His mother's son...

Setting: The dinner table. We are having fish tacos. All the fixin's are on the table. Off to the side, there is also a plate of chocolates that Rich brought home from work...

We ask Grant to say grace:
"God is great, God is gurd, lettus thankem for our food. Aayy-men....
Please pass the chocolates!"

Shopping really IS an adventure.

The company that owns Linens N Things is reorganizing. The store by Mom's house is being closed down. She called me before yesterday's earthquake to tell me about the great deals she was getting, as the Corona store is pretty much one giant clearance sale.

Great deals on tablecloths? I need some too!

High thread count sheet sets for pennies on the dollar? Aw man! Why can't my Linens N Things shut down too??!!

Towels!?? Oh I desperately need new towels!

No problem! Mom writes down my wish list and says she'll head back over to the store and shop for me. (Mom is awesome.) She calls once to inquire about my color preferences.

Then the earthquake hits.

Once things stop shaking and we determine that the house is not going to collapse on us, I grab my cell to call Mom to make sure she's OK. (Land lines were not immediately working). I managed to get through to her before everyone else jammed the network.

"Are you OK, Mom?"
"Oh yes, fine. Wasn't that something!? Hey, what color towels would you like?"

After hanging up with her, I try to call Rich in his office (on the 7th floor of a glass paneled building, where his desk is close to the window, so he can have a nice view). Can't get through to his office or cell. The cell towers in Chino Hills (the epicenter) were somehow damaged in the quake.

About 15 minutes later, a call from an out of state friend comes in on my cell. I answer it, assuming she's calling to check in on us after hearing about the quake.

That assumption would be wrong.

Unable to make a call to a local number from the store, Mom called someone from out of state and asked her to call me and tell me that I needed to call my mother again.... She was still at Linens N Things and had another question about color and thread count.

A good bargain is a good bargain... and in a down economy, even Acts Of God can't deter a shopper who has found a good white sale.

Hey Dave! Welcome to California!

You know, I'd been meaning to plan something exciting to do while Dave was here, but didn't have any good ideas.

Mother Nature took care of the excitement for me. 5.4 earthquakes centered 25 miles away make for a lively conversation topic. A little somethin' he can tell the folks back home about!

Pictures off of shelves, cupboard doors and drawers opened up, but no damage. The worst part? I broke my own rules and don't have a full gas tank or enough water stored for everyone in the household to last 3 days.

Markleeville Wrap-Up

We had an awesome trip! I'm not sure if it's exactly what the WoJos had expected, but our trip was sure enhanced by them being there. My good friend Dave (Grant's godfather) came along as well. I think it was his first camping trip... it was definitely his first over-night in a tent. My parents and Raelene came up, and we had Devin's friend, Michael, too.

Highlights:

The rock slide. As a kid, I wore out many a bathing suit sliding down this rock in the creek. It is so great to see my kids doing it too.

Discovering new waterfalls. (Well, new to us.) We used to take The Waterfall Hike and we'd get to the first set of falls, eat a granola bar and turn around and go back to camp. This trip brought out the explorer in everyone and new waterfalls and swimming holes were discovered. So much fun that they went twice!

Fry Night. We had never had fried Twinkies before. Thanks to the WoJos! Clogging my arteries never tasted so good!

Grant found two feathers and climbed on a rock and tried to fly.

The kids made their own ice cream in this little roly-poly ice cream maker. It went great with the apple pie that Rich made in his dutch oven.

To get a better view of any of these, click on the picture. To see all the photos, click here.

Road Rage, set to music.

Dave and I just caught a matinee of Mamma Mia. All I can say is that the world would be a better place if people spontaneously burst into song and everyone magically knew the choreography.

For example, I did not flip off the guy who tailgated me on the way home, even though I really wanted to. (I try not to piss off people who have skulls all over their vehicles...) In a Mamma Mia world, we would have pulled over and had a dance off. Not sure which ABBA song we'd sing though.

You can't make this stuff up.

We're such good neighbors! Any one of you would be darn lucky to live near us!

Thursday night: We come home from camping and begin unloading perishables from the trailer with banging noises, dropping things, boys too loud and parents loudly whispering "ssshhh!"

Friday: More unloading of the trailer, our washer and dryer running 24/7, sapping the energy from the grid (14 loads of laundry!) and more banging, dropping and sliding as we put things away.

Saturday: More banging and scraping noises as the gear is cleaned and put away. Screeching noises from me as I implore the boys and my husband to hurry up! (Why? Because we are hosting a surprise birthday dinner for 14 people for Ernie's birthday that evening.) (I love pressure!) There were several items that did not get put away and we ended up needing to put them around the corner of our patio, out of sight.

Saturday night: Good party (even if Ernie wasn't surprised) and we were on the patio until midnight. (Very late for us, and for our neighbors!)

Sunday: We cleaned up the party remnants. Banging, scraping, screeching, de-construction. The camping gear that had been moved out of sight, stayed right where it was. Sunday is a day of rest.

Sunday night: Nice, simple dinner. All the windows and doors open to take advantage of the evening ocean breeze as we all watched a movie. (Pan's Labyrinth - I finally got Rich to watch it! Yay)

Suddenly, our quiet movie time was interrupted by a hissing sound coming from our back yard... sounded a lot like sprinklers running. Rich jumped up to see what was wrong. (Corsa came slinking towards him with the Guilty Lip Thing.) That dumb dog got into the camping gear and somehow got Rich's pepper spray. Pepper spray for bears. Bears. (Stronger than pepper spray for people? I don't know. Probably.)

There was a cloud of pepper spray mist settling over our yard. And being sucked into our house. We had every window and door open, some with fans pulling the air in to the house. We frantically ran around closing them, but it was too late. Rich tried spraying the cloud with water to dampen it down, and it helped a little. We all tumbled out onto the front porch to get some fresh air.

As we sat there, coughing, we saw two bicyclists riding by our house. On the opposite side of the street. Their bikes developed the wobbles and they began coughing too. "Oh my eyes!" "It smells like a chemical or something!" Oh, we are sucky neighbors. My friend, Dave, has been visiting and he will probably never come to visit again.

I'm sure our neighbors are wondering if we've started a meth lab, using child labor.

Corsa? The pepper spray did not affect her at all. Nothing. Rich better have a Plan B if he ever meets a bear.

Road-kill is funny. Who knew?

One of my favorite Grant moments from our camping trip:

Setting #1: the road into the campground - There are two chipmunks that have met an unfortunate end under the wheels of someone's RV. We hurry past them on the way back from the creek. "Oh, poor chipmunks" as we quickly scoot Grant past the carnage. (and flies. ew)

Setting #2: a little later, at our campsite - Grant and Uncle Dave are watching the critters sneak up and steal Corsa's dog food while she sleeps.

Uncle Dave: "Oh look at that Blue Jay! Here comes a squirrel. There's another squirrel. Oh! Here comes a chipmunk!"

Grant: "That's not a chipmunk."

Uncle Dave: "Yes, the fat one is a squirrel, the little one is a chipmunk."

Grant: "No it's not! Chipmunks are FLAT!"

My freezer is in the Bermuda Triangle today.

Are you frikkin' kidding me?!

Perfect timing!

I had hoped I was just tired and that this was a hallucination. Sadly, no. No it wasn't.

Ever seen what happens when you try to quickly chill beers in the freezer and then forget about them?

Now you have. The worst part? I'm the one who put them in and forgot them in there. Ugh.

I wanted you to use clean clothes!

The directions: Get dressed please.

Two great ways to tell if your child fished yesterday's clothes out of his laundry hamper:

1. Pizza sauce and chocolate on the shoulder of the shirt, from where he wiped his mouth at dinner last night.


2. Shorts are on inside out, and are so dirty you can see the dirt through the material.

I'm completely rational, until I'm not.

It's time for Markleeville! One of my favorite places on the planet, and the site of our annual camping trip. Lots of hullabaloo around here and things have been more hectic than usual. I'll be a calm, relaxed person once I get there... it's the getting there that can stress me out:

Picture all of the organizing, shopping, packing and staging needed for a week of tent camping. And making sure the house is clean for my friend Chris, who will be house-sitting. And doing it while 4 boys are underfoot. And waiting for my husband to load the cargo trailer the night before we leave. (Estimated departure time: 4:00 in the morning) I am not allowed to get a head start on this because Rich is very particular about weight distribution.

My fear (which helps to create Screechy Mommy) is that we will still be loading the trailer at 1:00 in the morning and I don't do well without sleep. Even though Rich drives the entire way (me + pulling a trailer = road hazard) I can't sleep in the car, because we will crash if I am not awake and watching the road. I know. I can't help it though. (I also refuse to step on grates in the sidewalk for fear they'll give out and I'll fall into a sewer or something.) I know, I know.

So - My energy is running out, I'm already tired and cranky, and will be getting in a car with 5 kids (Despite Devin's 11th hour invitation, Michael is coming with us) plus a dog... for 10 hours. Not to be pessimistic, but I'm going to post this on the dashboard to remind myself not to do anything rash:

And I'll relax when I get there. See ya next week!

Some people count sheep... some count dogs.

The directions: Get ready for bed.

The result:

You shouldn't neglect your gums.

And you shouldn't leave dental floss where a 4 year old can find it.
Perhaps he was fishing for sharks?

Please die somewhere else.

I love this site.

True Dat

My brother in-law, Jayson, just emailed this to me and I totally cracked up.

Score one for Devin.

"Hey Mom, I found an error on your blog: Is my is glass half empty...?"

Remove the "ed" and add an "o" - that'll be me really soon.

I just picked Mitchell up from soccer camp. He has been on vacation with his mother and we haven't seen him for almost 2 weeks. He seems older and taller, and has come back to us with his New Trendy Word of the Moment: psyched.

If I wanted to use this word in a sentence, I would say:
RIGHT THIS MOMENT - "I'm really psyched that Mitch is home!"

BY THIS AFTERNOON - "I'm psyched that some of my old 80's slang is coming back into circulation."

BY BEDTIME - "I'll be really psyched when Mitchell is done abusing this word."

Is the phrase "like a broken record" still applicable in an mp3 world?

I never did get my funnel cakes.

Rich and I had a date last night. We went to see Chris Isaak at the Orange County Fair. (He was awesome!) Vanessa Carlton opened for him. (She? Not so awesome.) We saw lots of the people and things you'd expect at a Fair... crying kids in strollers, fat women in clothing that is waaaay too skimpy, sunburns, fried everything on a stick.... people who will later regret that they spent $30 in quarters in order to win a big, cheap, stuffed animal worth about $2.

However, some of the other things we saw were almost as entertaining as the concert:

• Silicon enhanced women of the OC, with big, sparkly diamonds, designer tank tops and tattoos. Sort of like Biker Barbie.
• Women who thought the Fair was a more formal occasion, with heels and nice dresses. Or they got lost while heading to a wedding.
• A large, crazy woman who also thought the Fair was a more formal occasion and wore chunky, high heeled loafers with ankle socks; a black mini skirt and tank top with a glittery silver scarf over the top of that, wrapped around her like a sarong. Also a large crystal and rhinestone necklace that may or may not have once been part of a chandelier.
• Brave and foolish people who paid $13 for a plastic bucket (it's a souvenir too!) of sliced potatoes that had been beer-battered and fried. (I include my husband in this group.)
• Foolish people who paid $5 for 4 battered, deep fried Oreos. (I include myself in this group.)
• Teenagers wearing such stupid outfits that I wonder if Eminem and K-Fed had an unholy union that somehow produced offspring.
• A middle aged man hanging out of a Mercedes, braying like a donkey. Upon closer inspection, we discovered it wasn't that he had spent too much time at the petting zoo, but rather, too much time at the beer garden. ew.

Ah, the OC.

Money may not be able to buy class or good taste, but it will pay for your angioplasty.

Camping: NOT a spontaneous activity.

We're getting ready to go on our annual camping trip. We leave before the crack of dawn on Saturday the 19th and come back the evening of Thursday the 24th. It is a 10 hour drive each way. We camp in tents and pack in just about everything but water. It takes a wee bit of planning.

"Why don't you invite your friend Michael to go with us?" we suggest to Devin (2 weeks ago!) He is old enough to do this himself and then let the parents work out the minutiae of the details.

He remembered to call Michael. Yesterday.

Michael's mom called me, laughing, and relayed the message Devin left on their answering machine. (Yesterday)

"Yeah, hey Michael, it's Devin. We're going camping, do you want to go? We have stuff for fishing and s'mores. We're going, um, I think the 18th through the, um 22nd. So, um, if you want to go camping, let me know by the 18th. Later."

Chip grease! The better furniture polish!

You are almost 16 years old. You are taller than your mother. You don't understand why your mom gets all screechy for no reason. You have just eaten your weight in tortilla chips.

The preferred method for cleaning greasy hands is:

a) thoroughly washing them with soap and water.

b) making an attempt to wipe them clean with a napkin.

c) trying to smear the grease off of your hand and onto the furniture while your mother is not only watching you, but she is talking to you.

The answer is not c.

Somtimes unique and embarrassing are the same thing.

Finally! Instead of picking something from the Wacky Made Up Crazy Baby Name Book, a celeb couple has named their baby girl something nice without being boring.

If you want to surprise your wife, it really helps if she's unconcious.

My wonderful husband surprised me with a birthday dinner at one of my favorite restaurants last night. Our friends Ernie & Raquel and Brett & Laurie were waiting for us when we came in. It was such a nice surprise, especially since things have been really hectic and stressful.

Rich is very fortunate that "hectic and stressful" worked to his advantage to get me to the dinner. Earlier in the day I asked him are you sure you want to go out? I was fine with staying home. Yep! We're going out on a date! We took our boys to Ernie & Raquel's because they were going to hang out there while Rich and I went out.

My mind has been so on overload, that I missed it when Devin said "hey aren't the WoJos going out with you?" I also missed it when Conner apparently made even more of a scene trying to shush him and remind him that it was a secret. It didn't make sense that Raquel's hair looked really cute, even though I knew she'd been at the beach all day! I missed it when their Conner shouted "I thought you guys were going with them?!" as we went out their front door.

I also missed all of the stalling techniques that were employed.

Instead of heading off for our "date" at Taco Surf (super low-key!) Rich says he'd like to make a stop on Memory Lane and get an ice cream sundae from McDonald's drive-thru... just like we did in high school. Before dinner?! Um. OK. Nope, I don't want my own... I'll just share some of yours. Even when stressed and crazy, I would never be one to stop my husband if he got on a sentimental tangent. I love those!

However, I do not love it when he takes the longest, most indirect route to get places. I usually like to get from point A to point B. Period. I don't like spontaneous visits at points C through Z. (Note: this perspective applies only to travel. It does not apply to conversation or writing. Obviously.)

I've seen Long Beach... I know the routes to Taco Surf. PCH...? Great. Thanks for taking one that is longer AND more congested. Fine. I'm going to be calm and, as Rich requested, let him pilot the car and the evening. Breathe in, breathe out - smile. I am making a concerted effort to remind myself that I'm hanging out with my husband. Alone. How often does that happen!? Enjoy just being with him. (So what that there are no chips and salsa, and that I'm not holding a beer. So what that my Baja fish tacos are not getting any closer.)

"Hey! That's the Best Buy where I bought the boys' Wii! Wanna stop in and look around?" Um. Sure? (I'm thinking about how Taco Surf is going to have a line out the door by the time we get there, but yeah, we do have that stupid hands-free cell phone law now, maybe a Bluetooth would be good....) We shop. We choose. We pay. Yaay! Taco Surf? Ugh. Not if he turns the wrong way in the parking lot.

"Hey, how about Tantalum? I mean, we're right here." I kind of had my mouth all set for fish tacos... What about the Acapulco right next door? No?... Because there are probably... noisy kids in there? OK. Under less foggy circumstances, I would have argued 'til the cows came home (and trashed our date!)

1. I'm not dressed for Tantalum.


2. Tantalum is a Pomegranate Martini night, not a beer night and Martini nights always ending up costing much more than beer nights.


3. No chips & salsa refills. (No chips & salsa at all!)


4. We've taken up an hour of our date time already with ice cream and electronics. And exploration. How long can we expect the WoJos to keep the boys?


5. Since when do noisy kids alter our plans?

However, I didn't have the energy or wits to be anything other than docile. In we go. I wondered why Rich was discussing specific times with the hostess when this was a spur of the moment decision. I was still wondering that when led to the table where our friends were waiting. Slow brain speed = good for surprises.

Great dinner, great company, great night.

Maybe the lesson for me is that I shouldn't try to control every little thing. Maybe my way isn't always the best way. Maybe I shouldn't get an attitude before I have all of the information.

Maybe.

But probably not.

Mike Update

Mike Brown has been released from the hospital after 13 days. He is going to be staying with his parents in Corona - not only closer to the hospital for his chemo and radiation treatments, but it's good that he will not be alone in an apartment during this process. He says he thinks he'll be starting treatment in the next two weeks. Thanks for your continued prayers for the Brown family.

Chew on this - puppyhood lasts Forever

This? This is the look of guilt.

Sometimes Guilty comes to you - slinking across the yard, lip curled, tail between her legs because she knows she is going to be in trouble once you see whatever it is she's done...

Other times, this look doesn't appear until you shake the ruined item at her with a low, disapproving, "nooooo! Bad girl!!"

This was taken in September of 2006. (Note how effective the dog deterrent spray was.)

This was taken 5 minutes ago:(click on the pictures for close-up views of the destruction.)

The Great Blackout of 1997... or... Why All Bad Things Can Be Traced Back To Chuck E. Cheese

In a previous post I mentioned The Great Blackout of 1997, and that it was a story for another time. Now is that time. If you are from the "short and succinct" tribe... come back later. (This almost certainly includes my darling Rich.) You "long and verbose" people, come with me.

In the Spring of 1996 I was certain that I was eligible to be a guest on Jerry Springer. I was a stay at home mom to 3 and a half year old Devin, pregnant with Conner, was in Vancouver (1,000 miles from family and friends) and my then-husband had a mid-life crisis and left to follow his bliss. And apparently, a co-worker.

Conner was born in November, and within 2 weeks the boys and I were on a plane to stay with my parents for some moral support. The original plan was for us to stay through Christmas (because really - how depressing would it be? Alone with 2 small kids, far from family on Christmas morning?) My parents were great. My sister and her then-husband were great. (Yes, I know. My mother is the only Overstreet girl who only got married once. What ev.)

As we fell into a nice routine, the weather reports coming in from the Pacific Northwest were ugly. Lots of snow and tons of freezing rain. Power outages, roads closed, etc. The more we heard about the weather, the more my mother began to beat the "Stay Here In Norco Because You Can't Be Up In That Horrible Weather With A Baby By Yourself, My Lord, What If The Power Goes Out? You And The Kids Will Freeze, You Can't Be Alone, You Shouldn't Drive Up There, Stay Here In Southern Cal's Good Weather So I Won't Worry About You" drum. And she beat on that drum long and often.

I considered her arguments:

• Yes, being in nice, mild weather is preferable to freezing rain any day.


• Having other adults around to help with the 2 little ones is a good idea, yes.


• She's right, if I lost power up there, I would have no heat source and couldn't cook, as everything was electric.

OK, fine. We decide I'll stay in California a bit longer. (What? I can be reasonable and pragmatic. Sometimes.) So by Christmas, I'd gotten things down pretty well. Conner was an easy baby, Devin was having a good time, things were cool. In January, my friends Bill & Jodi had a birthday party for their son, Adam, at Chuck E. Cheese and invited us to join them.

Let me say here and now, that there are several things I would rather do than go to Chuck E. Cheese. Those things would include: getting a pap smear, a root canal, cleaning the grout in the shower with bleach and a toothbrush, learning the hard way how to change a tire or opening 500 cans with a manual can-opener. There is a reason that Chuck E. Cheese serves alcohol. However, when you're a parent, you put your child's interests ahead of your own. (And I adore Bill & Jodi, so off we go.)

The Chuck E. Cheese date in question coincided with a weekend my parents would be out of town. No problem. (I'd gotten this kid thing down, remember?)

Will I also take my 5 year old niece, Raelene, when I go to Chuck E. Hell?
Sure! No problem.

Oh hey! The weather's looking kind of stormy...
No prob! It's Southern California, not the Wilds of the Pacific Northwest!

Will I be sure to take care of my dad's new puppy, Duke, while the folks are gone? (The one that he just got for Christmas? The one that he is finally emotionally ready to have after the tragic loss of the previous schnauzer, Larry?)
Of course I will!

So the Saturday of the party dawned dark and blustery. I packed up Devin, Raelene and 2 month old Conner, and began the 25 mile journey on slick California freeways. Nothing terribly noteworthy about our time at Chuck E. Satan, except that I did not imbibe (and I really wanted a beer!) and when it was time to go, my darling niece decided she was not ready to leave and hid from me. While hiding, she got herself lost in the Habitrail tubing of the play area. Employees had to send out search and rescue and slither through the tubes and fish her out. In the meantime, Devin lost his shoes.

By the time I herded my cats, er, children out to the parking lot and got them all strapped into their seats, it was dark and it was raining. Hard. As I began to pull out into traffic, I unwrapped a piece of gum and popped it into my mouth. Raelene, who could not hear me calling for her all throughout Chuck E. 7th Circle of Hell, develops bionic hearing when it comes to the tiny crackle of a Trident wrapper, heard over the roar of the rain, the radio and the windshield wipers.

"What-chu got Auntie Viv?"

"Nothing Rae, just a piece of gum."

"Can I have a piece?"

"Not now, wait until we get home because I can't reach my purse right now."

"I can reach your purse for you."

"No, because you'd have to unbuckle your seat belt to do it. Sit tight and I'll give you a piece when we get home."

As I white-knuckled it home on the 91, the rain has become a down-pour and I shared the road with complete idiots who didn't understand the basic equation of (high speed + slick roads + low visibility = multi-vehicle accident). As I finally got off of the freeway, I wondered whether of not you can actually burn up the little motor that moves the windshield wipers.

I let out a sigh of relief as I turned into my parents' driveway and hit the garage door opener. That's odd. The garage door went up about 2 feet and stopped. I hit the button again. Nothing. Hmm. Then I noticed that the lights from the car are the only lights ANYWHERE. The whole street is dark, except for the occasional cracks of lightning.

I pulled the keys from the ignition and hurried to see if I could get under the garage door without a spotter from Cirque du Soliel. Nope. On to the security gate where I fumbled for the right key in order to get into the courtyard. This had taken all of 30 seconds but I'm soaked to the skin. Racing back to the car, I unbuckled the big kids and yelled for them to hurry and get to the door. (No need to issue a puddle warning because the whole yard is a puddle). I grabbed Conner in his car seat and tried (in vain) to keep him dry as I raced to catch up to the kids.

At the back door I no longer had the benefit of the car lights to help me find the proper key and insert it into the lock. As I finally found The Key and twisted the lock open, I reminded the kids about Duke, the precious new puppy. As the words were coming out of my mouth, Devin pushed on the door, allowing a small, furry bullet to shoot out of the 6 inch gap and past our feet out into the rain. Now that we were technically home, Raelene remembered my promise: "So Auntie Viv, can I have that gum now?"

I plopped Conner's car seat just inside the door, pushed the other two in along with him, shouted instructions over my shoulder to "Stay put!" as I ran back into the rain, chasing the puppy (that my dad wasn't ready for, but now can't live with out) down the street. Duke either thought it was a game, didn't know to come when he's called, or he was afraid of the gibbering, hysterical woman chasing him through the rain. Not sure which.

Because he was in chest-high water while he was running, I was eventually able to catch Duke. Thank. God. I grabbed the little fur-ball and his 3 pounds of added water weight and ran back to the house to find Conner screeching and Devin and Raelene crying hysterically because they couldn't turn on the lights. Instead of staying put as instructed, they had gone through the nearby rooms, frantically trying the light switches, because surely one of those damn things must work! They couldn't all be broken, could they!? What the hell!? (Also? they knocked over a potted plant.) Thanks for the extra mud.

As a self proclaimed "reformed Catholic" my mom loves her candles. There should have been several dozen to choose from. However, only a few days after the holidays, the everyday candles were few and far between, as most had been replaced by her purely decorative (and heirloom) Christmas candles. (You know, in the shapes of angels and elves and Santas, that she'd had since her first Christmas with my dad... that still had teeth marks in them from where I gnawed on them as a baby...) So given a choice of lighting one of those Christmas candles or breaking a bone as I stumble through the dark? I'll take Plaster of Paris for $300, Alex.

OK, so candles were not an immediate option. However, there is a fireplace. And matches, dry firewood and a gas line. Fire lit... kids sitting near it. I'm off to look for flashlights.

Now flashlights should not be a problem. To listen to my mom talk, my parents are nothing if not prepared for an emergency. First aid kits, batteries and flashlights, bottled water, Tanqueray, toilet paper, lanterns.... I should be all set. Strangely enough, I can find several flashlights, but not a single one has any batteries in them. What. The. Hell?! I blindly pawed through drawers and closets. No batteries.

I finally remembered that the phone in their garage (in addition to having a DIAL instead of push buttons) is not reliant upon electricity since it isn't a portable phone. (Remember, most people did not have a cell phone in the mid-late 90s...) I called my parents at their relaxing weekend get-a-way in the mountains. I screech out my tale of woe (leaving out the part where the new puppy almost drowned in the street) and begged for directions to the emergency supplies, especially the batteries and the booze. My mother, Ms. Emergency Preparedness; Ms. You Need To Stay Down Here In The Nice Weather; drew in a big breath and said, "Oh gosh! I'm so sorry! The Christmas presents for the kids needed batteries and I didn't have any extras so I took them out of the flashlights... All of the flashlights."

I sat on the floor by the fire, pondered my decision to stay down in California (balmy California) as opposed to taking my chances back in Vancouver. A power outage is a power outage... but up there I would have only had two kids instead of three. I would have known where the flashlights, batteries and booze were kept. There would not have been a Precious Puppy to rescue and since I think candles are for burning, I would have been fine on that count too.

All three kids had (thank you God!) fallen asleep by the fire. After a few hours the power came back on: lights, alarm clocks, the stereo (left on so the puppy would have something to listen to) (I'm serious) and it was enough to wake Devin and Raelene.

Looking around her and realizing things seemed normal, Raelene turned to me: "Auntie Viv, NOW can I have that gum?!"

Climb Forest! Climb!

When the dog bites! When the bee stings! When he's feeling sad.... Grant wants to go right back out into the backyard. Thinking he's learned his lesson about self-preservation, I allow him to go back out there. It is immediately too quiet. Always suspicious.

He was scaling a 5' fence (on the street side of our yard) trying to gain footing on the diagonal cross-piece, while wiggling up to the top... within 30 seconds of going out the door.

No more exercise yard privileges without the warden present. (And she may or may not be packing a tazer from now on.)

So this bee and this dog form a support group...

You have just recently stopped crying after having been stung by a bee. You have had a baking soda bath and sat in the tub with a baking soda paste smeared onto the sting. Your mom has soothed you and explained to you why you should leave bees alone. You are once again dressed and ready for action.

Now should you:

a) join your brothers for the Wii tournament currently underway?

b) have some lunch like mom suggests?

c) read your books, watch a movie or play nicely with your toys?

d) go back outside, crawl into the doghouse (that you're not allowed to go into) and disturb an old, cranky, arthritic, sleeping Dalmatian... and then come bawling to mom because nature has once again turned on you, after literally not letting a sleeping dog lie?

The answer that will send mommy scrambling for her Xanax prescription?

That answer would be "d".

So this bee walks into a bar and orders a baking soda bath with a chaser of baking soda paste....

You're out playing in the yard (pretending to be a dog, of course) and a bee lands near you. Should you:

a) attempt to engage him in conversation, a la Bee Movie, and hope he sounds just like Jerry Seinfeld and that you will become best friends and launch a small business together?

b) sit down with him and have a heart to heart about why he is no longer putting little plastic toys in your box of Honey-Nut Cheerios?

c) try and catch him with your bare hands?

The answer is not c.

On second thought, just smile.

Parents: do not teach your child to say Cheese! when posing for a picture... because you'll get, well ....um ....cheese.

Jeez! QUIT your day job!!!

The very notion of an "anthem" promotes the idea that people can relate to it, that it resonates with them, that it identifies a particular movement or feeling or point of view. But not only that - (for me, anyway) the idea of an anthem suggests widespread understanding. Songs that practically the whole world can sing along to.

This guy's list of the top ten anthemic bands of all time is crap. I don't know how he got this job, but he's an idiot. (I like the Waterboys and the Arcade Fire too, but I'm betting most people aren't in the know!)
This is how the list should read:

1. Queen - We Will Rock You/We Are the Champions
2. U2 - Sunday Bloody Sunday
3. Lynyrd Skynyrd - Sweet Home Alabama
4. Nirvana - Smells Like Teen Spirit
5. the Beatles - Let It Be
6. the Doors - Light My Fire
7. the Rolling Stones - (I can't get no) Satisfaction
8. the Ramones - I Wanna Be Sedated
9. the Who - My Generation
10. Led Zeppelin - (tie) Rock and Roll / Stairway to Heaven

There are also some solo artists who need to be recognized for their anthemic contributions:

1. David Bowie - Changes
2. Elton John - (tie) Your Song / Goodbye Yellowbrick Road
3. Iggy Pop - Lust For Life
4. Tom Petty - American Girl
5. Aretha Franklin - Respect
6. Neil Diamond - Sweet Caroline
7. Bruce Springsteen - Born to Run
8. Pat Benetar - Hit Me With Your Best Shot
9. Elvis Presley - Burning Love
10. Prince - Purple Rain

There. Glad I got that off of my chest. This guy has come up with ridiculous musical lists before. I think that from now on I will correct them here.

Hey Bro, I can't do morning classes

When I was a kid, drug dealers had to pick up their industry training on the street.
Some suggested additions for their FAQ section:

• Can I do a double major with Philosophy?
• What if my lab partner bogarts the project?
• Do I need to inform my parole officer before enrolling?
• On which corner will I do my internship?
• Does the bookstore sell baggies and a scale?

A long year.

A year ago today we lost our friend Donna to breast cancer. She put up an inspirational fight for 4 years and brought a community closer (and at the same time made that community bigger). I think about her every day and I am trying to live by her advice. I don't always succeed, but I try:

Choose your attitude. Make a choice to be positive each day.

Pay it forward.

Think Pink and take care of your health.

I miss you.

Beernor the No Fun

I never caught the Porn Star Name bandwagon. I did not put the name of my first pet together with the name of the street I grew up on. (Mostly because I really don't remember my first pet.)
However, when I read on another blog how to find your Viking name, I wanted to do it too. Take the 1st syllable of your favorite alcoholic drink and the 1st syllable of the town you grew up in + the word "the" + your worst characteristic = your Viking name.

I am Winenor the Critical.

I tried to engage my husband in this game tonight. (OK, maybe my timing was bad because he was poring over maps of deer hunting regions when I did it, but hey! how about a little attention, please?!) He kind of listened when I explained the porn name part, but then I lost him after asking (no - dragging out of him) what his favorite beverage would be. He was not very cooperative going forward from there.

I have taken the liberty of choosing a name for him: Beernor the Intolerant.

But then again, what about Beernor the Stick in the Mud? Beernor the Humorless? Beernor the Tunnel-Visioned? Beernor the Going Overboard With the Deer-Hunting Maps? Beernor the Grumpy? (wait- maybe that one's me...)

I will never complain again.

Thankfully, only 3 of these things are happening in the boys' bathroom.I will not complain about their poor aim again...

It's true LD, I swear!!!

My friend LaRonda sent me an email about my post on 6/25 regarding how much I hate my gym.
"Really? Is it that gross?!?" (I'm paraphrasing)
Answer: Yes, it really is. When sweat constantly drips on metal, the metal rusts.
When equipment isn't maintained, the equipment breaks.
When custodians only clean mirrors, the rest of the gym (and everything in it) is dusty.
(Tip: gym equipment should never be fuzzy.)

Happy 4th... however you celebrated it.

We got out of Dodge the night of the 3rd in order to spend the holiday weekend at the cabin. Certainly not a traditional 4th of July with block parties, swimming & fireworks... but this year with everything going on with Mike, we thought keeping it low-key was a good idea. (especially since the boys were supposed to be with him this year.)

We climbed to the top of a neighbor's ridge and watched the fireworks down in the valley. (Note: 5,000 feet above it, at night, is the only way that Hemet will ever look pretty.)
While the neighbors can see the city below... I like our view better:
We spent the weekend watching movies, playing video games, doing puzzles and eating junk. It was fun... ...but apparently, exhausting:

Mike Update

Mike (Devin & Conner's Dad) is still at Loma Linda. The tumor is malignant and was too big to take out during the surgery. He will undergo a few months of chemo and radiation in order to shrink the tumor so that they can remove it. Once they do that, they'll know a bit more about what they're dealing with. (Why they can't give a more definitive answer about that now is beyond me!)

Loma Linda is a great hospital and he's in good hands. He's also in pretty good spirits, and that's a large part of the battle. Devin & Conner seem to be taking it pretty well, all things considered. (I'd been kind of prepping them with age-appropriate info, a little at a time....)

Thanks for keeping the Brown family & the boys in your prayers.
Viv

Happy 50th Dave!!!

There may be 50 ways to leave your lover, but there's only one way to wear a balloon hat.

Few can pull it off.

Not to get all sappy, but....

It's been said that if you have 5 really good friends over the course of your lifetime that you are really lucky. How lucky am I that I have pretty much had the same awesome group of friends my entire lifetime?

Don't get me wrong: I make new friends all the time. My attitude isn't, "Sorry, but I've reached my friends quota and am not accepting any new friendships at this time." New friends are great... but these lifetime friends are exceptional. (And no, not that sappy estrogen channel.) I've known most of these girls since jr. high and I don't know anyone who keeps in touch with their childhood friends the way we do and I certainly don't know anyone who sees them on a regular basis. (Perhaps it's a Norco High, 1985 thing...?)

I'm having a rough week, and seeing them last night for a Girls' Night Out was the best stress-reliever ever!



No matter what life brings, I know these women will make me laugh, will be there for me when I need to cry, and will tell me when I'm being a jerk (I've been known) I would do anything for them - I love them to pieces!!!

(There are a few that make me laugh more than others...)

Wouldn't Iraq be more current?

Grant is watching TV (Edward Scissorhands!?!) while strumming a ukelele and singing. His song? Veeee-it-naa-ahm. Veee-it-naa-ahm. Veee-it-naa-ahm. Veee-it-naa-ahm.....

What's up with that?