, when I climb into my comfy bed, excited by the cool breeze blowing gently over my face, inhaling the fresh air, it disturbs me greatly when I can't sleep.
And why can't I sleep, you ask?
Lets start with the owls. For the love of christ, the owls. WhooooooooooooOOOOOOO WhooooooooOOOOOOOOO *pause long enough for me to think they've flown away* WhoooooooooOOOOO WhoooooooooOOOOOOOOO
Add in the bullfrogs from the stream. Bullfrog don't ribbit or make a cute noise. Their sound is somthing akin to a frat boy beer belch. BWWAAAAP. BWAAAAAP.
Followed by the foxes (foxen.) The foxes make noises like a cat that's been hit by a car. Breeerrrrraaawwrrrr breeeerrrrraaawwwrrr.
The crickets, who make a somewhat nice noise, but since I am deathly afraid of them, it gives me the heebiejeebies.
My husband chimes in, with a nasally sleeping on his back snorky snore. Snnnoooooorrrrkkkkkk kkkkkk skooorrrrrkkk
Just as I think I'm about to go crazy laying in bed, trying to sleep but unable, my lovely Cecilia chimes in with "mem?" "Mem?" "MEMMY!!!!"
WhooooooooooooOOOOOOOWhooooooooOOOOOOOOOWhoooooooooOOOOOWhoooooooooOOOOOOOOO BWWAAAAP.BWAAAAAP BWWAAAAP.BWAAAAAPBreeerrrrraaawwrrrrbreeeerrrrraaawwwrrr.Breeerrrrraaawwrrrrbreeeerrrrraaawwwrrr. Snnnoooooorrrrkkkkkk kkkkkk skooorrrrrkkkSnnnoooooorrrrkkkkkk kkkkkk skooorrrrrkkkmem?Mem?Memmy?mem?mememememememememem?
So much for sleep.
There is also no shortage of wildlife in the fireswamp. Poisonous snakes, bats, more bats, toads, more toads, and a family of foxes (foxes? Fox? foxen? Foxii?) who have escape my paparazzi abilities.
Sounds pleasant, right? Nice quiet street, nice quiet house, nestled in nature, abundant wildlife....
For the love of god, shut the wildlife up.
I'm a mom. I get about 3.67 non-consecutive hours of sleep in any given 24 hour time frame. I treasure those hours. I think about them often, and they motivate me. And so, when I climb into my comfy bed, excited by the cool breeze blowing gently over my face, inhaling the fresh air, it disturbs me greatly when I can't sleep.
And why can't I sleep, you ask?
Lets start with the owls. For the love of christ, the owls. WhooooooooooooOOOOOOO WhooooooooOOOOOOOOO *pause long enough for me to think they've flown away* WhoooooooooOOOOO WhoooooooooOOOOOOOOO
Add in the bullfrogs from the stream. Bullfrog don't ribbit or make a cute noise. Their sound is somthing akin to a frat boy beer belch. BWWAAAAP. BWAAAAAP.
Followed by the foxes (foxen.) The foxes make noises like a cat that's been hit by a car. Breeerrrrraaawwrrrr breeeerrrrraaawwwrrr.
The crickets, who make a somewhat nice noise, but since I am deathly afraid of them, it gives me the heebiejeebies.
My husband chimes in, with a nasally sleeping on his back snorky snore. Snnnoooooorrrrkkkkkk kkkkkk skooorrrrrkkk
Just as I think I'm about to go crazy laying in bed, trying to sleep but unable, my lovely Cecilia chimes in with "mem?" "Mem?" "MEMMY!!!!"
WhooooooooooooOOOOOOOWhooooooooOOOOOOOOOWhoooooooooOOOOOWhoooooooooOOOOOOOOO BWWAAAAP.BWAAAAAP BWWAAAAP.BWAAAAAPBreeerrrrraaawwrrrrbreeeerrrrraaawwwrrr.Breeerrrrraaawwrrrrbreeeerrrrraaawwwrrr. Snnnoooooorrrrkkkkkk kkkkkk skooorrrrrkkkSnnnoooooorrrrkkkkkk kkkkkk skooorrrrrkkkmem?Mem?Memmy?mem?mememememememememem?
So much for sleep.
Thursday, April 19, 2007
5 years
When I look back on those times
and those dreams left behind
I'll be glad.
Because I was blessed
to have you in my life.
When I look back on those days
I'll look
and see your face.
In my dreams,
I'll always see you soar
above the sky.
In my heart,
there will always be a place for you
for all my life.
I'll keep a part of you with me
and everywhere I am
there you'll be.
and those dreams left behind
I'll be glad.
Because I was blessed
to have you in my life.
When I look back on those days
I'll look
and see your face.
In my dreams,
I'll always see you soar
above the sky.
In my heart,
there will always be a place for you
for all my life.
I'll keep a part of you with me
and everywhere I am
there you'll be.
Friday, April 13, 2007
Sunday, April 08, 2007
Thursday, April 05, 2007
Reason #57392520 why I love my sister
The scene: The Beauty Supply Store; Saki and Wok are perusing the hair products
Wok: This says "For virgin hair"
Saki: Virgin hair?
Wok: I guess they mean hair that you have never used stuff on. Or maybe like dye.
Saki: *snorts and giggles*
Wok: *shoving it back on the shelf* My hair has been like....gangbanged.
Wok: This says "For virgin hair"
Saki: Virgin hair?
Wok: I guess they mean hair that you have never used stuff on. Or maybe like dye.
Saki: *snorts and giggles*
Wok: *shoving it back on the shelf* My hair has been like....gangbanged.
Sunday, April 01, 2007
Thursday, March 22, 2007
And on the 8th day, god created frank zappa
Whoever we are
Wherever were from
We shoulda noticed by now
Our behavior is dumb
And if our chances
Expect to improve
Its gonna take a lot more
Than tryin to remove
The other race
Or the other whatever
From the face
Of the planet altogether
They call it the earth
Which is a dumb kinda name
But they named it right
cause we behave the same...
We are dumb all over
Dumb all over,
Yes we are
Dumb all over,
Near n far
Dumb all over,
Black n white
People, we is not wrapped tight
Nurds on the left
Nurds on the right
Religous fanatics
On the air every night
Sayin the bible
Tells the story
Makes the details
Sound real gory
bout what to do
If the geeks over there
Dont believe in the book
We got over here
You cant run a race
Without no feet
n pretty soon
There wont be no street
For dummies to jog on
Or doggies to dog on
Religous fanatics
Can make it be all gone
(I mean it wont blow up
n disappear
Itll just look ugly
For a thousand years...)
You cant run a country
By a book of religion
Not by a heap
Or a lump or a smidgeon
Of foolish rules
Of ancient date
Designed to make
You all feel great
While you fold, spindle
And mutilate
Those unbelievers
From a neighboring state
To arms! to arms!
Hooray! thats great
Two legs aint bad
Unless theres a crate
They ship the parts
To mama in
For souvenirs: two ears (get down!)
Not his, not hers, (but what the hey? )
The good book says:
(it gotta be that way!)
But their book says:
Revenge the crusades...
With whips n chains
n hand grenades...
Two arms? two arms?
Have another and another
Our God says:
There aint no other!
Our God says
Its all okay!
Our God says
This is the way!
It says in the book:
Burn n destroy...
n repent, n redeem
n revenge, n deploy
n rumble thee forth
To the land of the unbelieving scum on the other side
cause they dont go for whats in the book
n that makes em bad
So verily we must choppeth them up
And stompeth them down
Or rent a nice french bomb
To poof them out of existance
While leaving their real estate just where we need it
To use again
For temples in which to praise our god
(cause he can really take care of business!)
And when his humble tv servant
With humble white hair
And humble glasses
And a nice brown suit
And maybe a blond wife who takes phone calls
Tells us our God says
Its okay to do this stuff
Then we gotta do it,
cause if we dont do it,
We aint g'wine up to hebbin!
(depending on which book youre using at the
Time...cant use theirs... it dont work
...its all lies...gotta use mine...)
Aint that right?
Thats what they say
Every night...
Every day...
Hey, we cant really be dumb
If were just following gods orders
Hey, lets get serious...
God knows what hes doin
He wrote this book here
An the book says:
He made us all to be just like him,
So...
If were dumb...
Then God is dumb...
(an maybe even a little ugly on the side)
Wherever were from
We shoulda noticed by now
Our behavior is dumb
And if our chances
Expect to improve
Its gonna take a lot more
Than tryin to remove
The other race
Or the other whatever
From the face
Of the planet altogether
They call it the earth
Which is a dumb kinda name
But they named it right
cause we behave the same...
We are dumb all over
Dumb all over,
Yes we are
Dumb all over,
Near n far
Dumb all over,
Black n white
People, we is not wrapped tight
Nurds on the left
Nurds on the right
Religous fanatics
On the air every night
Sayin the bible
Tells the story
Makes the details
Sound real gory
bout what to do
If the geeks over there
Dont believe in the book
We got over here
You cant run a race
Without no feet
n pretty soon
There wont be no street
For dummies to jog on
Or doggies to dog on
Religous fanatics
Can make it be all gone
(I mean it wont blow up
n disappear
Itll just look ugly
For a thousand years...)
You cant run a country
By a book of religion
Not by a heap
Or a lump or a smidgeon
Of foolish rules
Of ancient date
Designed to make
You all feel great
While you fold, spindle
And mutilate
Those unbelievers
From a neighboring state
To arms! to arms!
Hooray! thats great
Two legs aint bad
Unless theres a crate
They ship the parts
To mama in
For souvenirs: two ears (get down!)
Not his, not hers, (but what the hey? )
The good book says:
(it gotta be that way!)
But their book says:
Revenge the crusades...
With whips n chains
n hand grenades...
Two arms? two arms?
Have another and another
Our God says:
There aint no other!
Our God says
Its all okay!
Our God says
This is the way!
It says in the book:
Burn n destroy...
n repent, n redeem
n revenge, n deploy
n rumble thee forth
To the land of the unbelieving scum on the other side
cause they dont go for whats in the book
n that makes em bad
So verily we must choppeth them up
And stompeth them down
Or rent a nice french bomb
To poof them out of existance
While leaving their real estate just where we need it
To use again
For temples in which to praise our god
(cause he can really take care of business!)
And when his humble tv servant
With humble white hair
And humble glasses
And a nice brown suit
And maybe a blond wife who takes phone calls
Tells us our God says
Its okay to do this stuff
Then we gotta do it,
cause if we dont do it,
We aint g'wine up to hebbin!
(depending on which book youre using at the
Time...cant use theirs... it dont work
...its all lies...gotta use mine...)
Aint that right?
Thats what they say
Every night...
Every day...
Hey, we cant really be dumb
If were just following gods orders
Hey, lets get serious...
God knows what hes doin
He wrote this book here
An the book says:
He made us all to be just like him,
So...
If were dumb...
Then God is dumb...
(an maybe even a little ugly on the side)
Thursday, March 15, 2007
Shinin' Down Like Water
I was looking through a box of old pictures today. Pictures of my family from the 30's and 40's. My grandparents, young, sweet faced, my grandfather in his Air Force uniform, my grandmother standing proudly holding onto his arm. I touched their faces, traced my fingers over the yellowed newspaper clippings in their scrapbook.
I made a pile of photos. Photos of smiling faces and summer homes that I didn't recognize. "I'll ask Papou," I thought.
My mother came home from work, excited to see I was pouring through the photos. "What are these ones set out for?" she asked as she picked up the stack of unknowns.
"Oh, I was just going to ask..." and then my voice got stuck. Stuck deep down in my chest and I couldn't say it. I had forgotten.
His number is still programmed into my phone, but I know it by heart anyway. I haven't called it in over two years now. Two years. Has it really been that long?
Sometimes it seems so close, I can still smell his cologne, his marlboros, the cold air on his jacket as he came into the house; tall, proud, noble. I can feel the stubble on his face as he bent his 6'7" frame to hug me.
But more than that, I still feel him around me. Thank god for that.
I made a pile of photos. Photos of smiling faces and summer homes that I didn't recognize. "I'll ask Papou," I thought.
My mother came home from work, excited to see I was pouring through the photos. "What are these ones set out for?" she asked as she picked up the stack of unknowns.
"Oh, I was just going to ask..." and then my voice got stuck. Stuck deep down in my chest and I couldn't say it. I had forgotten.
His number is still programmed into my phone, but I know it by heart anyway. I haven't called it in over two years now. Two years. Has it really been that long?
Sometimes it seems so close, I can still smell his cologne, his marlboros, the cold air on his jacket as he came into the house; tall, proud, noble. I can feel the stubble on his face as he bent his 6'7" frame to hug me.
But more than that, I still feel him around me. Thank god for that.
Friday, March 09, 2007
When we two parted
When we two parted
In silence and tears,
Half broken hearted
To sever for years,
Pale grew thy cheek and cold,
Colder thy kiss;
Truly that hour foretold
Sorrow to this.
The dew of the morning
Sunk chill on my brow -
It felt like the warning
Of what I feel now.
Thy vows are all broken,
And light is thy fame:
I hear thy name spoken,
And share in its shame.
They name thee before me,
A knell to mine ear;
A shudder comes over me -
Why were thou so dear?
They know not I knew thee
Who knew thee too well:
Long, long shall I rue thee,
Too deeply to tell.
In secret we met -
In silence I grieve,
That thy heart could forget,
Thy spirit deceive.
If I should meet thee
After long years,
How should I greet thee?
With silence and tears.
In silence and tears,
Half broken hearted
To sever for years,
Pale grew thy cheek and cold,
Colder thy kiss;
Truly that hour foretold
Sorrow to this.
The dew of the morning
Sunk chill on my brow -
It felt like the warning
Of what I feel now.
Thy vows are all broken,
And light is thy fame:
I hear thy name spoken,
And share in its shame.
They name thee before me,
A knell to mine ear;
A shudder comes over me -
Why were thou so dear?
They know not I knew thee
Who knew thee too well:
Long, long shall I rue thee,
Too deeply to tell.
In secret we met -
In silence I grieve,
That thy heart could forget,
Thy spirit deceive.
If I should meet thee
After long years,
How should I greet thee?
With silence and tears.
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
The Legend of the Concrete Donkey
Or, "What My Mother Bought Me For Valentines Day"
Once upon a time...
Many years ago, I'm going to guess and say a good 5 years ago, my mother and I were driving home from dropping my sister off at her gymnastics lesson. We passed a house that was clearly packing up to move, and on the curb was a HUGE pile of all sorts of good things that didn't fit into the truck, or didn't coordinate in the new house, or something. Anyway, they were throwing out a lot of good stuff. Namely, a concrete lawn donkey, with little saddlebags for planting flowers in. I squealed in delight and commanded my mother to pull over.
"Why?" she asked. This came as a surprise, because my mother takes a great deal of pleasure in plucking antique knickknacks out of curb piles such as this.
"Because I want that donkey!" I yelled in dispair as we drove farther from the house. "Mom!!! TURN AROUND" and so, she did. I was right. There he was, in all of his concrete glory, Dominick Ee-Aww Ee-Aww. She slowed down in front of the house so I could get a better view. "Okay, now stop!" I said, pulling at the door handle.
But she wouldn't stop! She said I'd have to cross the traffic on Mill Rd. to get the donkey, and we had to go that way on the way back from picking my sister up, and I'd be on the right side of the road to just hop out and grab Dominick Ee-Aww Ee-Aww. I wasn't pleased with the idea, but there wasn't much I could do, being seated in the passengers seat and all.
And so, we spent the hour running errands, then picked up my sister, and headed back up Mill Rd. so that I could claim Dominick Ee-Aww Ee-Aww for my own. My stomach knotted as we got close. The pile of stuff on the curb was significantly smaller. My mom passed the house, but he was gone! My donkey had been STOLEN! I looked around frantically, hoping maybe someone had just moved him, but no. All that was left was a sad patch of bent, pressed down grass where Dominick Ee-Aww Ee-Aww had rested just an hour before.
I stormed back in the car, and declared that someone had stolen the donkey. My mother laughed. She's cruel like that.
"MOM!" I said, growing ever more irritated with her blase attitude about my donkey.
Her cheeks grew red as she ried to hold in her guffaws. "What would you like me to do?" she asked, her voice cracking. I can't be sure, but I'm pretty sure she was being sarcastic.
"I want you to drive around the neighborhood so I can see if someone has MY donkey on THEIR front lawn!! That's what I want you to do!"
She sighed, and we started our adventure, slowly trolling up and down the adjacent neighborhood as I sat, half hanging out the window looking for Dominick Ee-Aww Ee-Aww. "Are you looking on your side?" I asked her. She didn't answer, but I think she was.
"So... What are you going to do if you see it on someone's front lawn? We can't steal it, Casey."
"I'm going to march up, ring the bell, and say "Excuse me, but you have my donkey on your lawn. I'd like him back, please." And then, if they give me a hard time, I'm going to call them TrashPickers and say that it was my house they took it from, and they have STOLEN PROPERTY."
She just shook her head and drove on.
We drove until it was too dark to see. Reluctantly, we went home. But for months and months, I looked out the window or Dominick Ee-Aww Ee-Aww as we were driving in town, but he was not to be found.
I brought the donkey up often to my mother, most recently this past christmas. Every year she demands a Christmas list from everyone. I headlined mine with "Concrete Donkey."
"Why do you want one of those?!" she asked. And so I recapped the tale, because she is infamous for her selective memory. I had to keep speaking louder and louder though, to out voice her laughter. After I finished, she said "I have no idea what your talking about."
Indeed.
Christmas came and went. No donkey. Le sigh.
************************************************************
Last Thursday my whole family rolled into town with Valentines Day presents. My dad came in carrying a giant red bag, and this is what was inside:
Long Live Dominick Ee-Aww Eee-Aww!!!!
Once upon a time...
Many years ago, I'm going to guess and say a good 5 years ago, my mother and I were driving home from dropping my sister off at her gymnastics lesson. We passed a house that was clearly packing up to move, and on the curb was a HUGE pile of all sorts of good things that didn't fit into the truck, or didn't coordinate in the new house, or something. Anyway, they were throwing out a lot of good stuff. Namely, a concrete lawn donkey, with little saddlebags for planting flowers in. I squealed in delight and commanded my mother to pull over.
"Why?" she asked. This came as a surprise, because my mother takes a great deal of pleasure in plucking antique knickknacks out of curb piles such as this.
"Because I want that donkey!" I yelled in dispair as we drove farther from the house. "Mom!!! TURN AROUND" and so, she did. I was right. There he was, in all of his concrete glory, Dominick Ee-Aww Ee-Aww. She slowed down in front of the house so I could get a better view. "Okay, now stop!" I said, pulling at the door handle.
But she wouldn't stop! She said I'd have to cross the traffic on Mill Rd. to get the donkey, and we had to go that way on the way back from picking my sister up, and I'd be on the right side of the road to just hop out and grab Dominick Ee-Aww Ee-Aww. I wasn't pleased with the idea, but there wasn't much I could do, being seated in the passengers seat and all.
And so, we spent the hour running errands, then picked up my sister, and headed back up Mill Rd. so that I could claim Dominick Ee-Aww Ee-Aww for my own. My stomach knotted as we got close. The pile of stuff on the curb was significantly smaller. My mom passed the house, but he was gone! My donkey had been STOLEN! I looked around frantically, hoping maybe someone had just moved him, but no. All that was left was a sad patch of bent, pressed down grass where Dominick Ee-Aww Ee-Aww had rested just an hour before.
I stormed back in the car, and declared that someone had stolen the donkey. My mother laughed. She's cruel like that.
"MOM!" I said, growing ever more irritated with her blase attitude about my donkey.
Her cheeks grew red as she ried to hold in her guffaws. "What would you like me to do?" she asked, her voice cracking. I can't be sure, but I'm pretty sure she was being sarcastic.
"I want you to drive around the neighborhood so I can see if someone has MY donkey on THEIR front lawn!! That's what I want you to do!"
She sighed, and we started our adventure, slowly trolling up and down the adjacent neighborhood as I sat, half hanging out the window looking for Dominick Ee-Aww Ee-Aww. "Are you looking on your side?" I asked her. She didn't answer, but I think she was.
"So... What are you going to do if you see it on someone's front lawn? We can't steal it, Casey."
"I'm going to march up, ring the bell, and say "Excuse me, but you have my donkey on your lawn. I'd like him back, please." And then, if they give me a hard time, I'm going to call them TrashPickers and say that it was my house they took it from, and they have STOLEN PROPERTY."
She just shook her head and drove on.
We drove until it was too dark to see. Reluctantly, we went home. But for months and months, I looked out the window or Dominick Ee-Aww Ee-Aww as we were driving in town, but he was not to be found.
I brought the donkey up often to my mother, most recently this past christmas. Every year she demands a Christmas list from everyone. I headlined mine with "Concrete Donkey."
"Why do you want one of those?!" she asked. And so I recapped the tale, because she is infamous for her selective memory. I had to keep speaking louder and louder though, to out voice her laughter. After I finished, she said "I have no idea what your talking about."
Indeed.
Christmas came and went. No donkey. Le sigh.
************************************************************
Last Thursday my whole family rolled into town with Valentines Day presents. My dad came in carrying a giant red bag, and this is what was inside:
Long Live Dominick Ee-Aww Eee-Aww!!!!
Sunday, February 18, 2007
If I were an action figure...
When you pulled my string, I would say:
1. You're an ass.
2. Are you cereal?
3. Wtf mate?
4. EVAN!!!
5. Ohjesuschrist.
Courtesy of my sister.
1. You're an ass.
2. Are you cereal?
3. Wtf mate?
4. EVAN!!!
5. Ohjesuschrist.
Courtesy of my sister.
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Monday, February 12, 2007
Shake that ass for me
There is a new study just released by the American Psychiatric Association about women and how they feel about their asses. The results are pretty interesting:
1. 5% of women surveyed feel their ass is too big.
2. 10% of women surveyed feel their ass is too small.
3. The remaining 85% say they don't care; they love him; he's a good
man, and they would have married him anyway.
1. 5% of women surveyed feel their ass is too big.
2. 10% of women surveyed feel their ass is too small.
3. The remaining 85% say they don't care; they love him; he's a good
man, and they would have married him anyway.
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
Monday, January 22, 2007
Basically, yeah...
The problem with George W. Bush is that he believes the same thing on Wednesday as he did on Monday - Regardless of what happened on Tuesday. -Stephen Colbert
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
au naturale
"If breastfeeding in public makes people uneasy because the breasts are considered sexual then bottle-feeding must be the equivalent of whipping out a dildo"
Tuesday, January 02, 2007
Resolutions are like promises and promises never keep
Let's see.
1. To end 2007 looking more like a majestic tree and less like an unkept shrub
2. To keep my house clean. Heh. Well, I guess there's always next year for the ones I've already broken.
3. To be a better mom, wife and person
4. To return phone calls as soon as I can, rather than letting the days slip into weeks
And so, a very happy, healthy 2007 to all of my blog readers. I know I speak for more than just myself when I say: thank god 2006 is over.
1. To end 2007 looking more like a majestic tree and less like an unkept shrub
2. To keep my house clean. Heh. Well, I guess there's always next year for the ones I've already broken.
3. To be a better mom, wife and person
4. To return phone calls as soon as I can, rather than letting the days slip into weeks
And so, a very happy, healthy 2007 to all of my blog readers. I know I speak for more than just myself when I say: thank god 2006 is over.
Tuesday, December 19, 2006
So smoke your marijuanikkah!
Happy Hanukkah to all of my Jewish blog readers :)
(Do I have jewish blog readers?)
(Do I have jewish blog readers?)
Friday, December 08, 2006
Evaneezer
That's Evan, preparing to cut down our Christmas tree. The trees were priced by the foot, and the one we picked had a stray branch, sticking up a good 4" from the top. He whipped out his leatherman and proceeded to hack it off, proudly announcing "I just saved us $3"
Further proof that I married the tightest of wads.
Thursday, December 07, 2006
Ebola
i think I'm dying. I hate being sick. Especially when Cecilia isn't sick, and doesn't think the idea of sleeping the whole day is very appealing. I tried to convince her that laying in bed for extended periods of time is actually very refreshing and makes me happy, but she wasn't having it.
Oh, and I hate the new blogger. It's a pain in my ass and makes my head hurt. Go to hell, blogger beta, go to hell. You are probably in cahoots with my screaming child, competing to see who can make my head hurt more. It's a close race, blogger beta, but I think you're winning. At least my screaming child is cute. You are obnoxious and confusing.
Excuse me while I go medicate.
Oh, and I hate the new blogger. It's a pain in my ass and makes my head hurt. Go to hell, blogger beta, go to hell. You are probably in cahoots with my screaming child, competing to see who can make my head hurt more. It's a close race, blogger beta, but I think you're winning. At least my screaming child is cute. You are obnoxious and confusing.
Excuse me while I go medicate.
Tuesday, December 05, 2006
50 times on the blackboard
I will not ignore my blog. I will not ignore my blog. I will not ignore my blog. I will not ignore my blog. I will not ignore my blog. I will not ignore my blog. I will not ignore my blog. I will not ignore my blog. I will not ignore my blog. I will not ignore my blog. I will not ignore my blog. I will not ignore my blog. I will not ignore my blog. I will not ignore my blog. I will not ignore my blog. I will not ignore my blog. I will not ignore my blog. I will not ignore my blog. I will not ignore my blog. I will not ignore my blog. I will not ignore my blog. I will not ignore my blog. I will not ignore my blog. I will not ignore my blog. I will not ignore my blog. I will not ignore my blog. I will not ignore my blog. I will not ignore my blog. I will not ignore my blog. I will not ignore my blog. I will not ignore my blog. I will not ignore my blog. I will not ignore my blog. I will not ignore my blog. I will not ignore my blog. I will not ignore my blog. I will not ignore my blog. I will not ignore my blog. I will not ignore my blog. I will not ignore my blog. I will not ignore my blog. I will not ignore my blog. I will not ignore my blog. I will not ignore my blog. I will not ignore my blog. I will not ignore my blog. I will not ignore my blog. I will not ignore my blog. I will not ignore my blog. I will not ignore my blog.
Friday, November 17, 2006
Things you have to believe to be a republican
1. Jesus loves you, and shares your hatred of homosexuals and Hillary.
2. Saddam was a good guy when Reagan armed him, a bad guy when Bush's daddy made war on him, a good guy when Cheney did business with him, and a bad guy when Bush needed a "we can't find Bin Laden" diversion.
3. Trade with Cuba is wrong because the country is Communist, but trade with China and Vietnam is vital to a spirit of international harmony.
4. The United States should get out of the United Nations, and our highest national priority is enforcing U.N. resolutions against Iran.
5. A woman can't be trusted with decisions about her own body, but multi-national corporations can make decisions affecting all mankind without regulation.
6. The best way to improve military morale is to praise the troops in speeches, while slashing veterans' benefits and combat pay.
7. If condoms are kept out of schools, adolescents won't have sex.
8. A good way to fight terrorism is to belittle our long-time allies, then demand their cooperation and money.
9. Providing health care to all Iraqis is sound policy, but providing health care to all Americans is socialism. HMOs and insurance companies have the best interests of the public at heart.
10. Global warming and tobacco's link to cancer are junk science, but creationism should be taught in schools.
11. A president lying about an extra-marital affair is an impeachable offense, but a president lying to enlist support for a war in which thousands die is solid defense policy.
12. Government should limit itself to the powers named in the Constitution, which include banning gay marriages and censoring the Internet.
13. The public has a right to know about Hillary's cattle trades, but George Bush's driving and military records are none of our business.
14. Being a drug addict is a moral failing and a crime, unless you're a conservative radio host. Then it's an illness and you need our prayers for your recovery.
15. What Bill Clinton did in the 1960s is of vital national interest, but what Bush did in the '60s is irrelevant.
2. Saddam was a good guy when Reagan armed him, a bad guy when Bush's daddy made war on him, a good guy when Cheney did business with him, and a bad guy when Bush needed a "we can't find Bin Laden" diversion.
3. Trade with Cuba is wrong because the country is Communist, but trade with China and Vietnam is vital to a spirit of international harmony.
4. The United States should get out of the United Nations, and our highest national priority is enforcing U.N. resolutions against Iran.
5. A woman can't be trusted with decisions about her own body, but multi-national corporations can make decisions affecting all mankind without regulation.
6. The best way to improve military morale is to praise the troops in speeches, while slashing veterans' benefits and combat pay.
7. If condoms are kept out of schools, adolescents won't have sex.
8. A good way to fight terrorism is to belittle our long-time allies, then demand their cooperation and money.
9. Providing health care to all Iraqis is sound policy, but providing health care to all Americans is socialism. HMOs and insurance companies have the best interests of the public at heart.
10. Global warming and tobacco's link to cancer are junk science, but creationism should be taught in schools.
11. A president lying about an extra-marital affair is an impeachable offense, but a president lying to enlist support for a war in which thousands die is solid defense policy.
12. Government should limit itself to the powers named in the Constitution, which include banning gay marriages and censoring the Internet.
13. The public has a right to know about Hillary's cattle trades, but George Bush's driving and military records are none of our business.
14. Being a drug addict is a moral failing and a crime, unless you're a conservative radio host. Then it's an illness and you need our prayers for your recovery.
15. What Bill Clinton did in the 1960s is of vital national interest, but what Bush did in the '60s is irrelevant.
Sunday, November 12, 2006
SO THERE!
Jersey Born, Jersey Bred, Jersey Trash Till I'm dead!
Yeah, I'm from Jersey, have been all my life. I'm gonna give you everything about jersey, the good, the bad, and the ugly.
First... New Jersey people are conceited. It's true. We hate everyone else. And we think we are better than everyone else. And we never stop talking about how great jersey is. Then we tell people to "shut the fuck up" when they tell us all we talk about is jersey. I just recently was in the south ... and I can honestly say, that I do think I am better than them. It's not my fault. It's cause I'm from jersey. My friends and I were the rudest, most obnoxious people there. Everyone just stared at us. Then we saw other rude people, and I asked them where they were from. They said jersey.
Why are New Jersey people self centered? Because we have reason to be.
Next, some of the most famous people have come from our state. Just to name A FEW... Frank Sinatra, Bruce Springsteen, The Bouncing Souls, Kevin Smith, Whitney Houston, Martha Stewart, Lauryn Hill, Catch 22, Anne Hathaway, Queen Latifa, My Chemical Romance, Bon Jovi, Jack Nicholson, Bruce Willis, The Four Seasons, Danny Devito, Tom Cruise .. and the list Goes on.
Not only do we have famous people, we rank in the top 10 of smartest states every year.
Not only are we smart & famous...we're rich. Bergen, Somerset, Morris, & Hunderton counties rank in the countries top 15 richest counties. And despite the slums of Newark (yes, Newark, not New-ark) & Camden which are some of the countries most dangerous places to live, we have 4 of the top 10 safest cities to live in the US.
And we smell? Yeah, we do. New Jersey smells like ASS. On the turnpike, between exits 14 and 17. That's like, 5 percent of the entire state.. Bayonne, Port Newark, and Secaucus. And the surrounding areas. That's it. The majority of the state smells like trees. Because the majority of the state is trees. In fact, three of New Jersey's cities rank in the countries top 10 least polluted cities. So shove it.
New Jersey is ideal. I live 1 hour away from New York City, 1 hour away from Philly, 45 minutes from AC, and 2 seconds away from the famous jersey shore, which by the way is amazing. You think your beach is better? Fuck you. Why do you think MTV's true life had an episode titled "I'm a Jersey Shore girl." Because it's the best fucking shore in the country.
My house is 3 minutes to the nearest mall, 5 minutes to the next, and a 10 to the next. I just Counted 7 malls within a half hour of my house. Find me another state that has all that to offer.
Yeah, we have accents. Who gives a shit? Everyone has an accent. And no, we don't say "Joisey." We do say "cawfee and tawk." But I can tell you it's a hell of a better accent than you bitches from the south.
Hungry? Don't worry. We have 24 hour diners. A million of them. We also have Hoboken which has some of the finest places to eat. And you have not had real Italian food until you come here. Okay?
And WE can't drive? NO.. YOU can't drive. In the south the speed limit signs read: speed limit 60.. minimum 45. WHAT? That's why you people can't drive. Who has a minimum speed limit? New Jersey drivers like pissing other people off solely because of the reputation. This is what we will do...just so you know...if we see an out of state license plate, we'll tailgate your ass. Probably because you're only doing the speed limit & we want to go 20 over. Then, we'll cut you off... and go slow in front of you. Because we can. And because when you go home you're gonna complain about us. We like it, it doesn't bother us….it's what we want.
We like fast things. Things move too slow in other states. You can tell that someone's from New Jersey by the way they walk. They walk really fast and have a strut that says "I'm better than you."
Just shut the fuck up. If you go to Seaside boardwalk or Belmar. You'll probably see some of the trashiest, skankiest girls & some of the most guido, gelled up hair, armani exchange wearing boys that take too many steroids and have too much sex… And pretty much about 99% of them are mocked upon being from New York and all.
The majority of Jersey people are Italian, or wish they were. We drink & smoke way too much. Oh yeah and we throw the sickest parties ... in the woods.
What else? Giants, Jets, Nets, and of course the Devils. They're
better than you. So shut the fuck up. And we have more Yankee fans than New York City. Come to jersey with a sox hat on ... I fuckin' dare you!
And oh yeah, we say "yo." Often. And "fuck." I don't complain that you say "y'all" so don't complain that I say "yo."
To sum up New Jersey, yeah, most of the stereotypes are true, probably for about 5 percent of the state. The rest of the state is beautiful.
And yeah, we hate you. We love ourselves. Wanna know why? Because all you bitches hate us. How would you feel if the other 49 states spent all their time talking shit? We deserve to be our own country cause we're that cool.
Yeah, I'm from Jersey, have been all my life. I'm gonna give you everything about jersey, the good, the bad, and the ugly.
First... New Jersey people are conceited. It's true. We hate everyone else. And we think we are better than everyone else. And we never stop talking about how great jersey is. Then we tell people to "shut the fuck up" when they tell us all we talk about is jersey. I just recently was in the south ... and I can honestly say, that I do think I am better than them. It's not my fault. It's cause I'm from jersey. My friends and I were the rudest, most obnoxious people there. Everyone just stared at us. Then we saw other rude people, and I asked them where they were from. They said jersey.
Why are New Jersey people self centered? Because we have reason to be.
Next, some of the most famous people have come from our state. Just to name A FEW... Frank Sinatra, Bruce Springsteen, The Bouncing Souls, Kevin Smith, Whitney Houston, Martha Stewart, Lauryn Hill, Catch 22, Anne Hathaway, Queen Latifa, My Chemical Romance, Bon Jovi, Jack Nicholson, Bruce Willis, The Four Seasons, Danny Devito, Tom Cruise .. and the list Goes on.
Not only do we have famous people, we rank in the top 10 of smartest states every year.
Not only are we smart & famous...we're rich. Bergen, Somerset, Morris, & Hunderton counties rank in the countries top 15 richest counties. And despite the slums of Newark (yes, Newark, not New-ark) & Camden which are some of the countries most dangerous places to live, we have 4 of the top 10 safest cities to live in the US.
And we smell? Yeah, we do. New Jersey smells like ASS. On the turnpike, between exits 14 and 17. That's like, 5 percent of the entire state.. Bayonne, Port Newark, and Secaucus. And the surrounding areas. That's it. The majority of the state smells like trees. Because the majority of the state is trees. In fact, three of New Jersey's cities rank in the countries top 10 least polluted cities. So shove it.
New Jersey is ideal. I live 1 hour away from New York City, 1 hour away from Philly, 45 minutes from AC, and 2 seconds away from the famous jersey shore, which by the way is amazing. You think your beach is better? Fuck you. Why do you think MTV's true life had an episode titled "I'm a Jersey Shore girl." Because it's the best fucking shore in the country.
My house is 3 minutes to the nearest mall, 5 minutes to the next, and a 10 to the next. I just Counted 7 malls within a half hour of my house. Find me another state that has all that to offer.
Yeah, we have accents. Who gives a shit? Everyone has an accent. And no, we don't say "Joisey." We do say "cawfee and tawk." But I can tell you it's a hell of a better accent than you bitches from the south.
Hungry? Don't worry. We have 24 hour diners. A million of them. We also have Hoboken which has some of the finest places to eat. And you have not had real Italian food until you come here. Okay?
And WE can't drive? NO.. YOU can't drive. In the south the speed limit signs read: speed limit 60.. minimum 45. WHAT? That's why you people can't drive. Who has a minimum speed limit? New Jersey drivers like pissing other people off solely because of the reputation. This is what we will do...just so you know...if we see an out of state license plate, we'll tailgate your ass. Probably because you're only doing the speed limit & we want to go 20 over. Then, we'll cut you off... and go slow in front of you. Because we can. And because when you go home you're gonna complain about us. We like it, it doesn't bother us….it's what we want.
We like fast things. Things move too slow in other states. You can tell that someone's from New Jersey by the way they walk. They walk really fast and have a strut that says "I'm better than you."
Just shut the fuck up. If you go to Seaside boardwalk or Belmar. You'll probably see some of the trashiest, skankiest girls & some of the most guido, gelled up hair, armani exchange wearing boys that take too many steroids and have too much sex… And pretty much about 99% of them are mocked upon being from New York and all.
The majority of Jersey people are Italian, or wish they were. We drink & smoke way too much. Oh yeah and we throw the sickest parties ... in the woods.
What else? Giants, Jets, Nets, and of course the Devils. They're
better than you. So shut the fuck up. And we have more Yankee fans than New York City. Come to jersey with a sox hat on ... I fuckin' dare you!
And oh yeah, we say "yo." Often. And "fuck." I don't complain that you say "y'all" so don't complain that I say "yo."
To sum up New Jersey, yeah, most of the stereotypes are true, probably for about 5 percent of the state. The rest of the state is beautiful.
And yeah, we hate you. We love ourselves. Wanna know why? Because all you bitches hate us. How would you feel if the other 49 states spent all their time talking shit? We deserve to be our own country cause we're that cool.
Friday, November 03, 2006
On Marriage:
"Maybe he isn't cheating or anything. Maybe he's sneaking off to George Bush meetings. Maybe he's a republican. Oh God, THAT'S SO MUCH WORSE!"
-Amber
-Amber
Tuesday, October 31, 2006
Tuesday, October 24, 2006
The Uneasy Rider
Me and my buddy got us some wild hair and we figured we wanted to go somewhere, so we loaded up in my ragtop Chevrolet. We had a little bit of money and a whole lot of show, and with Hank Jr. blarin' on the radio we got a tank full of gas and we were on our way. We figured we'd go down to New Orleans, we were barreling down ol' 17 when a man with a blinking red light was on our tail.
He said "You were doing 60 in a 45, but I'm gonna let you go this time, but if I catch you again, I'll put you in the county jail,"
We said "Thank you sir, you've sure been nice, you won't have to tell us twice." and we were southbound with the wind blowing in our faces.
We kept on rolling, and pretty soon the radio was kicking out a haggard tune and we were pulling into Houston and checkin' out all those places. I was feeling dry and I said "I think we ought to stop and get ourselves a drink" And ol' Jim said "yeah, 'cause we've got time to kill."
We kept on rollin' and I seen this spot and we pulled into the parking lot of a place called The Cloud 9 Bar and Grill. We walked through the door and the place was jammed, the lights were low, they had a punk rock band with some orange haired fella singing about suicide. I said "Jim, this ain't our kind of place..." and he said "well, let's just have one round anyways."
So against my better judgement we walked on inside, went up to the bar and we sat down, this fella walked up and said "I'll buy this round" and sat down on the barstool next to Jim. He looked like a girl but talked like a guy; had lipstick on and mascara on his eyes, and everyone in that bar looked just like him.
I said "Jim this ain't our kind of bar, let's just and get back in the car, there's gonna be trouble, no sense in taking a chance." We were getting up, gettig ready to leave when somebody grabbed ol' Jim by the sleeve; it was this good looking girl and she was asking my buddy to dance. I said "Jim don't do, theres something missing, theres fellas dancing and fellas kissing, there's a fella in high heeled shoes wearing pantyhose!"
He said "Partner, I just can't turn this down, you go over and have one more round, I'll dance with the lady and we'll get back on the road."
So he walked away and left me alone, and this funny looking fella kept coming on, and he was making me mad with some of the things he was saying. And then he put his hand on my knee, I said "If you don't get your hands off me, I'm gonna locate your nose on the wrong side of your head."
He said "I love it when you get that fire in your eyes!"
Heh..well, partner, try this on for size...I unloaded on him and he went out like a light. Everybody in that place must've been his friend, they all headed for me I thought 'this is the end,' but where i come from we don't give up without a fight. They were screaming and yelling and punching and pawing, I was punching and hitting and kicking and clawing. I was holding my own (cause I've been in a scrap or two.)
Ol' Jim came running up out of the blue, and the girl he was with came running up to, and proceeded to beat on me with her high heeled shoe. I grabbed her by the hair, it came off in my hand - that beautiful girl was just a beautiful man. Ol' Jim just got sick right there on the floor. He dropped that dude like a shot for a gun, smeared "her" lipstick and made her make up run, and me and O'l Jim started fighting our way to the door.
Man, we let outta there in my Chevrolet, I put it on the floor and it stayed that way we were going down the highway doing about 110. We were headed for home and we were getting near when a red light came up in the rearview mirror. It was that SAME damn cop pulling us over again.
We were sitting there in the county jail, I had to call my Daddy to throw our bail, but i learned me a lesson I never will forget...
I done give drinkin'
I give up bars
And running round the country in suped up cars
I'm going back where the women are women and the men are men
He said "You were doing 60 in a 45, but I'm gonna let you go this time, but if I catch you again, I'll put you in the county jail,"
We said "Thank you sir, you've sure been nice, you won't have to tell us twice." and we were southbound with the wind blowing in our faces.
We kept on rolling, and pretty soon the radio was kicking out a haggard tune and we were pulling into Houston and checkin' out all those places. I was feeling dry and I said "I think we ought to stop and get ourselves a drink" And ol' Jim said "yeah, 'cause we've got time to kill."
We kept on rollin' and I seen this spot and we pulled into the parking lot of a place called The Cloud 9 Bar and Grill. We walked through the door and the place was jammed, the lights were low, they had a punk rock band with some orange haired fella singing about suicide. I said "Jim, this ain't our kind of place..." and he said "well, let's just have one round anyways."
So against my better judgement we walked on inside, went up to the bar and we sat down, this fella walked up and said "I'll buy this round" and sat down on the barstool next to Jim. He looked like a girl but talked like a guy; had lipstick on and mascara on his eyes, and everyone in that bar looked just like him.
I said "Jim this ain't our kind of bar, let's just and get back in the car, there's gonna be trouble, no sense in taking a chance." We were getting up, gettig ready to leave when somebody grabbed ol' Jim by the sleeve; it was this good looking girl and she was asking my buddy to dance. I said "Jim don't do, theres something missing, theres fellas dancing and fellas kissing, there's a fella in high heeled shoes wearing pantyhose!"
He said "Partner, I just can't turn this down, you go over and have one more round, I'll dance with the lady and we'll get back on the road."
So he walked away and left me alone, and this funny looking fella kept coming on, and he was making me mad with some of the things he was saying. And then he put his hand on my knee, I said "If you don't get your hands off me, I'm gonna locate your nose on the wrong side of your head."
He said "I love it when you get that fire in your eyes!"
Heh..well, partner, try this on for size...I unloaded on him and he went out like a light. Everybody in that place must've been his friend, they all headed for me I thought 'this is the end,' but where i come from we don't give up without a fight. They were screaming and yelling and punching and pawing, I was punching and hitting and kicking and clawing. I was holding my own (cause I've been in a scrap or two.)
Ol' Jim came running up out of the blue, and the girl he was with came running up to, and proceeded to beat on me with her high heeled shoe. I grabbed her by the hair, it came off in my hand - that beautiful girl was just a beautiful man. Ol' Jim just got sick right there on the floor. He dropped that dude like a shot for a gun, smeared "her" lipstick and made her make up run, and me and O'l Jim started fighting our way to the door.
Man, we let outta there in my Chevrolet, I put it on the floor and it stayed that way we were going down the highway doing about 110. We were headed for home and we were getting near when a red light came up in the rearview mirror. It was that SAME damn cop pulling us over again.
We were sitting there in the county jail, I had to call my Daddy to throw our bail, but i learned me a lesson I never will forget...
I done give drinkin'
I give up bars
And running round the country in suped up cars
I'm going back where the women are women and the men are men
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
Vive la gloves
Heh...nevermind the fact that I got cashmere gloves for Christmas last year, long live the hippie gloves :)
Tuesday, October 03, 2006
All my words come back to me, in shades of mediocrity
This is for all the mothers who froze their buns off on metal bleachers at football games Friday night instead of watching from cars, so that when their kids asked, "Did you see me?" they could say, "Of course, I wouldn't have missed it for the world," and mean it.
This is for all the mothers who have sat up all night with sick toddlers in their arms, wiping up barf laced with Oscar Mayer wieners and cherry Kool-Aid saying, "It's OK honey, Mommy's here."
This is for all the mothers of Kosovo who fled in the night and can't find their children.
This is for the mothers who gave birth to babies they'll never see. And the mothers who took those babies and made them homes.
For all the mothers of the victims of a school shooting, and the mothers of the murderers. For the mothers of the survivors, and the mothers who sat in front of their TV's in horror, hugging their child who just came home from school, safely.
For all the mothers who run carpools and make cookies and sew Halloween costumes. And all the mothers who DON'T.
What makes a good Mother anyway? Is it patience? Compassion? Broad hips? The ability to nurse a baby, cook dinner, and sew a button on a shirt, all at the same time? Or is it heart? Is it the ache you feel when you watch your son or daughter disappear down the street, walking to School alone for the very first time? The jolt that takes you from sleep to dread, from bed to crib at 2 A.M. to put your hand on the back of a sleeping baby?
The need to flee from wherever you are and hug your child when you hear news of a school shooting, a fire, a car accident, a baby dying?
This is for all the mothers that sat down with their children and explained all about making babies. And for all the mothers who wanted to but just couldn't.
This is for reading "Goodnight, Moon" twice a night for a year. And then reading it again. "Just one more time."
This is for all the mothers who mess up. Who yell at their kids in the grocery store and swat them in despair and stomp their feet like a tired two-year old who wants ice cream before dinner.
This is for all the mothers who taught their daughters to tie their shoelaces before they started school. And for all the mothers who opted for Velcro instead.
For all the mothers who bite their lips -- sometimes until they bleed -- when their 14-year-olds dye their hair green. Who lock themselves in the bathroom when babies keep crying and won't stop.
This is for all the mothers who show up at work with spit-up in their hair and milk stains on their blouses and diapers in their purse.
This is for all the mothers who teach their sons to cook and their daughters to sink a jump shot.
This is for all mothers whose heads turn automatically when a little voice calls "Mom?" in a crowd, even though they know their own offspring are at home.
This is for mothers who put pinwheels and teddy bears on their children's graves.
This is for mothers whose children have gone astray, who can't find the words to reach them.
This is for all the mothers who sent their sons to school with stomachaches, assuring them they'd be just FINE once they got there, only to get calls from the school nurse and hour later asking them to please pick them up. Right away.
This is for young mothers stumbling through diaper changes and sleep deprivation. And mature mothers learning to let go. For working mothers and stay-at-home mothers. Single mothers and married mothers. Mothers with money, mothers without.
This is for you all.
"Home" is what catches you when we fall - and we all fall.
This is for all the mothers who have sat up all night with sick toddlers in their arms, wiping up barf laced with Oscar Mayer wieners and cherry Kool-Aid saying, "It's OK honey, Mommy's here."
This is for all the mothers of Kosovo who fled in the night and can't find their children.
This is for the mothers who gave birth to babies they'll never see. And the mothers who took those babies and made them homes.
For all the mothers of the victims of a school shooting, and the mothers of the murderers. For the mothers of the survivors, and the mothers who sat in front of their TV's in horror, hugging their child who just came home from school, safely.
For all the mothers who run carpools and make cookies and sew Halloween costumes. And all the mothers who DON'T.
What makes a good Mother anyway? Is it patience? Compassion? Broad hips? The ability to nurse a baby, cook dinner, and sew a button on a shirt, all at the same time? Or is it heart? Is it the ache you feel when you watch your son or daughter disappear down the street, walking to School alone for the very first time? The jolt that takes you from sleep to dread, from bed to crib at 2 A.M. to put your hand on the back of a sleeping baby?
The need to flee from wherever you are and hug your child when you hear news of a school shooting, a fire, a car accident, a baby dying?
This is for all the mothers that sat down with their children and explained all about making babies. And for all the mothers who wanted to but just couldn't.
This is for reading "Goodnight, Moon" twice a night for a year. And then reading it again. "Just one more time."
This is for all the mothers who mess up. Who yell at their kids in the grocery store and swat them in despair and stomp their feet like a tired two-year old who wants ice cream before dinner.
This is for all the mothers who taught their daughters to tie their shoelaces before they started school. And for all the mothers who opted for Velcro instead.
For all the mothers who bite their lips -- sometimes until they bleed -- when their 14-year-olds dye their hair green. Who lock themselves in the bathroom when babies keep crying and won't stop.
This is for all the mothers who show up at work with spit-up in their hair and milk stains on their blouses and diapers in their purse.
This is for all the mothers who teach their sons to cook and their daughters to sink a jump shot.
This is for all mothers whose heads turn automatically when a little voice calls "Mom?" in a crowd, even though they know their own offspring are at home.
This is for mothers who put pinwheels and teddy bears on their children's graves.
This is for mothers whose children have gone astray, who can't find the words to reach them.
This is for all the mothers who sent their sons to school with stomachaches, assuring them they'd be just FINE once they got there, only to get calls from the school nurse and hour later asking them to please pick them up. Right away.
This is for young mothers stumbling through diaper changes and sleep deprivation. And mature mothers learning to let go. For working mothers and stay-at-home mothers. Single mothers and married mothers. Mothers with money, mothers without.
This is for you all.
"Home" is what catches you when we fall - and we all fall.
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
When I Rule the World
Paul: I think I'm gonna form my own stateless people and it's own government. And we're gonna declare war on religion.
Me: Sweet. I wanna be VP. "Vote for Paul and me...because...well...it's our country and we're running unopposed!" I can see it now. Like how I turned your stateless people into our country?
Paul: And we'll be like, "Look, Muslims, just because you don't like a cartoon or an opera doesn't mean you get to blow shit up. Christians, just because you're offended by everything that's fun doesn't mean you get to ruin it for the rest of us. Jews, well, yeah you've been persecuted for a few thousand years, but you own all the media and banks, so stop bitching. Buddhists...well...uh...I guess you haven't really done anything to piss me off. You just kinda sit there and say 'It's all gonna be alright, duuuuude.' But be sure that you stay that way. That is all."
Me: Sweet. I wanna be VP. "Vote for Paul and me...because...well...it's our country and we're running unopposed!" I can see it now. Like how I turned your stateless people into our country?
Paul: And we'll be like, "Look, Muslims, just because you don't like a cartoon or an opera doesn't mean you get to blow shit up. Christians, just because you're offended by everything that's fun doesn't mean you get to ruin it for the rest of us. Jews, well, yeah you've been persecuted for a few thousand years, but you own all the media and banks, so stop bitching. Buddhists...well...uh...I guess you haven't really done anything to piss me off. You just kinda sit there and say 'It's all gonna be alright, duuuuude.' But be sure that you stay that way. That is all."
Wednesday, September 20, 2006
Thursday, August 31, 2006
Woot. Look at me! I'm keeping a promise!
Wow, it's like New Year's in August with this resolution and all. I suppose that's fitting, since there's Christmas in July - which, if you live in my house, comes complete with christmas music courtesy of Pokechop the iPod.
H'anyway, I know I promised blogs with pictures, and I know you're all terribly disappointed that this blog will not be discussing anything that I promised to discuss from the previous post, but it's my blog, dammit, and I'm going to wax poetic for a while, because my husband doesn't want to hear it.
Lucky you.
It doesn't feel it, but it's fall here. The temperature is still balmy, still humid, still oppressive. The leaves are slowly yellowing and dropping into the impatiens in the back yard. Driving with Cecilia today, a birch tree has lost the majority of it's leaves. Those are always my favorite kind to step on, they have good "crunch."
I'm sure the hurricane spinning off the coast is helping the leaves to drop, even if they aren't quite ready. It hasn't made landfall yet, but already, even 300 miles north, the winds are kicking up that moist air, and the sky is ominous. I love it. I love hurricanes. Ernesto is making me terribly homesick.
Growing up when a hurricane would hit the coast, we'd pile into the truck after the eye wall had shifted and the sun would be out for an hour or two. We would drive to the beach, and look at the wave ravaged shore. Sometimes, after a particularly vicious one, like Gloria, we'd only be able to get within a few blocks of the beach, because we'd be met on the way by a tidal flood.
But on days where we could see the beach, it was amazing. The waves were huge, and dark, churning with the bottom of the sea all caught up in the salty water. You could taste the spray from the boardwalk and feel the mist on your eyelashes once you were closer. Hurricane waves always brought the best shells, but most were usually broken. Every once in a while, a giant intact conch shell, or huge oyster shell would be laying on the beach, waiting to be taken home, and my sister and I were always happy to oblige.
And now, in Virginia, closer to the mountains than the shore, I watch the hurricane approach on the weather station. From my window I can see the trees starting to bend over the neighbor's splitlevel house. Not how it should be - it changes a powerful hurricane into just another rainy day. I'm guessing it will take with it the last of summer, and before long, all the trees will be bare, and we'll be settling in for another winter, tucked inside our little house.
H'anyway, I know I promised blogs with pictures, and I know you're all terribly disappointed that this blog will not be discussing anything that I promised to discuss from the previous post, but it's my blog, dammit, and I'm going to wax poetic for a while, because my husband doesn't want to hear it.
Lucky you.
It doesn't feel it, but it's fall here. The temperature is still balmy, still humid, still oppressive. The leaves are slowly yellowing and dropping into the impatiens in the back yard. Driving with Cecilia today, a birch tree has lost the majority of it's leaves. Those are always my favorite kind to step on, they have good "crunch."
I'm sure the hurricane spinning off the coast is helping the leaves to drop, even if they aren't quite ready. It hasn't made landfall yet, but already, even 300 miles north, the winds are kicking up that moist air, and the sky is ominous. I love it. I love hurricanes. Ernesto is making me terribly homesick.
Growing up when a hurricane would hit the coast, we'd pile into the truck after the eye wall had shifted and the sun would be out for an hour or two. We would drive to the beach, and look at the wave ravaged shore. Sometimes, after a particularly vicious one, like Gloria, we'd only be able to get within a few blocks of the beach, because we'd be met on the way by a tidal flood.
But on days where we could see the beach, it was amazing. The waves were huge, and dark, churning with the bottom of the sea all caught up in the salty water. You could taste the spray from the boardwalk and feel the mist on your eyelashes once you were closer. Hurricane waves always brought the best shells, but most were usually broken. Every once in a while, a giant intact conch shell, or huge oyster shell would be laying on the beach, waiting to be taken home, and my sister and I were always happy to oblige.
And now, in Virginia, closer to the mountains than the shore, I watch the hurricane approach on the weather station. From my window I can see the trees starting to bend over the neighbor's splitlevel house. Not how it should be - it changes a powerful hurricane into just another rainy day. I'm guessing it will take with it the last of summer, and before long, all the trees will be bare, and we'll be settling in for another winter, tucked inside our little house.
Wednesday, August 30, 2006
Neglected, but not forgotten
During a conversation with the lovely Lauren, today, she tactfully reminded me I needed to post by saying "You need to blog something, I'm tired of seeing the "Squishalicious" one."
I have a blog?
Heh...oh right. I do have a blog.
So, it's not that I have been intentionally neglecting the blog, because in all actuality, I have several posts in queue, but have been too busy(no.) hectic(no.) LAZY(yes, that's the right word) to put them up. Blogs about random things I get in the mail (with pictures), blogs about the day that Lauren singlehandedly lifted the motorcycle (with pictures!), blogs about the day a 6' hole appeared in my house (with pictures!) and blogs about the fact that my baby isn't a baby anymore and it makes me sob (which will probably also have pictures.)
And so, starting tomorrow, i hereby declare that I will no longer ignore my blog, just to make my Lauren happy*
*Disclaimer: I will no longer consciously ignore my blog. However, this does not take into consideration lags in posting due to weather, fatigue, grumpiness, the fact that the president is an asshat, sheer forgetfulness, lack of ambition, lack of enthusiasm, lack of working internets, headaches, backaches, muscle spasms or days where it's too nice to stay inside.
I have a blog?
Heh...oh right. I do have a blog.
So, it's not that I have been intentionally neglecting the blog, because in all actuality, I have several posts in queue, but have been too busy(no.) hectic(no.) LAZY(yes, that's the right word) to put them up. Blogs about random things I get in the mail (with pictures), blogs about the day that Lauren singlehandedly lifted the motorcycle (with pictures!), blogs about the day a 6' hole appeared in my house (with pictures!) and blogs about the fact that my baby isn't a baby anymore and it makes me sob (which will probably also have pictures.)
And so, starting tomorrow, i hereby declare that I will no longer ignore my blog, just to make my Lauren happy*
*Disclaimer: I will no longer consciously ignore my blog. However, this does not take into consideration lags in posting due to weather, fatigue, grumpiness, the fact that the president is an asshat, sheer forgetfulness, lack of ambition, lack of enthusiasm, lack of working internets, headaches, backaches, muscle spasms or days where it's too nice to stay inside.
Tuesday, August 15, 2006
Squish-a-licious
Being the type of mom who is a firm believer in letting babies be babies, dinner time at our house makes for quite the adventure. Cecilia has recently discovered that not only does she have hands that fit in her mouth, she has hands that can grab other things and squish them around and bring them to her mouth.
She likes being part of the table activities. She's not content in her swing, or god forbid, the bouncy chair, but will sit content on someone's knee, with her hands on the table as if waiting for her plate of food. She usually has a napkin to tear up, or my keys to jingle, but sometimes she gets an extra special something to play with, like the fresh whipped cream from dessert.
She likes being part of the table activities. She's not content in her swing, or god forbid, the bouncy chair, but will sit content on someone's knee, with her hands on the table as if waiting for her plate of food. She usually has a napkin to tear up, or my keys to jingle, but sometimes she gets an extra special something to play with, like the fresh whipped cream from dessert.
Saturday, August 05, 2006
Friday, August 04, 2006
Wednesday, August 02, 2006
Well, that's creepy.
So I'm sitting here in my mostly dark dining room, distracting myself from writing the 40 some thank you's I still have left to write on Cecilia's behalf from the Christening, and I happen upon Laurens blog (by the way, have you seen Lauren? She's about this tall, and very pretty, and funny and smells pretty good and has a buick. If you find her, can you point her in my direction? She's missed on Costa Dr.) and I leave a snarky comment, as always, and I notice next to the 'type these funny looking letters into the box" box, there's a little blue man in a wheel chair.
Hm. Intrastink.
So, I click the little blue man in the wheel chair, and through my computer comes a bit of eerie white noise, followed by some weird girl saying things like "one...one...one...one..."
AHHH.
I turned my speakers off, because really, in the dark, it was THAT weird. I regained my wits and turned them back on, and this time heard and man and a woman "Three...three..six....nine....three" What the hell? Why are the creepy voices in a wheelchair? What will become of the crooked letters if I click them? Why do I care so much?
Oh right. Because I don't want to write thank yous.
Hm. Intrastink.
So, I click the little blue man in the wheel chair, and through my computer comes a bit of eerie white noise, followed by some weird girl saying things like "one...one...one...one..."
AHHH.
I turned my speakers off, because really, in the dark, it was THAT weird. I regained my wits and turned them back on, and this time heard and man and a woman "Three...three..six....nine....three" What the hell? Why are the creepy voices in a wheelchair? What will become of the crooked letters if I click them? Why do I care so much?
Oh right. Because I don't want to write thank yous.
Friday, July 28, 2006
Cecilia's Rules for Life
#1. Eat. Eat often. Pretend like you don't want to eat when you really do. scream like someone is beating you until you get fed.
#2. Sleep will come when Cecilia says so. No amount of patting, rocking, walking, jostling, nursing, singing or any other verb will help expidite the process
#3. The aforementioned sleep will only occur when the magic nipple of slumber is less than three inches from the greedy mouth. Sleep positions include, but are not limited to: hogging 3/4 of the bed by sleeping diagonal between two grown adults; laying in koala position on mom or dads chest; side sleeping with legs in such a position so that every trickle that goes into the diaper miraculously misses the super absorbant huggie and lands directly on the new $100 egyptian cotton sheets.
#4. The world is my teether.
#5. Do not nap. Wait for mom to finish telling someone I don't nap. Promptly fall asleep in her arms and stay asleep until that someone leaves
#6. I will only poop in a clean, dry diaper. If my diaper is slightly damp, I will wait for you to change me, and then upon hearing the snap of my onesie, I will explode, warranting a second changing. This will occur daily.
#2. Sleep will come when Cecilia says so. No amount of patting, rocking, walking, jostling, nursing, singing or any other verb will help expidite the process
#3. The aforementioned sleep will only occur when the magic nipple of slumber is less than three inches from the greedy mouth. Sleep positions include, but are not limited to: hogging 3/4 of the bed by sleeping diagonal between two grown adults; laying in koala position on mom or dads chest; side sleeping with legs in such a position so that every trickle that goes into the diaper miraculously misses the super absorbant huggie and lands directly on the new $100 egyptian cotton sheets.
#4. The world is my teether.
#5. Do not nap. Wait for mom to finish telling someone I don't nap. Promptly fall asleep in her arms and stay asleep until that someone leaves
#6. I will only poop in a clean, dry diaper. If my diaper is slightly damp, I will wait for you to change me, and then upon hearing the snap of my onesie, I will explode, warranting a second changing. This will occur daily.
Sunday, July 09, 2006
Wednesday, June 28, 2006
Nothing in all the world is more dangerous than sincere ignorance and conscientious stupidity
if I was the type of hippie who plastered her car with bumper stickers (thankfully, I am not, though someday I aspire to be one) I would probably spend most of my husbands paycheck here.
Click, and be a liberal :)
Click, and be a liberal :)
Sunday, June 11, 2006
Thursday, June 08, 2006
Think Different
Here's to the crazy ones.
The misfits.
The rebels.
The trouble-makers.
The round heads in the square holes.
The ones who see things differently.
They're not fond of rules, and they have no respect for the status-quo. You can quote them, disagree with them, glorify, or vilify them. But the only thing you can't do is ignore them. Because they change things. They push the human race forward. And while some may see them as the crazy ones, we see genius.
Because the only people who are crazy enough to think they can change the world,
are the ones who do."
- Apple Computer Advertisement
The misfits.
The rebels.
The trouble-makers.
The round heads in the square holes.
The ones who see things differently.
They're not fond of rules, and they have no respect for the status-quo. You can quote them, disagree with them, glorify, or vilify them. But the only thing you can't do is ignore them. Because they change things. They push the human race forward. And while some may see them as the crazy ones, we see genius.
Because the only people who are crazy enough to think they can change the world,
are the ones who do."
- Apple Computer Advertisement
Tuesday, June 06, 2006
Monday, May 29, 2006
I know you are, but what am I?
| You Are a Frappacino |
 At your best, you are: fun loving, sweet, and modern At your worst, you are: childish and over indulgent You drink coffee when: you're craving something sweet Your caffeine addiction level: low |
Thursday, May 25, 2006
Bad, Bad Leroy Brown
Baddest toad in the whole damn town
Wild animals are never in short supply here on Costa drive, what with the poisonous snakes, bats, foxes, and now - toads. This is Leroy. He lives in my flowers. Evan is completely smitten with him, and searches for him in the evenings as Leroy hops across the sidewalk to get to the other lines of begonias.
Twice, he's brought Leroy into the house to show him to me, which wouldn't be a problem, except Leroy is an escape artist and doesn't really like to be held. Now he's banned from the inside of the house.
But I do like having him in my flowers. And I think he eats bugs. Another brownie point for Leroy.
Wild animals are never in short supply here on Costa drive, what with the poisonous snakes, bats, foxes, and now - toads. This is Leroy. He lives in my flowers. Evan is completely smitten with him, and searches for him in the evenings as Leroy hops across the sidewalk to get to the other lines of begonias.
Twice, he's brought Leroy into the house to show him to me, which wouldn't be a problem, except Leroy is an escape artist and doesn't really like to be held. Now he's banned from the inside of the house.
But I do like having him in my flowers. And I think he eats bugs. Another brownie point for Leroy.
Monday, May 22, 2006
Thursday, May 18, 2006
Off'd a Hoffa who?
We think he's around here somewhere...
So, the FBI finally has its ass in gear, 30+ years later to find the body of Jimmy Hoffa.
That would be wonderful, except they're looking in the wrong place. Being from Jersey and all, I long stood by the idea that good ol' Jimmy was stashed under the 50 yard line of Giants Stadium. However, that was before I moved to Costa Dr.
Since moving here, our dog Guido has developed a more than freaky habit of staring at the landing, directly at the empty space between ceiling and floor. Being a devout Sylvia Brown fan, I know, of course, that this could only mean one thing - Guido was seeing a ghost.
I tried to compile a list of people who I thought it could be, but really, there's no one it could be other than good ol' Jimmy. And so, armed with that knowledge, I sprung it on my husband, demanding he rip out the (already loose and crumbly) drop ceiling under the spot where Guido stares.
After agreeing with my stellar plan* he could hardly contain himself** as he tore down ceiling tiles. Much to my dismay, we couldnt see the spot we*** were hoping to, and we stood staring at one another, stale, stained ceiling tiles swimming around our ankles.
From what we could see, there was nada. However, after pulling back some paneling, we found a really spooky and completely out of place wall:
That could totally conceal a teamster. So, I'm still holding out hope.
* Read: after calling me a freak, and saing he wasn't going to rip out the ceiling, no matter who was buried in it
** Read: he ripped it out anyway, because at the time, his wife was 9 months pregnant and her moods were wild and scary
*** Read: I
So, the FBI finally has its ass in gear, 30+ years later to find the body of Jimmy Hoffa.
That would be wonderful, except they're looking in the wrong place. Being from Jersey and all, I long stood by the idea that good ol' Jimmy was stashed under the 50 yard line of Giants Stadium. However, that was before I moved to Costa Dr.
Since moving here, our dog Guido has developed a more than freaky habit of staring at the landing, directly at the empty space between ceiling and floor. Being a devout Sylvia Brown fan, I know, of course, that this could only mean one thing - Guido was seeing a ghost.
I tried to compile a list of people who I thought it could be, but really, there's no one it could be other than good ol' Jimmy. And so, armed with that knowledge, I sprung it on my husband, demanding he rip out the (already loose and crumbly) drop ceiling under the spot where Guido stares.
After agreeing with my stellar plan* he could hardly contain himself** as he tore down ceiling tiles. Much to my dismay, we couldnt see the spot we*** were hoping to, and we stood staring at one another, stale, stained ceiling tiles swimming around our ankles.
From what we could see, there was nada. However, after pulling back some paneling, we found a really spooky and completely out of place wall:
That could totally conceal a teamster. So, I'm still holding out hope.
* Read: after calling me a freak, and saing he wasn't going to rip out the ceiling, no matter who was buried in it
** Read: he ripped it out anyway, because at the time, his wife was 9 months pregnant and her moods were wild and scary
*** Read: I
Monday, May 15, 2006
So, I had me a baby
Cecilia Grace
born: April 26th 2006
7:19 pm
7lbs 3oz
19.5 inches long
In case you're wondering, that's what perfection looks like :)
Sunday, April 23, 2006
What a drag it is getting old
Mother needs something today to calm her down
And though she's not really ill
There's a little yellow pill
She goes running for the shelter of a mother's little helper
And it helps her on her way, gets her through her busy day.
Last week I had a doctor's appointment, at which I brought up the fact that I'm 99.9% sure that the baby is systematically gnawing my right hip into oblivion. Not wanting to appear to be quite the whiner that I am in real life, I added that I'm okay during the day, for the most part, but since I fell down my front porch steps (did I mention that? Slipped right down them. Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. Very embarassing) the pain at night while I was trying to fall asleep was keeping me up, and as a result, I was being a very grouchy girl and the dog and my husband cowered in fear constantly. I was hinting I wanted a pain killer....some sort of a tylenol3, or something with codeine, maybe. Instead she gave me a sleeping pill. 30 sleeping pills, actually.
"Men just aren't the same today,"
I hear every mother say
They just don't appreciate that you get tired
They're so hard to satisfy. You can tranquilize your mind
So go running for the shelter of a mother's little helper
And four help you through the night, help to minimize your plight.
And so, Thursday night I anxiously cracked open my $45 dollar prescription, and dumped out a palmfull of the tiniest medication I've ever laid my eyes on. Seriously, kids, we're talking grains of sand. Okay, grains of really big grainy sand. I stuck one to the tip of my finger and poured the rest in and then read the warning labels, while carefully balancing my sand grain pill on my finger. "May cause drowsiness" Heh. "Take on an empty stomach" Curious. I tried to remember when I had last eaten, and decided if i couldn't remember, I couldn't possibly be full, right? "Do no operate heavy machinery" They must mean things like dishwashers and vacuums, I'm certain of it. I wiped the little pill onto my tongue and drank some juice and settled in for a blissful night's sleep in which i have "devoted at minimum 7-8 hours" as per directions. it was going to be bliss I just knew it.
"Things are different today,"
I hear ev'ry mother say
Cooking fresh food for a husband's just a drag
So she buys an instant cake and she burns her frozen steak
And goes running for the shelter of a mother's little helper
It did work, I was out pretty quick. Unfortunately, when I awoke in agony two hours later I was much too groggy to be able to roll my sorry self over, and too out of it to coordinate any sort of movement, so I laid there half heartedly attempting to flop, all the while feeling like I was made of a water balloon. Eventually, I decided comfort was over rated, and went back to sleep. To my dismay, though, I was awake again in another hour or so, having to pee, like always. This time I couldn't ignore it, and made my mind up to get myself to the bathroom. It was an event. Did you know that hardwood floors turn into jello at night? And the walls coat themselves with some slick substance that makes leaning on them impossible. And lightswitches move on their own. It seriously wasn't where I left it before I went to bed. Once that was discovered, I proceeded to marvel at just how soft the bathmat was under my feet, and then contemplated going to sleep just sitting on the toilet, because it was THAT comfortable. But my mother stormed the bathroom, demanding to know what "in the hell I was doing" and put me back in bed.
Life's just much too hard today,"
I hear ev'ry mother say
The pursuit of happiness just seems a bore
No more running to the shelter of a mother's little helper
What a drag it is getting old.
And though she's not really ill
There's a little yellow pill
She goes running for the shelter of a mother's little helper
And it helps her on her way, gets her through her busy day.
Last week I had a doctor's appointment, at which I brought up the fact that I'm 99.9% sure that the baby is systematically gnawing my right hip into oblivion. Not wanting to appear to be quite the whiner that I am in real life, I added that I'm okay during the day, for the most part, but since I fell down my front porch steps (did I mention that? Slipped right down them. Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. Very embarassing) the pain at night while I was trying to fall asleep was keeping me up, and as a result, I was being a very grouchy girl and the dog and my husband cowered in fear constantly. I was hinting I wanted a pain killer....some sort of a tylenol3, or something with codeine, maybe. Instead she gave me a sleeping pill. 30 sleeping pills, actually.
"Men just aren't the same today,"
I hear every mother say
They just don't appreciate that you get tired
They're so hard to satisfy. You can tranquilize your mind
So go running for the shelter of a mother's little helper
And four help you through the night, help to minimize your plight.
And so, Thursday night I anxiously cracked open my $45 dollar prescription, and dumped out a palmfull of the tiniest medication I've ever laid my eyes on. Seriously, kids, we're talking grains of sand. Okay, grains of really big grainy sand. I stuck one to the tip of my finger and poured the rest in and then read the warning labels, while carefully balancing my sand grain pill on my finger. "May cause drowsiness" Heh. "Take on an empty stomach" Curious. I tried to remember when I had last eaten, and decided if i couldn't remember, I couldn't possibly be full, right? "Do no operate heavy machinery" They must mean things like dishwashers and vacuums, I'm certain of it. I wiped the little pill onto my tongue and drank some juice and settled in for a blissful night's sleep in which i have "devoted at minimum 7-8 hours" as per directions. it was going to be bliss I just knew it.
"Things are different today,"
I hear ev'ry mother say
Cooking fresh food for a husband's just a drag
So she buys an instant cake and she burns her frozen steak
And goes running for the shelter of a mother's little helper
It did work, I was out pretty quick. Unfortunately, when I awoke in agony two hours later I was much too groggy to be able to roll my sorry self over, and too out of it to coordinate any sort of movement, so I laid there half heartedly attempting to flop, all the while feeling like I was made of a water balloon. Eventually, I decided comfort was over rated, and went back to sleep. To my dismay, though, I was awake again in another hour or so, having to pee, like always. This time I couldn't ignore it, and made my mind up to get myself to the bathroom. It was an event. Did you know that hardwood floors turn into jello at night? And the walls coat themselves with some slick substance that makes leaning on them impossible. And lightswitches move on their own. It seriously wasn't where I left it before I went to bed. Once that was discovered, I proceeded to marvel at just how soft the bathmat was under my feet, and then contemplated going to sleep just sitting on the toilet, because it was THAT comfortable. But my mother stormed the bathroom, demanding to know what "in the hell I was doing" and put me back in bed.
Life's just much too hard today,"
I hear ev'ry mother say
The pursuit of happiness just seems a bore
No more running to the shelter of a mother's little helper
What a drag it is getting old.
Wednesday, April 12, 2006
I had a dream...
Last night I had the most bizarre dream. This pregnancy has been full of odd dreams, but this one really got me, and I've been thinking about it all day while slaving over my petunia beds in the front yard.
I was walking in the woods with Evan, my parents and sister. It wasn't winter, because we weren't bundled up, but there was still bits of slushy snow in the shady spots, so early spring, maybe? We were walking in a row, my father leading, then my mother, my sister, I was behind her, and Evan was behind me.
I could smell the wet earth and leaves, and feel the soil squishing under my shoes. It was overcast, but the clouds were a very light grey, making things fairly bright. I was watching my sisters ponytail bob in front of me as she walked, and then the next thing I knew, my Aunt Jennie was beside me.
I was pretty upset, seeing as how she died in May 2002, and I looked to see if anyone else could see her, but my whole family was just walking along this path in the woods.
She started talking to me, I could feel her breath on my cheek, feel the curls of her hair brushing against mine. She told me my mom would have to go to the hospital in January, but not to worry, because it would be okay. She said that the baby would be here on the 1st of May, and that my Grandfather watched over me everyday to make sure she and I are both okay. She said "Even" (She always did call Evan that) was a good man, with a good heart, and he loved me more than he shows on most days. She told me she loved me, and to keep an eye out for my sister. And then she squeezed my arm and she wasn't there anymore.
So yeah. Weird. If she's born on the first, I'm probably going to have a heart attack.
I was walking in the woods with Evan, my parents and sister. It wasn't winter, because we weren't bundled up, but there was still bits of slushy snow in the shady spots, so early spring, maybe? We were walking in a row, my father leading, then my mother, my sister, I was behind her, and Evan was behind me.
I could smell the wet earth and leaves, and feel the soil squishing under my shoes. It was overcast, but the clouds were a very light grey, making things fairly bright. I was watching my sisters ponytail bob in front of me as she walked, and then the next thing I knew, my Aunt Jennie was beside me.
I was pretty upset, seeing as how she died in May 2002, and I looked to see if anyone else could see her, but my whole family was just walking along this path in the woods.
She started talking to me, I could feel her breath on my cheek, feel the curls of her hair brushing against mine. She told me my mom would have to go to the hospital in January, but not to worry, because it would be okay. She said that the baby would be here on the 1st of May, and that my Grandfather watched over me everyday to make sure she and I are both okay. She said "Even" (She always did call Evan that) was a good man, with a good heart, and he loved me more than he shows on most days. She told me she loved me, and to keep an eye out for my sister. And then she squeezed my arm and she wasn't there anymore.
So yeah. Weird. If she's born on the first, I'm probably going to have a heart attack.
Thursday, April 06, 2006
Tuesday, April 04, 2006
Who's in your hell?
General asshats
Circle I Limbo
Virginia Drivers
Circle II Whirling in a Dark & Stormy Wind
Scientologists
Circle III Mud, Rain, Cold, Hail & Snow
Holier-than-thou's
Circle IV Rolling Weights
Creationists
Circle V Stuck in Mud, Mangled
River Styx
The Gittens
Circle VI Buried for Eternity
River Phlegyas
Lawyers
Circle VII Burning Sands
Republicans
Circle IIX Immersed in Excrement
George Bush
Circle IX Frozen in Ice
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