Dear Sally Hansen: You suck.

It appears the "10 Day No Chip" promise only applies to people who do not use their hands.

Not only does it chip like crazy, but if you wash your hands or take a shower, the edges of the polish start washing off.

This is after 2 days. Maybe they should call it "10 Minute No Chip" polish....

Enjoy it while you can. (or) Don't worry, it's the first and last time you'll have to eat this.

I tend to wing it when I cook, and my "creations" are either

a) loved;

b) hated; or,

c) told to work on their act and audition again.

My culinary concoctions are usually made up while incorporating leftovers, so for years I told the family to enjoy it if they liked it or choke it down if they didn't... because either way it was the first and last time it would be served. I never remembered exactly what I did and I never wrote anything down.

This "never writing anything down" really started to bother them if they liked the meal. That's fine for them, but sometimes these meals can never be totally re-created. For example, the best beef stroganoff I have ever made can never be repeated. If I tried it would look something like this:

Take 6 pounds of top sirloin from Rossmoor, CA to June Lake, CA, in mid-July.
Let it sit in the fridge for 3 days.
Have someone else season it with their "secret steak seasoning" and grill it.
Eat 4 pounds of it and then let the remaining 2 pounds sit in the fridge one more day.
Pack it in a cooler and drive it from June Lake to back to Rossmoor.
Slice it into thin strips and add it into a sauce you have no idea how you made.
Serve over rice.

See what I mean? At any rate, the new family policy is that if the dish gets a thumbs up, I must write down what I did immediately.... even including the leftovers I used.

So, since even I run out of things to say on occasion (shocking, yes I know) I will post recipes every once in a while. I just recently posted my very favorite (much tested) lasagna recipe.

Now I give you the Concoction of the Week:

Thai Chicken and Spinach Stir Fry
2 lbs chicken tenders, rinsed and patted dry
Thai seasoning blend (I use The Spice Hunter's)
2 tbsp vegetable oil
1 tsp sesame oil (if you don't have this, don't worry about it.)
1 Tbsp rice vinegar
3 cloves minced garlic
2 cups sliced, cooked carrots (leftovers; Emeril recipe - sauce rinsed off)
3 Tbsp soy sauce
2 Tbsp lime juice
1 tsp ground ginger (or 3 Tbsp fresh, peeled & minced)
2 cups quartered, seeded cherry tomatoes (rinse in a colander to remove seeds easily.)
1 Tbsp dried basil
1 to 1.5 tsp crushed red pepper flakes
3 big handfuls of fresh spinach leaves
1/2 to 3/4 cup roasted, salted cashews

Sprinkle chicken with Thai seasoning on both sides. In a large skillet, heat oils over high heat. Add chicken and sear on both sides, but do not cook all the way through. Transfer chicken to a plate and keep covered. (Chicken will continue to cook a little.)

Reduce heat to medium high and deglaze the skillet with the rice vinegar. Add garlic and stir until just beginning to brown. Add carrots and increase heat, stirring quickly. When carrots begin to caramelize a bit, mix soy sauce, lime juice and ginger in a small bowl and add to skillet. Let simmer a few moments.

Working quickly, chop chicken into bite sized pieces and return to the skillet. Add in tomatoes. Add basil and pepper flakes. Add spinach, one handful at a time, stirring before the next handful. Spinach should be wilted but not cooked. Remove from heat. Top with cashews and serve over rice.

Rice: 2 cups rice to 4 cups water, a generous sprinkle of Thai seasoning and garlic salt; staemed in cooker. Toss with butter.

Don't ask me for calories or nutrition info. I don't know and have no way to calculate it. This amount was not quite enough for my family of 6. However, a couple of the 6 eat as if they will never. be. fed. again.

Please, please, please don't be spooked by the number of ingredients. (I understand that it seems like a lot to most people.) They are usually things everyone has on hand. I have found that it is the prep time that is a killer for recipes, not the number of ingredients.

Look for more recipes to come, and if you try it, please let me know what you think and any suggestions you may have. Mangia!

What did you have for breakfast? Don't know - I couldn't see it through all of the empty wine bottles...

I hosted bunco at my house last night.* It was a lot of fun, as evidenced by this morning-after photo. However, I instantly regretted my decision to clean the kitchen this morning, instead of doing it last night before I went to bed.


See the toaster?
See the peanut butter?
Now close your eyes....

Can you see 3 boys getting ready for school, making toast and sandwiches in the middle of last night's bunco debris?

I can see it too. (Worst. Mom. Ever.)

* I served my lasagna. Here's the recipe for those who asked (and those who didn't, but will eat Italian food 'til the cows come home.) DO NOT BE AFRAID OF THE NUMBER OF INGREDIENTS. There are quite a few, but prep time for this baby is about half an hour. And really...? It's the amount of time that is a killer, not the number of ingredients...

Viv's Lasgana

Meat Sauce
1.5 lbs (or so) Hot Italian Sausage (slit casings with a knife, remove sausage, throw away casings. Crumble into bits.
In a large stock pot, brown:
The crumbled sausage
1.5 lbs ground beef (ground turkey works too)
Spoon off as much fat as possible. Add:
1 large yellow onion, diced (about 2 cups)
4 big cloves of garlic, minced
2 Tbsp tomato paste
2 tsp each of dried basil, thyme & oregano
1 tsp red pepper flakes
1 or 2 bay leaves
Stir well, then sauté about 5-10 minutes, until onion is soft.
Stir in:
¾ cup beef broth
4 cans Italian style diced tomatoes, 3 drained, 1 not
2 Tbsp balsamic vinegar
Pinch of salt.
Simmer until most of the liquid has evaporated. (About 20 minutes)

Meanwhile, make the Béchamel Sauce
In a large saucepan over medium high heat, saute:
¼ cup (half a stick) unsalted butter
1/2 large yellow onion (about 1 cup)
¼ tsp cayenne pepper
Pinch of nutmeg. (Yes, nutmeg)
Stir constantly to prevent scorching, about 2 minutes. Add:
1/3 cup flour
Stir to coat everything with the flour and cook about 2 minutes.
Gradually add:
3 cups of milk (I use would not use anything with a fat content lower than 2%)
2 6.25oz containers of Alouette “garlic & herb” flavored cheese spread. (Boursin cheese can be used too, but it is harder to find and more expensive…)
Whisk until smooth. Set aside 1 cup of the béchamel sauce to top off the lasagna.
Cool the remaining sauce for about 5 minutes, then whisk in:
1 egg, beaten
1 8oz package of chopped, frozen spinach, thawed, with the water squeezed out and drained

Lightly grease a 13x9 pyrex (I use an olive oil spray), then smear a very thin layer of béchamel, just enough to lightly coat the bottom. Then layer, in this order:
3 lasagna sheets (I use the Barilla No-Boil kind)
½ cup béchamel
1 cup meat sauce
Fresh mozzarella slices
Shredded parmesan cheese (not the grated in the canister kind)

Keep layering until you get to the top of the pan. Put down 3 lasagna sheets on the top and pour the reserved béchamel over them. Sprinkle with more Parmesan and a little mozzarella. Bake, uncovered at 400 until it smells good and the top looks golden and bubbly (about 35 minutes). Let stand about 20 minutes before cutting.


Do not think about the calories and fat. Just enjoy.

Oh, and serve with a nice bottle of wine.
Chi mangia bene, vive bene.

~~~~~Updated and re-posted to link to this yummy recipe swap on 4/20/09~~~~~~~~~

I am SO glad I didn't run over that old man in the parking lot.

I ran into the grocery store to pick up a few things. Specifically, a case of wine: Crane Lake Petite Sirah. A great everyday-while-making-dinner wine. And? $3 a bottle. (Oh, but what I would give to afford a daily Rombauer habit... but I digress.)

A clerk helped me out to the parking lot in order to put the case into my car for me. A little old man came up to talk to us. Now the clerk was able to scoot out of the situation by going to round up more carts. I couldn't leave unless I wanted to back over the old guy, so I settled in for a nice discussion.

This is what I learned from this gentleman:

• The 99 Cent store is the end all, be all of fun.
• I should be buying my wine there, as it is just 99 cents a bottle.
• If I don't like the wine I bought, I can "fix" it by adding an equal part of apple cider to it.
• This works for any wine, including champagne... What's that wonderful champagne that comes from Naples? You know... they're famous for it. The good stuff. Has a red top... Ah! I know! Asti Spumonte! A little apple cider mixed in there is great!
• He has two glasses each night with his dinner and then takes a nap.
• There are little teeny, tiny, white, round headphones that fit right inside your ears.
• You can get 9 batteries for 99 cents.
• If you have the hard alcohol left over from your younger days, you can give it away as gifts.
• He gives his old alcohol to the doctors who are keeping him alive.
• He is 85.

He looked a lot like a skinny Ansel Adams. It was 80 degrees and he was wearing gold and green houndstooth print pants, a long sleeve shirt with a cardigan vest and a fedora-type hat. Everything matched beautifully (especially if it were 1972.)

I thought he was fabulous and am going to shop at that store, on the same day and time each week, hoping I see him again.

What the heck is an online Spray Paint Party?

A few weeks ago I stumbled across a blog I really like: Thrifty Decor Chick

I thought, "Wow! This is awesome. Here is a girl who thinks like I do.... re-purpose, re-use, re-finish, etc." She loves Goodwill and yard sales, and she shares my love of spray paint. Little did I know, that there is an entire blog community of crafty, creative people (moms!) out there who think like me. Ohhh! I have found my people!

So Miss Thrifty Decor Chick had a "spray painting party." Huh? Apparently you link to her website and share one of your spray paint projects. Well to show that I am more than just a smart-ass with a bunch of wacky anecdotes, I am going to try to post some of the projects I do on occasion.

I come to the party late (does that make me a party crasher?) and I offer up the dining room chairs I did for our cabin.

I snagged 6 of these ugly restaurant chairs off of craigslist for $5 each.

I spray painted them barn red and recovered them with a cow-hide print. (The paint looks brighter in the photo.) Total cost for all six of was $70. I hope to eventually replace the cow-hide print with the real thing, but can't find pieces that are the size/pattern/coloring I want. (Or the price I want.) I am collecting the pieces slowly but surely, a la eBay.

Conversely, (as far as painting) another craigslist find for the cabin:

I removed a horrible, offensive sponge paint treatment from this $25 solid wood dresser. (...Scrape, scrape, scrape. Sand, sand, sand. Refinish, refinish, refinish....)

I added real cowhide pieces to the drawer fronts, covered the edges with furniture tacks and added cute pulls (also from eBay). Total cost for this dresser? About $50 and a lot of elbow grease. However, the pain was worth it when I saw a similar piece in one of those cutesy, rustic decor boutiques and it was going for more than $900. Yipes!

(And yes, the carpet at the cabin is hid-e-ous, but that'll just have to wait. The bathroom still isn't finished. From November!)

Great ideas and inspiration from this "party" and the projects women have posted. Maybe this will be a regular thing I can do. (When I'm done wrangling kids, doing laundry....)

Have you heard of this Barack Obama guy...?

Scene: morning, our living room. Conner is watching the news.

Conner: "Mom? What's Obama's last name?"
Mom: "Obama."
Conner: (with a laugh and a little snort) "Obama Obama?! pfft!"

oy.

All that's missing is Phoebe and Smelly Cat.

ABC premiered a new show last night. (I did not watch. I'm a House person.) There was something vaguely familiar about an online ad I saw for this new show, Roommates. Here is the description, from the show's website:

Mark has a crush on Katie, so what's he do? Becomes her roommate. Smooth. They also live with Hope, a career woman ... um, without a career. And roomie No. 4, James, has advice for everyone, but he's no better off than anyone. And finally there's Thom, who doesn't live in but hangs out a lot. Hookups, jobs, and other embarrassments keep the laughs coming as five twentysomethings try to figure it all out.



Hmmm. Have you ever heard of a show called FRIENDS? It ran on NBC for a little while....



Mark sounds an awful lot like Ross.
Katie sounds like Rachel
Hope sounds like Monica, (except she's working as the barrista, not Rachel).
James sounds like Chandler (actually, Thom does too.)

Perhaps ABC's demographic are the people who are too young to realize that Jennifer Aniston was on a TV show prior to becoming Brad Pitt's ex.

Good grief I feel old.

Back-breaking amounts of homework.

This is wrong.

There should be no need for kids to have to carry this much in their school backpacks. Conner's backpack easily weighs 40 pounds. Devin's weighs a bit more than that.

Are today's schools under the impression that our children are pack-mules? (Stubborn and mule-headed does not mean they can carry this much weight.)

I am going to have to start putting money aside to pay for his inevitable back problems.

What's a little debt between taxpayers?

A friend sent this to me in an email and I was floored...

All this talk about "stimulus packages" and"bailouts"... A billion dollars... A hundred billion dollars... Eight hundred billion dollars... One TRILLION dollars... What does that look like?

It's so much money that I can't even comprehend that prefix... So, to provide some scale (and perspective.)

We'll start with a $100 dollar bill, currently the largest U.S. denomination in general circulation.

A packet of one hundred $100 bills is less than 1/2" thick and contains $10,000.

Believe it or not, this next little pile is $1 million dollars(100 packets of $10,000).

While a measly $1 million looked a little unimpressive, $100 million is a little more respectable. It fits neatly on a standard pallet....

And $1 BILLION dollars... now we're really getting somewhere...

Now... ONE TRILLION dollars. This is that number we've been hearing so much. What is a trillion dollars?

It's a million million.

It's a thousand billion.

It's a one followed by 12 zeros... 1,000,000,000,000

Ladies and gentlemen... I give you $1 trillion dollars...

Can you still see the little guy down there in the left-hand corner? (And notice those pallets are double stacked.)

I don't know whether to laugh or cry.

This too shall pass.

Grant is on an invisibility kick.

It's getting really old, really fast.

In the kitchen:
Grant: "Mom, can I have a cookie please?"
Mom: "Not until after lunch."
Grant: "I ate an invisible lunch, but I want a real cookie."

At baseball practice:
Coach: "Grant, pay attention! It's your turn up at bat."
Grant: "I'm going to use my invisible bat."
or
Coach: "Grant! You're the short-stop. You need to get the balls that are hit to you."
Grant: "I got the invisible ball instead."

ugh. Many, many, many examples of this. (Invisible toothbrush really bugged me...) Enough already.

Just a while ago, Grant was in the living room and I heard a smacking sound and a sharp cry of pain. What happened!?!?

"I was spinning with an invisible peach and I hit my foot and elbow on this table. Waaahhh!"

An invisible peach?

I am glad he has a good imagination.
I am glad he can entertain himself.
Am I a bad mom if I am ready to make visits to the invisible world a punishable offense?

Yeah, I'm cheap and easy. What of it?

~~~~~~~~UPDATED/REVISED 3/31/09~~~~~~~~~~
I am so in love with Thrifty Decor Chick and the crafty blogging community, I just had to submit another post for her Spray Paint Party. I know I posted this a few weeks ago, and I'm late (again) to the party, but I liked this project and wanted to share...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'm kind of cheap when it comes to decor.

What I mean by that, is that I love a beautiful room.... I just don't want to pay a lot for it. Therefore, I am always trying to re-purpose something, re-finish something, etc. I make Rich crazy because I am reluctant to get rid of anything that might possibly come in handy later on.

Once I had cardboard inserts that served as packing when I bought a new stove, and when I moved I made Rich pack them in a U-Haul and drive them from WA to CA because I was convinced I could make a big picture frame out of them. (They were a really cool shape. All they needed was a mitre saw and a little paint!) Ultimately, they were moved 1,000 miles only to be thrown away, so we'll never know what they could have been.

I do the same thing with clothing. (Which, when I finally did clean out my closets, quickly bit me in the ass when it came time to dress for an 80s party and I realized I had recently gotten rid of clothing that would have been perfect for the occasion. I actually had to buy something. grr.)

Anyway. I always, always hit the after Christmas sales in order to stock up on decorations for cheap, but I have never made it a point to do the same for other post holiday sales. So, as I am dragging out the Easter/Spring decorations, I want to fill an apothecary jar with those natural-looking, sort of speckled quail or robin's eggs, and realized I don't have any. I also wanted them now(!) and didn't want to go out searching the stores or wait for online shipping. (Also? They're kind of pricey!)


Not to worry! I have 800,000 of those bright, plastic eggs. I also have spray paint and glue. I glued the eggs together with good ol' Elmer's glue, and it also served as a sort of caulking, so the crack wouldn't show as much. I sprayed them with cream colored paint, then shot them lightly with a can of fleck paint (left over from Devin's 4th grade California Mission assignment).


When they were dry, I took half of them and misted them with a spray bottle filled with a mixture of water and light blue paint. When dry, I dumped them all in a jar. Viola!




Pottery Barn, Crate & Barrel, Smith & Hawken, Martha Stewart = $$$$$
Viv's Version = Free

My way is better. (As usual...)
(kidding.)
(No. My way is usually better.)

I am so sad about Natasha Richardson.

I don't believe I have seen any of Natasha Richardson's movies. I had heard of her, of course, but I didn't follow her career. I do not understand why I am so, so, sad to hear that she died from this little, no big deal fall on a ski slope. (And a bunny slope at that.)

I have followed this story today as if I was in the waiting room of the hospital. Why did I suddenly get emotionally attached to this actress I've never watched? I think maybe it is because she was happily married (special anytime, but in Hollywood, rare as well) and that she had two sons close to Conner's and Mitchell's ages. It may be that she just seemed like a nice person, with a nice family and people who loved her....

But mostly, I think it's because she woke up Monday morning, on vacation, with plans to do something fun with her children. She thought it was a special day because of that. I'm sure she never in a million years thought that for all intents and purposes, it was a special day in that it was her last day. Good God, how many of us have smacked our heads on something, just in our own houses? How many of us have tripped and fallen in our own yards? How quickly our lives can change.

Makes me want to renew my promises to myself - those promises I often find myself breaking:

• always say "I love you"
• never let the sun go down on an argument
• always give your spouse and kids a hug and kiss goodbye
• don't sweat the small stuff
• be the first one to say "I'm sorry"

I will hug my family a little tighter and pray for hers. So sad.

Tramp Stamp Barbie

Have I ever mentioned that I have 4 boys?

I have? OK. That probably explains why I am late to discover Totally Stylin' Tattoo Barbie.


You know that I really want to focus on my distaste for tattoos and wacky piercings. You know I really want to get into a social debate about appropriateness and whether or not Barbie's tats would make little girls want to run out and get their own Tramp Stamp.... but I will refrain,

It seems that Ms. B is turning 50 this year and is having a bit of a mid-life crisis. The folks at Mattel seem to be playing a bit of catch up, as far as trends (or the decline of Western Civilization) go. That being the case, here are my predictions for the next wave of Barbies to hit the store shelves:

• Laser Tattoo Removal Barbie (obviously)
• Botox Barbie
• Liposuction/Face Lift Barbie (with Dr. Rey accessory doll)
• Rock of Love Commemorative Barbie (with boobie tassels and rubber vomit)
• Illiterate, Text Messaging Barbie
• Paris Hilton Barbie (oh wait... is that a which came first example?)
• Skanky, Foul-Mouthed, Muffin Top Barbie
• Rehab Barbie (also with rubber vomit and Serenity Prayer)
• 13 Year Old Still a Virgin Barbie (because oral or anal sex doesn't count)
• Barbie's Dream House (comes with "bank owned" Foreclosure sign)

Just yuck.

A spider by any other name is still just as creepy.

Rich is the Great Spider Killer in our house. He is my hero.

Grant has the same aversion to spiders that I have, but Rich has tried to teach him that Daddy-Long-Legs spiders aren't bad, and can actually be a bit helpful. So, if there is a Daddy-Long-Legs around, Rich tries to put it outside, rather than kill it.

(I say kill 'em all and let God sort 'em out, but whatever.)

Last night, Grant was told to go and get his PJs on. He came back out to us to say, "There's a Daddy Feet Long in the house." We didn't get it at first, so he repeated himself a few times.

Oh! Do you mean a Daddy-Long-Legs?

"Yes! A Daddy Feet Long. I can't get my PJs on with a spider in the way!"

So Rich removed the offending spider, Grant got ready for bed, and we laughed about it the rest of the evening. Priceless.

I can stop any time I want...

It is that time of year again. The time of year I lose all self control.


As a result, I've suffered a debilitating injury.



I have eaten so many of these Cadbury Mini-Eggs that the roof of my mouth seems to have been rubbed with a cheese-grater. You see, you can't just chew them. You have to let them melt in your mouth while cracking that thin little candy shell against the roof of your mouth.


I am now warming the bench when it comes to eating any more of them. Bummer. But in a way, I guess a blessing...

Some other kid's cute thing...

At Grant's baseball game yesterday, one of the little kids on the other team was playing 2nd base. As one of our guys hit the ball toward him, he bent over to field it. He let the ball go by him because he spied something else on the ground and he picked that up instead.

He ran towards the stands to his mother, "Look mom! I found a quarter!!!"

Parents from both teams were just dying laughing.

On a day when the tally is 27 people dead from horrible attacks by deranged gunmen, when the economy is only getting worse, and when sadness and terrible things seem to be everywhere you look... it truly is a little gift from God to be able to smile and laugh at something so precious and innocent.

Also? That kid really needs to start saving for retirement now, so he better hang on to that quarter....

I think I need a lollipop too.

Grant just got 4 immunization shots, plus a shot for a TB test in order to register for kindergarten. I tried to tell him that, yes, it will hurt a little, but they will help to keep him safe and healthy, yadda, yadda, yadda.

He was OK with that story, but then I had to hold him down while he got the shots. The sharp cry of pain, then the tears each time was bad enough, but the look betrayal that came over his face, through the tears, was awful. I think it truly did hurt me more than it hurt him.

I can already tell that kindergarten is going to be tough for me.

He never listens when WE tell him to shut up...

Conner told us last night that there was going to be a dance after school this week, and that he wanted to go. It went a little something like this:

"Um, there's this dance after school and it's sometime this week, either Tuesday or Wednesday or Thursday or Friday. It's either $4 or $10 or I'm not sure. I think it's in the afternoon..."

We told him to stop speaking and come back to us when he had the facts. As he's getting ready to go to bed tonight, he remembers the topic....

"Oh, I found out about the dance. It's Thursday from 3:15 to 3:40, or something, and it's $4 and the last day I can buy a ticket is tomorrow."

We told him we doubted that there was a dance that was being held for a mere 25 minutes, and wanted to know what the correct time was. Apparently, the announcements are made over the intercom. He said he heard the start time, but not the end time. Why didn't he ask someone if they caught the end time information?

"I did! I asked the girl sitting next to me..."

And what did she say?

"shhh!"

Baseball pop quiz.

Grant had another baseball game on Saturday. It was very exciting. I offer you the highlights, in multi-choice form...

A coach drew a circle in the dirt to show Grant where his position was in the infield, in the hopes that he would stay somewhere near it. Did Grant....
a) completely ignore what the coach said and go and talk to his friend in centerfield.
b) follow directions so intently that he did not move out of the circle, even to field a ball that was less than 2 feet from him.
c) both.

The answer is b.

While "on deck" waiting his turn to bat, did Grant...
a) wait quietly, meditating on the coaching he had previously been given.
b) take a few practice swings in preparation for his turn at bat.
c) manage to hit himself right between the eyes with the end of the bat, cry, and have to be moved to the end of the line up until he calmed down.

The answer is c.

When in a fielding position, did Grant...
a) spin around in a circle.
b) pay attention to the game.
c) spin around in a circle.

The answer is not b.

Baseball requires a lot of catching. Did Grant meet this requirement by...
a) catching and fielding balls that came his way.
b) throwing his mitt in the air and catching it.
c) Grant is not very good at catching things.

The answer is c. (But we're positive he will improve.)

Grant got two turns at bat (like all of the other players) and hit the ball thrown by the coach each time (instead of needing to use the T). Each player is to run one base. (There are no outs, no one keeps score.) Upon advancing to 2nd base, did Grant...
a) prepare to advance to 3rd base when the next player hit the ball.
b) stay on 2nd and argue with the 1st base runner that he was on 2nd base, and refuse to advance to 3rd.
c) run the wrong way and go back to first.

The answer is b. (It could have been worse... it could have been c.)

While still on 2nd base, did Grant...
a) push the other team's 2nd baseman away from "his base."
b) sit on the base in between batters.
c) both.

The answer is c.

While sitting on the base, did Grant...
a) massage an aching muscle.
b) tie his shoe.
c) draw in the dirt.

The answer is c.

Was Grant's favorite part of the game...
a) the two hits that he got.
b) being outdoors.
c) being part of a team.
d) snack and the juice box.

The answer is d. (for duuuhhh!)

Spring whining; oops, I mean cleaning.

So sorry to my pals in the Mid-West or on the East Coast, but here in SoCal, spring has sprung. (Or it's about to...)

Even if the temperature doesn't tell the whole truth, I can tell it's here because I get that itch to clean out closets, organize things and I want to redecorate. I feel like going to Lowe's and cruising through store and taking my time wandering around the garden center.

This year, however, I am sad about saying goodbye to one of my autumn craft projects. I made a chandelier out of manzanita from up at our cabin, using little candles and crystals. I love it and am very proud of how it turned out. (It looks like it did when I saw it in my head... I love it when that happens.)


It doesn't necessarily look that great in this photo, but when it was lit for parties and dinners, it looked awesome.




Anyway, this thing is so big and unwieldy that there is nowhere to store it until next year. I am going to have to dismantle it and it will become firewood. So sad, but it just doesn't say "Spring." Oh well.

And? As if that didn't bum me out enough, this is the time of year when I look at my pasty, untoned upper arms and think, 'Holy Crap! It's tank top time again!' and panic. However, since I am long past the age when it is appropriate to wear short-shorts, the fact that my butt is down visiting my thighs is my little secret.

(And now, of course, yours.)

Check your own damn pockets or pay the price. (Which I think is about $8.50...)

My guys need to learn to be more responsible.

I thought I made it perfectly clear that I am no longer reaching into people's pockets to make sure they're empty before throwing them in the wash. I will sort of pat the article of clothing, while shaking it upside down, but I am not reaching into the pockets.

If they don't learn to empty their pockets themselves (especially since they're starting to start their own loads of washing) they will be spending all of their money replacing candy, chapsticks and iPod headphones....

Follow that dad!

Much to his big brothers' dismay, Grant has been watching Dora the Explorer, Go Diego Go, The Wonder Pets and Curious George lately. They frequently have episodes where the characters "track" an animal of some kind.

Rich is also an avid outdoorsman and even has a book called Animal Tracks & Scat that was his bedtime read for a while. (Personally, I think the book would be more accurately titled How To Follow A Bear's Tracks To Find His Poop....) But I digress.

The point is that Grant is aware of tracks, and the concept of following them.

The other morning, Rich got in his car to leave for work, forgot something, and had to run back up to the house. He ran through the wet grass to do so. Five minutes later, Grant and I left to run errands. He spied Rich's foot prints and in great awe, excitedly shouted out "Mom!!! Look!!!!! Dad tracks!!!" He was absolutely thrilled by his discovery.

I wonder if he realizes he leaves his own "tracks" through the house....

They take many forms (crumbs, fingerprints, Hot Wheels, discarded pajamas, the pillows off of the couch....) I imagine that a little animal leaving those tracks would look something like this.

This is also more like it!

Yaaay!!!




If I am dreaming, please just let me sleep a little bit longer.

Fine. It was an immature thing to do. And I'm not sorry I did it.

So I was in Target, standing in the book section. As I looked at a display of books, I started feeling really uncomfortable... like that whole, something is wrong here and I can't put my finger on it, but I'm getting an anxious feeling in the pit of my stomach feeling.

I started to feel sweaty and a little nauseated, and I cannot even describe the sense of outrage, despair and the sense of, well, injustice (for lack of a better word) that came over me, all at once.

I thought I detected a sulfur-like smell, and I felt like a malevolent presence was there, watching me, wanting to hurt me.

I slowly turned around, and then I saw it:


I did what any godless, stupid, evil Democrat would do.

I went to that display and I flipped over every single one of her hateful, vicious books, so that the front wasn't showing.

I wanted to make sure that other shoppers wouldn't have to see or feel what I just went through.

It was quite a scare.

(I am sure this post will drive my husband to once again boycott my blog - he does that on occasion- but he'll get over it.)

Stupid. It's what's for breakfast.

Scene: our kitchen; 7:00 a.m. Devin & Conner are at the counter, eating breakfast.

Mom: (shuffling out, bleary eyed, to make some coffee...) "Good morning guys."
Devin: "Hi Mom. Listen, there was a little mold on this bagel, but I cut it off. I'm trying to eat it, but it tastes bad. It tastes funny. What should I do?"
Mom: "Don't eat it." (desperately fighting the urge to add 'duuuuh')
Devin: "I thought you might get mad."

Note to self: Make an addition to the Lessons To Teach The Children list.... There is a difference between wasting perfectly good food and throwing out food poisoning that is disguised as a bagel.

I would have been freaked out too!!

I now know what the ticking sound was that was freaking Conner out the other night.... It was the sound of his imagination crashing into scary images and then melting into a puddle of gibbering I'm scared and I'm home alone goo.

I can't say as I blame him.

This is what he was freaked out about.....



It is from a BBC show called Dr. Who and it is called a Clockwork Droid. Description as follows:

The Clockwork Robots were created by a spacecrew from the 51st Century. They were created to make repairs on the ship. When the ship was damaged, vital machinery was destroyed so they began to use the crew's body parts instead.


They had strange smiling faces and long black hair for their trips to France but were actually glass humanoid figures operated by space age clockwork technology. They would break any clocks in the room to disguise their
arrival and would slice open the parts of people where the organs could be found by their blades and saws in their hands.

I take it back, Conner. I would have been hearing imaginary ticking and having visual hallucinations to boot.

It's hard to be a mean mom, but it's worth it.

Ruben Navarrette, a columnist for the San-Diego Union Tribune, wrote an article about a growing sense of entitlement that much of the country has in general, but kids in particular.


He is so right on with this! Kids do think that they are special, just because their parents tell them they are. Kids do think that they should just be given things, without really having to work for them or earn them. Kids do think that "good enough" is, well, good enough. It's not.

If everyone is special, then no one is special... we'd all be mediocre. If you're always just given something, you don't appreciate its true value. Good enough translates to "I did the bare bones minimum to get by, and I should be praised for my efforts, even so."

We've become a society where we spend much of our time looking the other way. We don't get involved if something is wrong, and we don't think too much about how we affect others.

I can't change the world, but I can help make it a little bit better by raising my children properly. I am trying my best to be consistent and fair. (Rich is far better at consistent than I am.) I don't always get it right, but I'm trying. If my kids say I am being mean, or they don't like the way I parent (for real, I've heard that one) I figure I'm doing a decent job. I am proud to be a mean mom. The world needs more of us.

My kids have each thrown one temper tantrum. One. Mom & Dad's appropriate responses ensured it did not happen ever again.
My kids know how to treat their elders with respect. They have been taught appropriate responses to "It's nice to meet you" or "How are you?"
My kids know how to write a thank you note. (And they do for every gift they receive.)
My kids have been taught how to properly set a table and, I am hopeful, how to properly eat a meal there.
My kids are being taught to clean up after themselves; to clear their own plates, to put away their own clothes, to make their own beds, to clean their bathroom... (OK, that one's still a work in progress.)
My kids will be allowed to fail or make mistakes sometimes, so that they can learn from them. (This one is really hard for me.)
My kids have chores and they earn a small, age appropriate amount of money each week.
My kids have good manners and I am not embarrassed to be seen with them in public.
When my kids do misbehave or make a bad choice, they are corrected appropriately and consistently.
My kids are learning how to celebrate a win without being cocky and take a loss with good sportsmanship.
My kids are not my friends. They are my responsibility and my job. I don't care if they don't like me, they know I love them.

My hope is that they grow up to be mean parents too.

I am out of ideas. (or) I can't start shopping for a summer wardrobe until I get rid of my winter ass.

I am having a mental tug of war.

With a treadmill.

Two thirds of the battle? Moving it from the garage (where I never used it and never would) to the bedroom (where it doesn't go with my decor or advance the calm, retreat-like vibe I am trying to create in there.) To my credit, I have not hung clothes on it.

The other third of the battle? Getting on it, of course. That requires mental games and goals for me. I am highly competitive, even with myself. I started out with 30 minutes and logged the distance I went. Each day, by the 30 minute mark, I had to have beaten the distance record from the day before, even if it was only by 1/100th of a mile. There was only one time I didn't beat yesterday's time. (I punished myself with another 5 minutes, and the next day I needed to improve on that.) I am mean.

Now that is fine and good for the first few weeks, but I need to change it up, because at the rate I am going, I will end up trying to run a 5 minute mile. I have old knees and joints. Why would I want to do that to myself.

I tried doing away with that race, and starting over with how far I can go at an incline. A tip: if you are over the age of 25, do not try to run on a hill. You will end up feeling like someone surgically shortened the muscles and tendons in the front of your legs.

I am now trying to do whatever the shuffle feature on my iPod tells me. I need to run to music, and the beat and rhythm of certain songs dictates my speed. I have a "Run" play list. If I get 4 songs in a row where I need to run fast, so be it. If I get nothing but "walking" songs, OK.

My pants are fitting better, but I am worried that I will win the tug of war. I want the treadmill to win. I need help. (oh on soooo many levels...)

Can any of you out there help me? Please give me some suggestions to keep motivated while on a treadmill, facing a wall, and thinking about all of the other things I should be doing...

I wanted to be a hall monitor in the 3rd grade. At 40? Not so much.

Grant just hurt himself running through the house (3rd time tonight.)
"Stop running in the house!"
"Stop running!"
"Stop running!"
"Grant! Stop running!"

Grant runs by a chair and hits his foot on it. There is howling, crying, clutching of the foot....

I sit him down and remind him that the reason he bumped his foot is because he was running in the house and being goofy. We both agree that his foot is OK, there is no blood, and that he will slow down from now on.

He hops off my lap and gathers speed heading past the same chair.

"Grant!! No running!! What did we just say!!??"

"I wasn't gonna run, I was gonna jump."

I give up.

Transcripts from the last 3 minutes...

As I am fixing Grant his lunch...

"Thank you that you're making a sandwich."
"Good job making that sandwich."
"And you can pour milk."
"I like pudding. The brown pudding that's over there." (pointing to the fridge)
"We have pudding on this planet."
"You can get the sun in your eyes and in your eyebrows."
"Noisy rivers have noisy snakes in them. We can clap and roar and scare them back into the river."
"Red noisy snakes, yellow noisy snakes are in the river."
(note to self: scale back his Dora The Explorer TV time...)
"I need a white napkin, to wipe the milk and the jelly."
(As I hand over his lunch, he does not say 'thank you' - I remind him of his manners.)
"Didn't you hear me clap? I clapped for you."
(I inform him that applause, while appreciated, is not a substitute for good manners.)
"Grassy-Ass. That is Spanish. It's Spanish for thank you."
(OK, maybe Dora isn't all bad....)

Why ya gotta go and change stuff?

There are somethings that shouldn't altered. Somethings are good enough, just like they are. If you try to make it better, you ultimately make it worse.

I think bringing Dirty Dancing to the live stage may turn out to be one of those things... Sure, you shouldn't put Baby in the corner, but is it a good idea to put her in front of a live audience?

(I may be wrong, but I'm thinking it's a bad idea.)

I'd like a Xanax Martini please.

I woke up yesterday morning, excited about the day. I was going to do 3 fun things for ME!
ME!!

(9:30) - In the morning I was meeting a girlfriend for coffee (with Grant along for the ride, but that's no problem because each of them like each other more than they like me... I was just grateful to be there.)

(4:00) - Then in late afternoon I was getting my hair done for the first time since June. (I need a good stylist who will listen to what I want, talk me out of bangs when I decide to try them again - something I do almost annually - and who has a good "bedside manner" so to speak. I find it incredibly awkward not knowing if we should continue with the painful small talk, or if I should just do what we both want me to do: shut up and read my magazine...)

(6:00) - From there, I was going to meet two girlfriends for drinks. (We do this every 4-6 months or so.)

That's what I had on my calendar for yesterday.
What wasn't listed:
11:00 - 3:30 - Did laundry, folded clothes, made beds, made lunch, cleaned kitchen & bathrooms, fed dogs, started crock-pot dinner since I wouldn't be here, answered emails, scheduled appointments, drove Devin's musical equipment to a friend's house*.

It should be noted at this time that Devin and his two friends (all sophomores in High School)arrived at the door, with Dev asking permission to go to his buddy's house.
Mom: "Do you have homework?"
Dev: "Yes, just a little. Like two little things."
Mom: "Where does Dylan live? In the neighborhood?"
Dylan: "Yes."
Mom: "Where do you live?"
Dylan: "I don't know the number, but I can tell you the street."
Mom: "You are a sophomore in High School and you don't know your own address?"
Dylan: "No, but it's on Street A just past Street B..."

I agree to let Dev go. Much discussion amongst the 3 boys how they can get to the mystery house. One says he knows how to get there and will ride over with Devin. I suggest they all ride over together. Then they decide they want to take amps and guitars, so they load my car and I follow them over. When this is over, I have 10 minutes to make a 15 minute drive.

The guy at the salon is great. Good hair cut, good "bedside manner." Nice, funny, personable. Didn't break my neck when washing my hair. And? He got me in and out of there in just over an hour. Something unheard of with all the hair I've got.

(5:15) - Hair done and dressed for a Girls' Night Out, I run into the grocery store and pick up stuff to make lunches the next morning. With only peanut butter, bread and bananas in the cart, I am sure I look like a Real Housewife of Orange County who doesn't know how to cook.

With non-perishable groceries stowed in the car, I head for the restaurant. On my way, I called home to check on Conner and his homework progress. Everything is going well, except for,
Conner: "Mom? Something is ticking. Can you hear it?"
Mom: "Ticking? Where are you?"
Conner: "In the kitchen"
Mom: "Is it the clock?" (I had to ask...)
Conner: "No. It is random ticks."
Mom: "Go to the oven. Do all of the dials point to 'off'?"
Conner: "Yes."
Mom: "Look at the stove. Do all of those dials point to off?"
Conner: "Wait. Which one is which?"
Mom: "Ugh. The oven is in the wall, the stove is on the counter. Regardless. Are all the dials on both of those appliances turned to the off position?"
Conner: "Yes."
Mom: "Check the crock pot..."
Conner: "Wait, there is a crock pot here?"
Mom: (getting worried that Girls' Night Out is about to go the way of the DoDo bird...) "The crock pot! It's on the counter. It's the thing that I pointed to and said 'Dinner is in there when dad comes home...' and it is the thing that is simmering with pasta sauce in it!"
Conner: "Oh, OK..."
Mom: "Sometimes when it has a really good simmer going, the lid will rattle a little."
Conner: "Not the lid.."

Call waiting beeps through. It's Devin. I hang up with Conner, take the call from Devin. I tell him his brother is wigging out. He should call dad and make arrangements to get picked up.
I call the house again and find Conner, near tears, telling me that there were about 7 ticks in a row, and they happened right after I hung up. Also, he may or may not have watched a TV show at Mike's that had something scary in it....

We go through more possibilities. No dice. I call Rich. He tells me "Go! Have fun. I've got it. Don't worry."

I'm no dummy. I go.

One of my observations about being a Stay At Home Mom is that my job often has what I call Negative Visibility.

No one notices that the refrigerator is full... they notice if we're out of sour cream. No one notices the linen closet full of clean towels or their drawer full of clean socks and underwear. They only notice when they want for something. If they never want for anything, it never occurs to anyone exactly how food gets into the cupboards and fridge. How dirty clothes turn into clean clothes. How on certain days they go to the dentist or the orthodontist... Basically, if everything is humming along smoothly, no one notices me.

Sometimes it messes with my sense of self a little to be the invisible woman. I'm smart. I'm capable of a lot of things. People used to pay me with money, not just with a casual "thanksmom" tossed over their shoulder. Don't get me wrong. I'm lucky to be able to stay home. I'm good at what I do, and I wouldn't trade it for anything, but there are days when I feel like a Non-Person.

On that note, I was really looking forward to being with a couple of people who would see Me. (Me, as in Vivienne...) I was going to get to be A Real Person.

Then I walked into the restaurant.

I arrived a few minutes early. The hostess at the front desk didn't lift her gaze from what she was doing. That's OK, I'm going to duck into the bathroom really quickly anyway. (Because how embarrassing would it be to not know if I had those little tiny pieces of hair stuck to my face from the salon...)

I come out of the bathroom. No hostess. I sit on a bench in the lobby. The hostess returns, looks at something on the desk and turns away from me. I wait for her to notice me, greet me, speak to me, something. Anything. She leaves and goes to talk to a busboy. I wait. I stare.
She returns to the desk and leans on it, facing away from me.

Now, I know she is aware of my presence. I am sitting right in front of the desk. She is purposely not acknowledging me. I am quite sure she is actually avoiding me.

(Have you ever had someone cut you off in traffic, or swerve into your lane, etc, and you end up next to them at a stoplight or something? You know how they won't look at you? They just stare straight ahead and pretend you aren't there? Sort of, "Nope. Never happened. Can't see you. Can't hear you. Never happened..." That was what this girl was doing.)

I stared at the back of her head. Every few moments she would turn and quickly look down at the desk, then just as quickly, turn back and continue to survey an empty dining room. I continued to stare. I willed her to notice me. I waited and waited.

After about 4 minutes, (real-time) I finally spoke to her. I quickly realized that this restaurant had an expanded diversity in hiring policy: They hire beautiful girls with partial frontal lobotomies.

Me: "Excuse me, but I have to tell you: you are the most attentive and friendly hostess I have ever encountered."
Pretty Stupid Girl (PSG): "Oh, thank you!"
Me: (shooting her what I hope is a withering glare) "Um, I was being sarcastic..."
PSG: "Oh, I'm sorry, I thought you were already here."
Me: (immediately amazed that this vacuous bimbo is able to breathe unassisted) "Um, yes, I am here...."
PSG: (giggling at how silly I am) "No. I mean I thought you were already there." (jerking her thumb over her shoulder towards the empty dining room).
Me: "No I arrived about 5 minutes ago."
PSG: "Oh, I thought you were leaving."
Me: "Hmm. Even so, it appears you don't say hello or goodbye to people in your lobby."
PSG: (confused smile) "Yea-aah. Sorry!"
Me: "I am meeting two girl friends here, but I'm going to wait for them in the bar. One is a tall brunette, the other is a petite blonde."
PSG: "Are there more?"
Me: "Um, nooooo. Just the two I mentioned: A tall brunette and a petite blonde. They may come in together, they may come in separately. Either way, they will be looking for me. My name is Vivienne and (very slowly and carefully) I Will Be In The Bar......"
PSG: (brightly) "OK! Welcome to Tantalum!"
Me: (another attempt to deliver a withering glare.) "I. Will. Be. In. The. Bar."

I had a lovely evening with my friends (who found me without assistance from PSG) and enjoyed a few hours of being with grown-ups. I headed for home, feeling a bit recharged: good hair, nice evening out....

Although my husband is incredibly capable, my children often are not. I opened the door to child-created drama, people in trouble, poor decisions, homework not finished, showers not taken, etc.

I would not appreciate my Girls' Nights Out nearly as much if I did not have moments like these to compare them to, but I am already trying to plan the next one.

That's more like it!

He does have his good moments too....