NonCensus

Several days ago, we got a letter in the mail, stating that we would soon be receiving our 2010 census form, if we hadn't already gotten it.

The following day, we got our census to fill out. Being the responsible citizen that I am, I filled it out, and dropped it off at the post office that very day!

Yesterday, we received a post card, reminding me that I was legally obligated to fill out the census and return it. The census that I mailed back last week? That one? Oh. Just checking.

Am I the only one who feels that this is a blatant overkill and waste of tax payer money? Not to mention the amount of paper it used, delivering those useless "It's coming! Get ready!" and "fill it out or else!" letters.

I understand that if someone fails to reply, then an actual person has to go to the house, knock on the door, and fill it out themselves then and there. I get the overwhelming cost in that.

However, with the overwhelming publicity this census has been given (there is even a bilingual Dora commercial on the 24/7 kids channel exclaiming "Help your parents fill out their census forms! It will help bring new daycares and playgrounds to YOUR neighborhood!" Uh, seriously?) there was no need to waste money and resources on a warning mailer, which arrived the day before, if not the same day as, the census.

And since everything is barcode it, scan it, input it, over it, it certainly seems like it would be easy enough to wait more than a day after receiving the survey, and then send out a reminder to those who haven't yet responded.

I know the USPS is hurting for money and all...but really? Really?

Just checking.

Cooking with Saki

Happy St. Patty's Day, Blogfans! Put down your pint, because we're going to make a sweet treat in honor of the green holiday - Rainbow Cupcakes! I'll wait while you calm down; I was excited too.

Are you settled? Good.

If you've been imbibing in the Irish tradition of drinking yourself into a stupor, find a designated driver (and someone to supervise your oven use) and Erin Go Braugh yourself to the store to pick up:

1 box of white cake mix

Whatever your cake ix calls for (eggs, oil, etc)

1 box of food coloring

Cupcake wrappers

A lovely assistant

Grab your lovely assistant, and award 10 points to Gryffindor if she makes leprechaun faces while you make your Rainbow Cupcakes:

Follow the directions on the back of the box and whip up that mix. I'm not going to hold your hand through this one, Blogfans. Just do what the box tells you to do. once it's all mixed, separate into six small bowls. You'll want to use bowls slightly larger than the white ones shown, because it yielded quite the batter-y mess on my counters:

In the first bowl, add 9 drops red and 6 drops of blue food coloring

In the second bowl, add 12 drops of blue food coloring

In the third bowl, add 12 drops of green food coloring

In the fourth bowl, add 12 drops of yellow food coloring

In the fifth bowl, add 12 drops yellow and 4 drops of red food coloring

In the sixth bowl, add 18 drops of red food coloring (Love that red dye!)

Mix each bowl, respectively, until the color is even throughout:

Line your cupcake tin with wrappers and add a spoonful of the purple batter to the bottom of each wrapper. It might not cover the whole bottom, and that's okay, just make sure you get some in all of them. Follow suit with the ROY G BIV* rainbow (that's Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Blue, Indigo, Violet for all of you science slackers). Pop them in an oven that has been preheated to whatever your cake mix box says, and bake for the recommended amount of time. Again, consult the box. Also, don't mock my dirty oven. Dinner overfloweth last night:

Once they cool, top them with a delicious cloud of whipped cream, and some gold coins, if you're super fancy**.

* But omit indigo, since it's been banished from the rainbow and has gone to hang with Pluto in the land of Fun Things Scientists Have Done Away With

** Much to the dismay of my children, we are not super fancy.

Perspective

Just when the Caterpillar thought her world was over, she became a Butterfly

Ferocious Beasts

Just two pitbulls, living up to their savage reputation:

Weekend Rewind

Saturday night

Go to visit Lauren -> Decide to make a fire in the fireplace -> Neglect to open the chimney flue -> Fill the entire house with smoke -> Frantically fan the smoke alarm with tiny sheet of paper while Lauren carefully balances the poker in the flames to prop the flue open -> Step outside to enjoy a Parliament light while the smoke clears -> Lock ourselves out of the house -> Moment of panic when the situation survey turns up a lighter as our only asset to breaking in the house -> Finally jimmy open a crawl space window and shove Lauren inside -> Back inside it is discovered that Harry Potter is on TV -> Decide God loves us -> Burn a whole bag of microwave popcorn -> Maybe we were wrong about the God thing -> Decide baking cookies would be tempting fate on an already dark day and opt to give another bag of popcorn a try -> Relax into Harry Potter bliss

Sunday Afternoon

Load the Hubbin', children, and 100lb black and white dog into the car -> Drop Hubbin' off for a haircut -> Get to the groomer and wrangle dog and children into the shop -> Realize I have no proof of rabies vaccination with me -> FML -> wrangle kids and dog back into the car -> drive home -> wrangle kids and dog into the house -> Tear things apart until I find the rabies tag -> wrangle kids and dog back into the car -> Drive to groomer -> wrangle kids and dog back into the groomer, only to present a dog license, not a rabies tag -> FML -> wrangle kids and dog back to the car -> drive home -> wrangle kids and dog into the house -> Tear things apart again until the rabies tag is found -> wrangle kids and dog back into the car -> Drive to groomer -> wrangle kids and dog back into the groomer -> hold 100lb pitbull still for ear cleaning and nail cutting -> wrangle kids and dog back to the car -> Drive home -> Drop dog off -> Pick up Hubbin' from his haircut -> Bring Lucas for his haircut -> Go to WalMart -> FML -> Wait in like for 45 minutes to pay for my $5 laundry basket

I don't know whether to be hopeful for Monday, or exceptionally fearful

It's all relative

Winter is the season in which people try to keep the house as warm as it was in the summer, when they complained about the heat. ~Author Unknown

A Life in Photos

After one failed attempt, we here at the Costa Casa are attempting to resurrect Chia Obama head. I, Saki, do hereby vow to water and tend to said head.

I carefully read the instructions, soaking the head for an hour (okay, okay, it was like four hours. I forgot about him. Not off to a good start), and soaked the seeds for just as long. For those of you who have never known the joy of owning a Chia, the seeds look something like poppy seeds, and when submerged in water turn into a gelatinous mass that is not dislike the products of a nasty headcold. Once you've made this rather disgusting connection in your mind, it's time to spread the seeds onto the head, which is grooved for your convenience. The helpful directions suggest using a knife, but obviously the author of said directions has never actually tried to use a knife to spread the seeds. Use your fingers. It's gross, I know, but do you want this Chia to grow, or not?

Chia Obama Day One:

As you can see, I did a spectacular job of evenly spreading the seeds across grooved Obama's head. At this point, I took the time to actually read the directions on the back of the seed packet, to try to spot the error of my past Chia growing ways. The seeds told me to "tent" the head with plastic, but "DO NOT, WE REPEAT DO NOT UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCE, EVEN IF THERE IS A FIRE OR ZOMBIE INVASION, LET THE PLASTIC TOUCH THE SEEDS!" Okay then. Loose plastic it is. A quart size storage bag from our good friends at Ziplock seemed to fit nicely. I double checked to make sure the seeds were properly hydrated, and stuck him in a sunny spot.

Chia Obama Day Two:

Will we fail again? Will Chia Obama head rise out of the ashes like a phoenix sprouting a luxurious head of whatever it is Chia seeds sprout into? Stay tuned, kids, for the next episode of A Life in Photos

Echoes

You know what drives me insane? When I get a song stuck in my head. Particularly when it swirls around my head for days at a time and I have no idea what the words are. It makes it impossible to sing and pick off of your brain.

So you can sing all day in your head with me, have a listen to this:

But being the generous blog writer that I am, I'm posting the lyrics, so we can learn together, and the next time you see me, I expect to do a stunning duet with you, Blogfans

Istanbul was Constantinople
Now it's Istanbul, not Constantinople
Been a long time gone, Constantinople
Now it's Turkish delight on a moonlit night

Every gal in Constantinople
Lives in Istanbul, not Constantinople
So if you've a date in Constantinople
She'll be waiting in Istanbul

Even old New York was once New Amsterdam
Why they changed it I can't say
People just liked it better that way

So take me back to Constantinople
No, you can't go back to Constantinople
Been a long time gone, Constantinople
Why did Constantinople get the works?
That's nobody's business but the Turks

Istanbul (Istanbul)
Istanbul (Istanbul)

Even old New York was once New Amsterdam
Why they changed it I can't say
People just liked it better that way

Istanbul was Constantinople
Now it's Istanbul, not Constantinople
Been a long time gone, Constantinople
Why did Constantinople get the works?
That's nobody's business but the Turks

So take me back to Constantinople
No, you can't go back to Constantinople
Been a long time gone, Constantinople
Why did Constantinople get the works?
That's nobody's business but the Turks

In the name of the Father, the Son, and

the Holy Toast!

It's a grain MIRACLE!

In dreams, we enter a world that's entirely our own

Confession time!

Confession #1- I love Harry Potter. In a slightly maniacal obsessive way. I started the series in mid November of this past year, and finished the last book on Christmas (as Santa was so thoughtful as to bring me the entire series!) It was roughly 4200 pages of reading, and I love every word.

Confession #2- I used to mock those who were infatuated with the Harry Potter series. The first encounter I had with a real fan was my Aunt Janet. I was in college and ZooMASS, and had gone to Boston to visit* my Aunt and Uncle. I had a book I was reading with me, and my Aunt said "I'm reading Harry Potter, it's one of the most wonderful books I've ever read. You should read it, I think you'd like it." I snubbed the idea. Wizardry and fantasy worlds didn't appeal to me, and besides, it was a childrens book. The thought of adults milling around Borders at midnight waiting for the new release in robes, with sticks whittled into wands and lightening bolts emblazoned on their heads just made me laugh. Where do those people come from?

What a silly girl I was.

Fast Forward to Present: A near and dear friend, whose literary opinion I value greatly insisted I give the books a whirl. I checked the first one out of the library, and it sat on my nightstand until it was due back. Feeling sorry for the book, I renewed my time with it, and a few nights later lo and behold there was nothing on TV and I had exhausted every single amusing thing on the interwebs, so I cracked open The Sorcerers Stone.

I stayed up all night reading that book. All night. I finally finished the book at almost four in the morning. It sucked me in. I couldn't put it down if I wanted to. It was literary crack.

The Hubbin' ridiculed me the next morning as I nursed my third cup of coffee. He sounded much like my pre-Harry Potter self. "You're such a NERD. Those books are for CHILDREN."

And so began my torrid love affair with the series. The Hubbin', who has never been much of a reader, and hasn't read a book for pleasure since...well....ever, was hesitantly eyeing up the first book after I declared that I wasn't watching the movies with him unless he read the series.

"Reading hurts my head," he told me. "I just can't get into it," "Why do I have to read the books? The movies are probably just as good," he said.

But still, he started. And hasn't stopped since. And it just warms my black heart to see him laying in bed with a book at night. Naturally, I used this opportunity to let my inner dork shine through, and as he was embedded into the second book, I carefully staged this in the shower for him to find when he got ready for work the next day:

The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the Heir....Beware

I'm already trying to convince him to go as Bellatrix Lestrange and Voldemort for Halloween. And yes, that is my three year old daughters red Elmo bathtub paint that I used.

* Visit: Euphemism for going to eat all their food and abuse their washing machine with seven weeks worth of laundry

Pass the tissues

Seeing as how I've acquired the Death Plague of 2010* I felt it imperative to make a partial list of my last will and testament.

I, Saki, being of (somewhat?) sound mind and body bequeath:

all of my yarn and knitting supplies, and my chia Obama head to the Lovely Lauren

all of my fantastic shoes and my wardrobe to LAN

all of my debts to George W Bush (Love ya, Dubs!)

all of my Harry Potter books to my Hubbin' (don't watch the movies without me!)

all of my lawn ornamentation, including concrete donkeys to my mother

all three parakeets to Rike and Myan, because God knows once I'm gone no one will remember to feed them

*Or the flu. One of the two.

ZzzzZZzzzzz

Did you ever have one of those nights where the sleep Gods just shine on you?

You get into your bed which seems extra soft; your pillows feel extra fluffy; the house is warm enough to be cozy, but cool enough to snuggle deep into your blankets; somehow the bed seems 10" wider, so that you and your significant other are close enough to be secure, but far enough away that no ones arm is draped over the others forehead and everyone has enough room for their legs; your mind is pleasantly at ease, and slipping into sleep is like wading into a deliciously warm bath...

Except an hour into your perfect sleep night, someone small in the next room throws up. And then starts shrieking as you clean hair, sheets and floor. Shrieking loud enough that the even smaller person in the adjacent room wakes up and also begins shrieking as your clomp down the stairs, an armload of smelly sheets and jammies in your arms. By the time you get everyone settled, cooling blotchy tear streaked faces, offering sips of water and gingerale and rubbing backs until the house is once again quiet.

So you slide in socked feet back to your perfect sleep.

Except now some bogart has replaced your bed with a sack filled with rocks; and the fluffy down feathers from your pillows are poking though the case and scratching your ears; the house is fifteen degrees warmer than it needs to be and your significant other is laying half on top of you, snoring noisily with morning breath. But at that point, you're just too exhausted to care and you drift off to sleep wondering if you remembered to pay the bills online last week, and if you locked your car.

I effing hate when that happens.

Twenty Ten

I guess I'm not off to a very good blogging start. Good thing I didn't make some sort of asinine resolution about it, lest we have another NoBloWriMo fiasco.

New posts coming soon, BlogFans. Hang in there!

It's two in the mornin' and the party 's still goin'

See more funny videos and Music Videos at Today's Big Thing.

Go Saki, it's your Birfday!

Happy Birthday to me, dear BlogFans!

My Hubbin' is notoriously bad at remembering my birthday. He usually pulls out lines like "I knew when your birthday was, I just didn't realize it was today!"

This year, however, he was quite pleased with himself, having not only remembered my birthday on the correct day, but also having a card and gift in hand. The gift was small and thoughtful, I enjoyed it. But what really made me Ell-oh-Ell was the card:

"But it was in the birthday section!" he complained. Before I had a chance to take a picture of the unaltered card, he penned in "OF YOUR BIRTH" beneath "HAPPY ANNIVERSARY TO MY WIFE"

Ah, menfolk. Such entertainment they are.

That's Stupid Comments for $1,000

Alex Trebeck: I hear you have quite a tradition with your husband

Female Jeopardy Contestant: Yes, we have a love note that we pass back and forth and leave it in special places for each other

Jemma: That's like me and Evan*!!! Except with a lug nut!

Saki: He said LOVE NOTE, you ass.

* My sister and my Hubbin' have a long standing Christmas tradition of hiding a chestnut in annoying places. it is the goal of each to be the one without the chestnut when they part ways. Jemma is the current holder of the chestnut

Away in the Manger

This is a total pet peeve of mine, and probably shouldn't be, seeing as how I'm probably going to hell and all, but it's my blog and I thought I'd just throw it out there.

Obviously, I'm not a devout Catholic. I'm not even remotely good at being Catholic. I eat meat like a carnivore on all the wrong days, I continually forget about lent, and I don't remember the last time I've been to confession.

But I've been to CCD, I know what's up. I learned it all like I was supposed to.

And I learned that baby Jesus does not go in the effing manger until Christmas! What don't you people get? He's not born yet. He doesn't belong in there. Knock yourselves out with your sheeps and donkeys and all the wise men you can handle (though really, I'd only recommend three. Any more would be kind of tacky), but leave Jesus out of there until at least Christmas.

You guys remember the story right?

Mary was like "oh em gee, I'm having a baby." and the Inn was all like "Sorry dude, we're all booked go birth your God child in the barn*." So she did. And Jesus was born on Christmas. Hence, you know, the celebration and stuff.

So if you put a little baby in the manger at home, where exactly is Jesus supposed to sleep?

So as your decking your halls and walls and lawns and whatever else you choose to deck, for the love of God (no pun intended) keep Jesus out of there until Christmas. Ask yourself WWJS**?

Thank you and goodnight.

* See? This is exactly why I'm going to hell.

** Where Would Jesus Sleep, obviously.

No Mo' Blo Mo

This is the end
Beautiful friend
This is the end
My only friend, the end

Of our elaborate plans, the end
Of everything that stands, the end
No safety or surprise, the end
I'll never look into your eyes again

Can you picture what will be
So limitless and free
Desperately in need of some stranger's hand
In a desperate land

Well, blogfans, it's been real. Thirty posts in thirty days. I am SO happy tomorrow is December.

Looks like someone has a case of the Mondays

I kind of think that dark, rainy, cold Mondays should be recognized as God trying to tell us to have a nap. And really, who are we to mess with the word of God?

Let the chaos begin

The house is in a state of evolution from Thanksgiving to Christmas. Sometimes, I swear I'm the only nut who decorates for Thanksgiving. I can't help it, I enjoy the fall decor, the pumpkins, the cornucopias, the spicy sweet smelling candles in oranges and burgundy.

But it's time to switch gears, and head into the Christmas season. Which aside from the normal tree hunting (which happens tomorrow!), and outdoor lights (which I have no part of), I also feel the need to clear out the china hutch, and replace the Waterford china with Christmas china. As if that wasn't enough, I also replace our everyday dishes with Christmas dishes. This, naturally, means that all Christmas dishes must be run on a quick rinse cycle through the dishwasher, all china needs to be wiped down and packed up. All in all, it's a very involved process that the Hubbin' rolls his eyes at.

As it stands right now, there are Christmas decorations in boxes from one end of the house to the other. Decorations silently pleading to be put away before sticky toddler hands break them.

So far, the going is rough. I'm still not quite recovered from famiglia, and I'm certainly not recovered from black friday shopping (which, have I mentioned lately was a total bust? I'm so peeved). Though I have high hopes for finishing up my shopping during cyber Monday and the Bizarre Bazaar.

It's not even December, yet? Why do I have this overwhelming panic that things won't get done in time? Why?