PHEW!

It's over. Hours and hours of sitting in a hot garage (I made Joe do it...heheheh) and haggling with people over prices with no number on the left side of the decimal point is OVER! We made it through the garage sale and we're only left with a small pile of unsold stuff that I will gladly call the nearest charitable group so they can toodle on over and get it. We didn't do too bad...considering it was Oktoberfest weekend and there were no less than 30 or 40 other garage sales in town. You think I'm kidding? I'm telling you, the amount of stuff on card tables in front yards could have been seen from SPACE! Every street, signs, balloons, piles of stuff. So...I was happy there were so many people with so much time on their hands to go to every one they encountered. Me...I wouldn't have gone to ONE. Not even MINE if I hadn't lived here! But yesterday we counted up all the cash and pronounced it a certified success. My mother suggested that we do it again next year and I told her I'd rather slam my head in a car door. She's already got stuff she's going to send down....thank God I work for a neurosurgeon.

So the lighted Oktoberfest parade was good. I had great glow bracelets filled with nuclear pink, green, orange and blue goo that glows after you snap the bracelet and shake it. I say I buy them for Emma, but they are really for ME because I think they are so freaking cool. I wore several. Emma's kept falling off, so I wore hers too. She was pelted with candy and I don't think she really understood why the air was filled with Frootsie Rolls and Dum-Dums, but she went along with it and scuttled around like the other kids picking up candy from the streets. We went up town to the carnival afterwards and waited in line with 2 million...okay it was maybe 12..people for tickets to rides...really it was very crowded. I got her onto the merry-go-round and she was all grins until that horse started moving...about half way through she turned to me and said...with a green face.."This needs to stop NOW". I could see that pukage was around the corner. I pointed to another little girl she knew and said "LOOK! Lauren is having FUN". Emma looked doubtfully at Lauren, giggled a little and then gave me that green look again. I kept telling her the horses were slowing down (they weren't...and it was the fastest damn merry go round I've ever BEEN on). Finally, wonderfully, the ride came to an end. Another parent with a grey face looked over at me and said "man...that was LONG". SO..on to the pick a duck game...won two unicorns...one purple, one blue...all was well in her world. Glow bracelets, puking averted, cheap stuffed toys, mommy on one side, daddy on the other...life was perfect.

Kinda freaked out!

So after not sleeping most of the night, the morning of the garage sale dawned bright and clear. We were out in the garage at 6:45 putting junk...I mean valuable treasure out on the driveway (closer to the curb for trash pickup if it doesn't sell). My dad brought down two carloads of stuff they are getting rid of and here's the sweet part....(sings) I get to keep the MONey! I was feeling ABYSMAL when I got up this morning. Can't say woke up because I didn't sleep. I mean we're talking I felt like GRIM DEATH. I have this cold, I started taking a new medication yesterday and it makes me not want to eat. YUCK. So my cousin and best friend in the entire universe and possibly other universes, called me this morning. She recently acheived her Reiki II status. If you're not familiar, Reiki is a healing art where the hands are used to channel energy to the person you're treating (I'm sure she'll call me and correct what I've written...) Any way she called this morning from "Packing for Camping Hell" to see how things were in "Oh My God Garage Sale Hell". She says "oh...I sent you a Reiki treatment about 7:30. You're going to feel better soon." I'm all for feeling better! So we chatted a little and hung up and I kept puttering around at the sale and I STARTED TO FEEL BETTER! My nose stopped running, my stomach settled down and I felt hungry which I haven't felt in days! I'm so freaked out.

We're doing okay with the garage sale...I think our prices are a bit low but I just want the stuff GONE GONE GONE GONE. Poor Peaches. She is so stressed and has been barking non stop and actually had to submit to being carried around so shoppers could pat her and bask in her glory. She is now passed out flat in the love seat. It's hell to be the star of the garage sale.

The germs are winning.

I have been fighting a cold for several days and now I've drifted into that land of mind-numbing-nose-running-Toyota-on-my-head-fatigue from which there is no return except on the Nyquil train. Sadly....I seem to have a one way ticket to germ land because tomorrow morning I have to be up early for the GARAGE SALE. I'm sure by 10 a m, after I'm asked by the umpteenth person "will you take ten cents for this?", I'll be handing out fifty dollar bills and saying "NO ...now just take this and GET OUT." Which will soon make me the most popular garage sale on the block and thus deepen my agony by bringing more freaks to my house. I swear...this cold stayed at bay all week and now...on the eve of destruction (read as: Garage Sale Eve)...the germs are turning up their booger machines and I can't move my head without dripping something unspeakable on my shirt. NOR can I eat...which I always find a drag. I have no appetite..which is a SURE sign that I'm sick because I can always find reason to eat...even if it's only to keep my teeth in practice. Usually my stomach has nothing to do with eating...my mouth is fully in charge of that project. Again..as usual...I digress. So...I'm cranky about the garage sale to begin with (I just want it all to go away and find a pile of money where it used to be)...and now I'm boogery and cranky....and probably contagious to boot. Buy this stuff I don't want and get anthrax FREE! Stop on in! I'm tired and not only is there the garage sale to contend with...but also ballet and the village Oktoberfest which is complete with a lighted parade (theme this year...Autumn Splendor!). We dig the light parade because...well..there are LIGHTS on everything...kids, floats, cars, dogs, horses...all covered with tiny Christmas lights powered by generators and battery packs. The highlight for me is the Shriner's wearing their fez's and riding go-cart camels...there's nothing better than 18 guys over age 60 dressed as Shriner's, fez tassels blowing in the wind, riding in different formations on fiberglass camels mounted on go-carts. I'm CONVINCED every year that there will be a big camel calamity...but the guys practice...I've seen them in the fairgrounds parking lot practicing their high speed camel figure eights. Unparalleled camel driving. There's also lots of candy throwing...best to bring an empty grocery bag...because you can't have too many pieces of dental work altering Laffy Taffy and Frootsie Rolls. I also get my supply of religious and political propaganda for the year and some free pencils. Who doesn't love free pencils?

By Sunday morning when it's time to take Emma to Sunday school and I go to church, I'll be a scaly nosed, bleary eyed, continually contagious, booger producing nightmare. But the garage sale will be behind me and Sunday night if it's not sold, it's either going to Amvets or to the curb for the trash pickers. I've put Joe in charge of the selling of things with the instructions of "TAKE WHATEVER THEY OFFER"..unless it's a free puppy or another child. We accept cash, cash and cash...oh and if they come and don't buy anything? I blow my nose and then make sure I shake their hand before they leave. See...now if they would have just bought something how much happier this would have ended?

Scene from a garage sale set up....

"What price should I put on this?"

"What is it?"

"Um...I'm not sure"

"All 'not sure's' are a buck"

Garage Sale's are the worst kind of hell

We've been planning on having a garage sale for the past 3 three years...no four...no three...I have no idea it's been so long and we've said THIS TIME WE'RE DOING IT so many times that I've lost count. It's not deciding what to sell, it's the organizing of the junk that we don't want (that we're certain someone else does) that always gets us all bogged down. This weekend is the community Oktoberfest (translated "drink beer in a tent uptown") and there are town wide garage sales. THIS TIME WE'RE DOING IT.

So a few weeks ago, in an effort to start getting ready, Joe got all the stuff down from the garage attic and unceremoniously dumped it in the second bay of our two car garage. It's like Mount Junkmore. It's been leering at us from that side of the garage since then. I swear it moves on it's own.

me: "did you move that Operation game?"
Greg: "no...it's over on the far side of the pile"
me" "no, it's sitting by the back door...I think it's making it's way back to the house"

Joe started organizing it Sunday. I was still in my sling and who can organize one handedly, I ASK YOU? He didn't get far before he came into the house, soaked with sweat and covered with baby clothes that he'd been sorting and said..."lets go for a ride or something, I need to get away from this". Hasn't been touched since.

Now it doesn't have to look like Neiman Marcus out there...but I would like the stuff at least organized into piles that people don't have to climb. You know..toys together...baby stuff together. Then I'm going to play that subliminal stuff that Target plays...."BUY MORE SHIT!" Works on me every time! (see 700 Stickers entry)

Oh...and did I mention the free dog with purchase sale?

Sometimes

On a bit of a different note. I'm experiencing some unpleasantness lately that is causing there to be tension at home. I'm exhausted, still trying to recover from my shoulder, work full time and do as much other stuff as I can. It seems that anxiety and what I think might be a bought of short term depression has moved in. I'm so disappointed because I had been off of depression medication for just about 10 months...and then this started. I think anyone would feel anxious or stressed with what we have going on (it's about money), but I seem to feel it ten fold. I don't sleep either...which makes it difficult to deal with any stress or anxiety without falling apart. I know my life is blessed with much. I just wish that the anxiety wasn't one of those things that I seem to have so abundently.

Momdar

When you push a baby into the world...or have one pulled from your belly thus leaving an 8 inch scar (ERIC AND EMMA...I'm not bitter though..sniff...)...you develop another sense. Only moms have it. Only moms can call upon it. Moms...you know what it is (all together now) MOMDAR! What do you mean, what's Momdar? Momdar is the ability to detect every object, inanimate and animate, breathing or dead, warm or cold that is in your house, in your garage, on the floor of your van or in the sandbox, on command. They don't even have to finish the sentence asking for said lost item...

" Hey Mom...where's that.."
"China cabinet drawer, left side, under the brochure about self breast exams"

"Hey Mom..have you seen.."
" Laundry room, third basket from the left, near the bottom, don't you dare wear it, it smells funky"

"Mommy where's that girl doll with the flower on her head and the spinny skirt and the yellow hat?"
(thinks) "Bathroom sink"

You know you have it. You can find anything that has passed through your conscious, semi conscious and if you have drugs, unconscious mind. Kind of handy...kind of groovy....kind of useful if you need something from someone..

"Mom...I know you know where that video game adapter is that I lost last Christmas..."
"I need your room cleaned..."
"ALRIGHT! I'll clean the room!"
"Van..three seats back, still plugged into the power jack from that trip we took"

Unfortunately it only works on their stuff....half the time I still can't find my own car keys.

NO MERMAID COSTUME????

Denied.

Halloween...ya gotta LOVE it.

Is this cat bowl not GREAT!???? Hey...that's me looking cheesy in the background...sort of got that in there by accident.

More from my collection of priceless Halloween stuff.

Ya scared?

700 STICKERS!!!!

I was in Target on Saturday. I was there to buy a few supplies for my 15 year old's birthday party that night...but I get so distracted in Target...they play no music in that store..have you ever noticed that? No music in The Target...I think it's so it doesn't drown out the subliminal, low tone messages they play "buy shit you don't need..buy shit you don't need...buy your dog a Halloween costume...buy shit you don't need". I'm tellin ya, I walk around that store in the daze. "Look at all the cool stuff in the dollar bins" I cooed to my 15 year old who came along for the torture..I mean, trip. His reply was "KEEP A STEPPIN". I managed to get a pair of Halloween socks for Emma and a bag of assorted plastic jungle animals into the cart anyway. And I caught him eyeing the candy corn shaped playing cards...who WOULDN'T love those!

So the mission was to get Emma new shoes, a few fall clothes and some snacks for the party...oh and a birthday card. We did pretty good in the shoes...I made him pick...between Dora shoes and athletic shoes...because I would have bought BOTH....come on..it's TARGET!!! So...shoes...check...I was pretty good through toys...OKAY I lied...that's where the 700 stickers come in. Emma loves little Einsteins. I think they are evil demon children trying to fill the world with their ear-worm music, but that's another story. ANYWAY...keep in mind I've been lulled into the Target-trance...on an endcap was a sticker book of all Little Einstein...and there were 700 stickers in the book. Greg (15 year old) says...NO...there will be little Einstein's EVERYWHERE, on EVERY surface, ON THE DOG, Mom!!" I just flipped dreamily through the pages and said "don't you think she'll love it??" The Target subliminal messages sang "YES YES YES" in my ear. So in went the book. THEN THEN....the Halloween stuff! You know how I am about Halloween!! Greg would have to admit that the Pomeranian sized mermaid Halloween costume almost had him...but I balked at spending 10 bucks on the dog. Then....I found this GREAT spider shaped candle holder! It has these really long legs and holds a tea light and it was only 3.50! or something...so I got that too...and then everything gets blurry and all I can remember is bags and bags of Halloween candy. And the drums...the loud drums beating out "buy more shit! buy more shit!" I couldn't even tell you what I all bought...I remember getting to the check out and saying "how'd that get in there" and looking at Greg through narrowed eyes...like HE'D done it. The only thing I can actually pin on him is the kazillion pack of gum I found in the bottom of the cart. Everything he put on the belt, I'd look at like I'd not seen it before and then give him a one-eyebrow-up look like "I don't know how it got in there".

By the way...I had 200 bucks in my purse...spent 199.75. And....the 700 Little Einstein stickers were a big hit. Not ONE on the dog (although she deserves it). AND I'm tellin you what...you gotta get one of those spiders....

This moment brought to you by

After I had my hysterectomy last year, I noticed a tingly line that ran down the inside of one of my legs. My GYN prescribed something for "neuropathy" what is really just an irritation of the nerve. He had probably cut one during the surgery and said that Neurontin or Gabapentin, as it is known generically, would take care of it until it healed in six months to a year. Being an RN, I knew of the drug, non addictive, virtually no side effects and started taking it. It made me deliriously happy.

I'm not kidding you. This stuff took my personality from guns and daggers to hearts and puppies! I don't know what's in it by I LOVE IT. It gives me this floaty-high-queen-of-all-I-survey feeling. Who doesn't love THAT? I can concentrate better, I get more done, I don't kill people for looking at me funny...this is really GOOD STUFF! One day at work, I had forgotten to take it and LOOK OUT. I didn't even remember that I'd forgotten to take it. One of my co workers who knew that I'd found the secret to eternal happiness, said "Ummm...did you take any Neurontin today?" GASP...I hadn't. I don't think I've forgotten it since. Now I get it in big 55 gallon drum size prescriptions and carry a bottle in my purse in case I forget my morning dose. I eventually had to get the prescription refilled and went to my general MD. I mumbled about still using the Neurontin and that it made me feel like I could leap off buildings wearing a cape and he said "well, keep taking it then!" He explained that it is sometimes used "off label" (in other words the FDA doesn't approve of this use) for mood stabilization. And then wrote me a the biggest prescription I've ever seen for a bottle that needed to be brought home on a flatbed. After I picked up the prescription I hauled it up to the office where I worked (pharmacy is in the same building) and set it on the counter for all to gaze upon. Someone said..."what's that?" I replied NEURONTIN. They said "THANK GOD".

I often wonder what happened to my brain to make it so chemically off kilter. Lots of people have hearts and puppies personalities and it doesn't even take COFFEE to get them to be nice. I'm grinchy-grouchy-growly-grumbly and then I take Neurontin and (BING) I'm Maria from the Sound of Music...without the spinning and singing on a big hill...but if I had one...I'm sure I'd spin and sing...this moment brought to you by Neurontin.

Eating Healthy by Emma

Mommy: Emma what do you want for dinner.

Emma: Chicken and Fries! (McDonald's)

Mommy: AGAIN?? You can't eat that every night! How about trying a hamburger?

Emma: No...they make me itch.

(Sigh) Don't you LOVE Halloween?

Bow Down Before the Cat Stick

Several years ago, my husband and I were shopping at a folk art store when we found what I thought was a really cute Halloween decoration. It was this ---------------------------->

I've always loved Halloween. I'm a junkie. We've got more ugly grinning cats and big eye'd pumpkins than I can find places to put them in the house. When I came across this cat head on a stick, I thought I'd found Nirvana! How CUTE is HE???? I carried him around the store by his stick and hid behind things and would pop the "cat stick" out and try to scare my husband as we shopped, growling "OOGA OOHA UNHA UHN!" He thought I'd lost my mind. I was in some sort of strange-Halloween-Nirvana kind of place and I was getting quite a kick out of myself, giggling helplessly the whole time. We came home and discovered there really isn't a good way to display a cat head on a stick, so we stuck it in a silk plant arrangement. I thought it was hysterical.

Now we think it's cursed. Every year since we've had it, something bad happens everytime we get the damn thing out of the Halloween totes. One year the whole family started barfing almost in unison. It's been something EVERY year. This year, financial disaster. And all because of this dang Cat Stick. We're afraid what will happen to us if we throw it away or something. It's like that Evil Tiki Idol that Peter Brady finds in the Hawaii episode! Then Greg is almost killed while surfing! It's JUST LIKE THAT! I don't know whether to bury the thing at full moon while doing some sort of anti-cat-stick dance that involves shaking chicken bones?

I have a feeling that it won't make a difference. We're thinking that a yapping Pomeranian sacrifice might please the Cat Stick...it would make US happy.

So I got one of those chain emails.

A couple of days ago, I received one of those chain emails. You know the ones that I'm talking about. Send this to 1,236 of your friends and something very cool will happen to you. I usually never fall for it. I read the email and as soon as I hit the part where it gives the instructions to send it to 7 of my friends (and I usually have to dig through my address book for friends that I think won't KILL me if I do this to them), I usually hit the delete button with great flourish like Liberace finishing a Las Vegas show.

So things have been a little stressful around our house. Money, work, my freaking arm have all put a tension in the air that is making each day less than joy filled. When I received this email it said that at a precise time the next day I would receive news I had been waiting to hear (I think it said GOOD news). BUT I had to send it seven of my friends and "please don't break the chain!". So I thought of seven people that would maybe not try to poison me the next time a saw them, added them to the address line and "poof" sent off the email.

Yesterday, I'd pretty much forgotten about the whole thing. I was seeing patients as usual. I've been trying to sell this stupid ring that I have on Ebay and haven't had much luck because A. it's ugly and 2. it's worth quite a bit of money and rich jewelry shoppers do not abound on Ebay. At almost the exact time specified in the email, I received an email from a buyer who had made me an offer earlier on the ring. This is it, I thought! The email freaking worked! I am going to be the email chain letter sending queen of the internet now! I'm a believer! I opened the potential buyer's email only to find....she rescinded her offer. FREAK. So, no big deal...EXCEPT...that damn chain email DID seem to have some sort of spookiness to it! Did it really predict the time that I would receive that email or is it one of those things that so much happens in life that I could have attributed any event to the email no matter what time it predicted? At ANY rate. It WAS news I was waiting to hear. It was NOT good news. (And the email even had pictures of angels in it! What's up with that??)

The next time I receive one of those emails (there will be probably 12 today in my inbox), I'll pause for a moment....but only for a moment before I hit that delete button with my Liberace flourish!

Damn...I have enough bad luck on my own without angel laden emails to help me out! Gave me the heebee jeebee's too.

Go Speed Racer Go!

Joe to Emma: When Daddy was a little boy his favorite show was "Speed Racer"

Chris to Emma: Daddy was a geek.

Football, soup pots and skinny girls

SO the Packers won...did I mention that I'm a Packers fan? HEY HEY...don't go away...that's not what I'm going to write about. (GO PACK...couldn't help myself)

On Friday night, while I was at Greg's game, I did a fair amount of people watching. 1. So that I didn't have to watch giant boys running into my kid and B. Because it's infinitely more interesting than watching football.

High school football has changed alot since I was in high school. We spent most of our time yelling out cheers we'd made up while we sat in the stands (mostly to tick off the cheerleaders who couldn't get a cheer in edgewise) . Now the cheerleaders are more polished than ours ever were and there are mostly only parents in the stands. We had a parent who would bring a large soup pot to games along with a huge metal spoon. She stood on the sidelines and beat that pot for all it was worth until one night another annoyed parent de-spooned her. That's okay...she just beat it like a bongo instead...no one tried to amputate her hands. I'll bet her kids wanted to though.

I was watching the high school kids this past Friday. Almost every single girl looked like they needed to be held down and force fed a sandwich. SO THIN. The "dance squad" (when we were in the school they were called the "kennel club"...they were all a little on the woofy side) came out shortly before half time. They wear these little one piece, black, form fitting, teeny tiny uniforms and carry tiny pom poms. They are all very very skinny. Emaciated in some cases. Why do girls feel that's necessary to be beautiful? Not one of them had curves. Their faces were colored only by the make up they wore and not by the rosy glow of health. Emma and I were on our way for popcorn and I saw two of them standing and talkng. One was so thin. She reached down at one point and clutched the area over her abdomen as though she were in pain. Being someone who has struggled with bulimia in the past, my imagination began to wonder if these girls are hurting themselves to look the way that they do. And for what? Two minutes every other Friday in front of a small town crowd who is only half watching because the 50/50 raffle is going on at the same time.
It makes me sad, what society demands of girls..or makes them think they have to demand it of themselves. I remember the feeling that I had to be thin when I was in high school. But never to the point that it would have occured to me or any of my friends to take extreme measures to get to that status. (I didn't get to that until I was in my thirties). I look at Emma's round little baby curves and hope that she doesn't ever hate her body enough to harm it to be thin. But now I'm getting all Oprah on you.

The rest of the scene Friday night was pretty unremarkable. Parents I'd never seen before, a high school band that couldn't seem to get the whole marching thing down. I've never seen so many legs moving in different directions in my life. Our band leader would have been clutching his chest on the sidelines. We used to sell candy bars in the activity room, and now they have a sophisticated concession area selling grilled pork sandwiches, pizza, popcorn, several different drinks, tons of candy and snacks of all kinds. So much has changed.

The good news for Greg is that since Emma talked me into that cow bell...I can leave my soup pot at home.

Kids cartoons aren't the same anymore.

As I'm recovering from shoulder surgery, I've been subjected to watching the kids' shows that Emma likes on television. I've been so disappointed in the content of the shows. It's all learning and sharing and good lessons. WHERE are the giant underpants?

Ballet - year two

Emma started her second year of ballet today. She had no idea that class started today because had I mentioned it earlier to her, she would have been like a cat clinging to a screen door wanting to get to class. She LOVES ballet. She attended class last year too but when it got down to the recital there were some "issues" that caused me to hesitate about participating. We were all ready. Bought the required 65 dollar bumble bee costume and the special tights and shoes. But as it turns out, the recital is two days in a row and is over FOUR HOURS LONG both days. NOPE. Not this mama! So now we have a 65 dollar , bumble bee costume for Halloween which will then be making it's grand appearance on Ebay for your consideration.

This morning I said "Em...ballet is today" and before that last vowel cleared my lips she was a blur running by me to get her slippers. She was FRANTIC. "We got to get dressed, where's my shoes, I have to go PEE!!!" We finally got it all together, hair up, tights on, cute little pink thing on and were on our way. The parents aren't allowed in the classroom for ballet. We sit in the waiting area and have our own little Parent Therapy Session. It's the best part of the whole deal! It's incredibly comforting to know that your child is not the only child who has only eaten chicken nuggets for 3 consecutive years and probably has a cholesterol of 400. We have discussions about mind boggling issues like: Which is better...the Wiggles in concert or Finding Nemo on Ice. (By the way that was a toss up). I know at the end of the class, Emma is always sad that it's over because she loves it so much....I'm sad it's over too...because I know I won't get reassurance for another week that I'm not causing severe mental and physical issues with this child by being her mother.

I amaze even MYSELF.

My 15 year old Greg is a freshman this year. He's been asked to play on the sophomore football team. I assume this is a good thing since it seemed to make everyone in the household who has testosterone get all puffy chested. I just managed to live through my oldest son getting through 4 years of football and now I have to get a Xanax prescription for another four years while Greg runs into other giant boys....ON PURPOSE. I keep trying to talk him out of playing..."you know I don't think you should play"...."But Mom...I like it"...."I think that mole on your leg looks funny...you shouldn't play." He never listens to his mother and now when that mole grows hair because he played football, he's going to wish he had.

So tonight was a home game. I packed up Emma who wasn't sure if she wanted to go to the football game because she said they might "shoot" her. Unless the rules had changed alot since last year, I assured her that we'd be okay. We found my Dad sitting in the stands with my ex-husband. We had a megaphone, programs, way too salty popcorn, bottled water. All the required elements of being a good football fan. I spent most of the game asking "where's Greg" and scanning the ground for twisted injured players. During the third quarter, Emma's interest in walking up and down the steps of the bleachers began to wane. Just in time, one of the booster club moms came through our area with a basket of "fan necessities"....you know...colored bead necklaces, signs on sticks, and big hand painted noisy cow bells. Now a smart mother would have said "hey gimme some of those beads" and handed them to her gleeful three year old thus becoming football mother of the year. But I said (idiot idiot idiot) Emma do you want to pick something?? PICK SOMETHING??? PICK SOMETHING??? Give a three year old a basket of stuff that contains large brightly painted cow bells and do you really THINK she'll pick the necklace...you're RIGHT! "Six dollars please!" chirped the booster club mom. Emma held the cow bell like it was the Holy Grail. My ex husband raised one eyebrow (wait, that would be both eyebrows since he has a unibrow) and said "this should be interesting". My Dad put his head in his hands. And then it began...ringing for good plays, ringing for bad plays, ringing for the cheerleaders, ringing for every person who walked by...I make my own hell, ya know? My oldest son was in the stands with us and said "MOM you are so DUMB". I looked at him evenly and then said "Hey Emma! Eric wants you to wake him up with your bell everytime he falls asleep this weekend!" Emma happily hugged her bell and said "I LOVE THIS BELL! I think I can cut that clapper out of there with wire cutters....I figure if I slither into her room on my belly wearing camoflage in the dead of night...I just MIGHT get away with it.

Not the sharpest crayon in the box

At our house, one of our hobbies is messing with the dog's head. It's fairly easy to do because Peaches is not one of those dogs that you're going to see in the newspaper anytime soon. You know the dogs I'm talking about. The Lassie kind...warning their owners that Timmy is in the well, or the house is burning down...that's not Peaches.

Just an example, Peach is the kind of dog that barks when the automatic icemaker drops ice in the bin in the freezer. This causes her to launch into a frenzy of wild barking that makes you think that Satan his very horned self is outside the back door. I was eating chicken noodle soup from a mug with a spoon recently and every time the spoon hit the side of the mug there was crazed, frantic barking. Hypersensitive you say? I don't think so...because this VERY DOG just ignored the newspaper hitting the front door with a CRASH when the news-kid delivered it. See what I'm saying here? Newspaper -> NOTHING. Icecubes -> FRANTIC BARKING.

So because she's so stupid...ahem..mentally deficient...no, no I was right the first time...stupid, we take the opportunity to mess with her. Our favorite game is "hey...let's go get donuts". All we have to say is "Peach...want to get the donuts?" and for some reason she does that funny thing that dogs do when they cock their head to the side and look all cute...know what I mean? (see picture above). So we say it about 130 times just to get the really cute reaction and she is so dumb, she does it every single time! Let me point out that Peaches has never gone to get donuts...either with or without us. She's never even eaten a donut. We don't even BUY donuts. Why she gets all intrigued and inquisitive when we ask her if she wants to go is just beyond us..but it's fun, and we're bored, so we keep doing it. Eventually, she makes a flying leap off the back of her security post (the sofa...gotta be on the look out up there for ice cubes) and whirls madly around while we interrogate her about getting the donuts. It ends the same way every time too...she keeps whirling madly and we always remark on how incredibly stupid she is and go back to reading the newspaper.

Now that I think about it, she's probably not the dumb one....she probably figures..."you freaks mess with me and I'm going bark EVERY DAMN TIME those ice cubes fall...we'll see who messes with WHO!"

Sauce Guy is clueless

First...let me point out that I'll bet MONEY that I'm the only person on the planet that has said the sentence "Sauce guy is clueless". I always enjoy those small moments of thinking that I'm totally unique...

ANYWAY...I've mentioned before...somewhere in this blog...I think...that I work for a doctors office. We have a variety of sales people who come to our office to peddle thier "stuff". They're all really nice and usually all ridiculously good looking and young. And they all bring us LUNCH. Really good lunches with really big cookies...I digress. After awhile, they all sort of run together with their company shirts and free pens and sticky note pads. Once in a while, one of them will do something to distinguish himself. One of those guys is Sauce Guy.

Sauce Guy sells some sort of surgical instrument. Couldn't tell you what he sells, but frighteningly enough, I know that he collects mustards. Yes. Mustard. He loves mustard and collects jars of interesting mustards (not interesting JARS, interesting MUSTARDS) and has a whole mustard collection at home (cough geek cough). One day, he brought one of our surgeons a jar of hot giardinara sauce. The surgeon LOVED it and put on everything from pizza to donuts. Okay, I'm lying about the donuts, but the guy put it in SOUP one day and that's where I draw the line. That's just weird! But hey...he's a surgeon...so whatever. Anyway, from that point onward we called this sales man SAUCE GUY! Hey Sauce Guy is coming for lunch. Hey Sauce Guy brought us a ten pound tub of grapes! Hey, we love Sauce Guy!

Sauce Guy (real name is Rob) came for lunch today and brought the required really big cookies. His wife is expecting a baby in November. We quickly got off the subject of surgical equipment and honed in the whole baby thing. He says "so I'm pretty new to this father thing...can I try to make her laugh during labor?" The new nurse in our office is a former OB Labor and Delivery nurse and without missing a beat she replied "not if you don't want your penis ripped off with her bare hands".

You DIP!

Set the scene: Emma is wearing pajamas with wildly striped bottoms and a top that says "Miss Fancy Pants". Eric is sitting on the sofa with his laptop watching Emma who is eating cookies at the coffee table....and ACTION!

Eric: Emma...what are you doing?
Emma: Eatin cookies and dancing...see it's ballet (she twirls with her hands over her head)
Eric: No...I mean with those cookies...are you dunking them?
Emma: NO
Eric: Well you're dunking your Oreos in that cup....what's in that cup?
Emma: Lemonade (twirl)
Eric: You're dunking your Oreos in Lemonade?
Emma: NOOOOO.....(twirl) I'm DIPPING my cookies!

18 year old logic

So Eric's friend Ethan has recently gone away to college. Eric is staying here and is working and attending community college for two years. Today I asked him if Ethan liked school.

Eric: I think he's liking it better. He says he drinks everyday.
Me: Oh...that's not good. He's killing brain cells that he needs for school.
Eric: The way Ethan sees it as that he has too many of them anyway and he's weeding out the weak ones.

She already knows how to deal with men

Yesterday, Emma went to my parents house for a playdate with my nephew, Sean. Nice of them to give my brother and his wife and Joe and myself some time to do something "sans kids". Emma and Sean ADORE each other. He's seven and they have a ball together. ANYWAY...Dad decided to take them to the village park. When it was time to leave the park, Emma had one of her meltdowns. Arm-flailin-screamin-leg-kickin high speed come apart. So, Dad had to give her a swat on the bottom. They went home and Emma of course was still weeping. Dad told Mom what happened and he felt just terrible for having to have swatted her behind. Mom talked to Emma and explained to her that she had to listen to Poppie. She told Emma that she should tell Poppie that she was sorry. Emma avoided it for as long as she could, but finally gave my Dad a hug and told him that she was sorry. Then she looked at him with huge tear filled blue eyes and said "Please don't make me cry again". And that was it. He melted into a pile of grandfather goo. She'll be good with her husband someday. She already knows what she has to do.

Don't Know Much bout Geography

Joe: Can you get to the ocean from Chicago?
Chris: Ummmm...
Joe: You know...by water
Chris: Well there's the St Lawrence Seaway and the Mississippi River
Joe: Which oceans do those go to?
Chris: The Atlantic and the Gulf of Me-hi-co
Joe: What about the Pacific?
Chris: Gotta carry your canoe on your head a really long ways.

Rubble shoveling

Every once and a while (like when we can't get her door all the way open anymore) I try to sort toys in Emma's room. It's brutal. It's best done when she's not around...which is NEVER. Yesterday while her father was mowing the yard (which she insisted on watching), I set her up on the front porch with a variety of Dora toys. Dora talking minivan, Diego talking jeep and trailer and Fairy tale Dora horse and carriage. It was a Nick Junior Marketing Executive's dream come true. She was happy as a clam and I issued one of the standard MOTHER COMMANDS "and STAY on this PORCH!" She nodded happily and stuffed Diego upside down into the driver's seat of the van.

So I went back in the house to her room (don't worry, I had the window open where I could see the front porch to watch for child abductors and aliens from other planets) and I started THE SORT. I'm telling you...the worst was the ankle deep layer of Happy Meal toys. I think she has every HM toy ever produced and two or three of some of them. Which doesn't say much for the nutritional habits of our child, but then again that's why my mother calls her Saturated-Fat Girl. Anyway...I was about half way through sorting the castle people from the farm and the zoo people, and had all the naked babies in a pile on the bed when I heard a little voice in the doorway. "MOMMY. WHAT are you DOING??" Busted. I scooted the pile of "weird" HM toys under the bed that were on their way to the garbage and said "Em! I'm cleaning up your room!" She looked at the piles and the already organized bins in her closet and started to point out which toys could NOT be in the bins with certain other toys. Pretty soon she had it all dumped out again. Naked babies mixed with teddy bears, pink feather boa wrapped around her neck, HM toys, toy horses, farm people and castle people were all intermingled into one big conglomerate pile. I mentioned that Dora and Diego were getting awfully lonely on the front porch. She picked up a naked baby wearing only blue Cabbage Patch shoes and said "I'd rather help you Mommy". Finally Joe came in and distracted her long enough with something so that I could finish picking up the Lite Brite pegs from under her bed, in her closet, in her shoes, under her TV etc and get them into one Little Mermaid Tea Set cup. We had everything finally off the floor, in it's proper bins, castle people living in the castle, farm people communing with the cows. Bed was made, pillows fluffed, Care Bears all arranged at the head of the bed. You could walk! You could close doors! You could SEE THE FLOOR! She was playing happily on the floor with several horses from the castle in a room that had been mayhem only a couple of hours before. We'd done it. The beast had been tamed! We turned to leave the idyllic scene of our daughter playing on the floor in the room and as we left, Joe accidentally tipped over one of the horses she was playing with. "DAD! You're MESSIN stuff UP!" Well now we know where she gets it.

At the ready....

So this is what I'm talking about. We actually FEED and HOUSE this dog and this is what we get in return. Sleeping like a slug on the back of the sofa for hours and hours at a time. Gypsies, tramps and thieves (music comes up in the background) could break into our home and steal all of our money and precious metals and she'd open one eye to look at them, but only to see if they might be carrying a tray of hamburgers or perhaps be eating a tortilla chip. Now...if a ladybug fell off a leaf in the back yard...YAPORAMA begins and ends with all of us being hoarse from yelling "SHUT UP PEACHES" and Peach being carted off to the laundry room. I don't think her gene pool was chlorinated.

Yapzilla

This is Peaches. She is a pomeranian (read as CONSTANT YAPPER). A fly farts two counties away and she will bark for an hour. She sleeps roughly 18 hours a day, perched on the top of the sofa so that she can be aware of any interlopers that may wander into perimeter of her kingdom (the front and back yard). God knows she wouldn't want to miss any yapping opportunities. I spend most of my time yelling "PEACH...PEACH...PEACH... SHUT UP" as she happily barks until we drag her to the laundry room so that we can have 30 seconds of yap-free time. Notice how her eyes seem to take up most of her head...which is very very small. I don't think there's alot of room up there for neurons to fire, if you know what I mean.

Can't beat a sprinkler

If you really want high intensity screeching from a three and a half year old...put the sprinkler on in the front yard. Glass shattering screeching. And then add two parents yelling "EMMA STOP SCREAMING". I think we broke several village noise ordinances. Once we got her to breath in between screams, she decided that she would try to drink the water coming out of the sprinkler which resulted in mostly water going up her nose which of course caused her to...you guessed it...SCREECH. And a good time was had by all.

Tea party at the puppy hospital

Emma has a friend over today. Excitement is running high. They've been catching grasshoppers, picking tomatoes and generally screaming every four or five minutes as little girls tend to do. We had locked the dog, Peaches the Pomeranian AKA the POM (Peaches insists that her name be documented that way), in the laundry room as punishment for constant YAPPING at the friend. Oh..PETA people, you'd do it it too after an hour of YAPPING. Anyway...we released the POM from the punishment after she quieted down. The girls SQUEALED when they saw her and snatched her up and made off with her to Emma's room. They've put a pony tail holder on her tail and attached a tiny crown to her head and are playing "puppy hospital" and "tea party" . Emma just proclaimed "She's STYLISH!". They've just decided that they are going to have a "tea party at the puppy hospital" because "those are ALWAYS good!". Peach just came running out of Emma's room wearing the crown, with a silk flower stuck through the pony tail holder on her tail and a pinwheel attached to her collar. Laundry room looks good now, doesn't it Peach?