Sudokugirl

Bronwen TV

2009-11-11T08:03:00.000-08:00

Bronwen has started to write her own songs. As you might expect, this utterly delights me. Every song she makes up fill me with dreams up future stardom, or at least dreams of her life being filled with music.

Dan gave me a mandolin for my birthday. I have always wanted to learn to play the mandolin. But it is also the perfect size for Bronwen to play.

The night I opened my present, she sat with it for half an hour playing and making up songs. The best song was the one that described everything I was doing as she was singing. It went something like:

“Mommy is cleaning up. She is picking up my shoes.
Mommy is throwing away the trash. There is a lot of trash.
Mommy wants to give me my juice…” (At which point I did indeed give her the juice.)

This kid is hilarious, and an absolute pleasure to sit back and watch. As Chris likes to say, “You’ve gotta love some Bronwen TV.”

Mother's Guilt

2009-06-24T07:05:00.001-07:00

Truthfully, I feel a little guilty about the whole potty training thing. I was so anxious about what would happen, how it would happen and if it would happen, I kept putting the whole thing off. Then the lady at daycare started bugging me.

“Bring in panties,” she would say to me everyday.

“Oh, she’s not ready for that yet,” I would say sneaking out of the door.

“Bring in panties. She’ll be ready.” She kept bugging me and I finally felt like a jerk not bringing them in, so one Monday I picked up a 10 pack of underwear and brought them in.

“She’s doesn’t really want to wear these,” I said smugly as I left them in her storage box at the daycare.

A week later Bronwen was potty trained and only wearing pull-ups at night. a week after that, no more pull-ups.

So, I feel pretty guilty because I didn’t have to do any work. We had two accidents (which, frankly, were hilarious) and then nothing. No stress, no worries, nothing.
Sometimes, when I start feeling that “daycare guilt” that working mothers can fall prey to pretty easily, you know, where you think that you are a bad mom for putting your kids in daycare, like they would be so much better off if you stayed home with them. But then, daycare potty trains your kid in a week and you realize that they actually know what they are doing and that your kid is thriving and healthy. Of course I wish we could spend everyday hanging out, but it does make things feel a little better.

Breakfast

2009-06-11T05:55:00.001-07:00

Bronwen in the Garden

There is nothing like a bean straight from the plant or a tomato, still warm from the sun. This morning before Bronwen and I got into the car to speed off to our respective day jobs, we took a walk together in the garden. After last nights thunderstorms the air was clean and cool and the plants were vibrant and healthy looking. Bronwen stopped to touch every developing tomato and pepper; she poked every flower. The string beans had doubled in size since yesterday. I snapped off bean after bean and we munched them in the cool morning of the garden.

Flossing For Fun

2009-05-08T11:15:00.000-07:00

I have recently taken a fervent interest in flossing. I’ve never really flossed my teeth, despite what I tell my dentist. I have always felt that my teeth are too close together so flossing is literally a real pain. But ever since my last dentist appointment, I have been flossing like a maniac.

During this recent cleaning, the hygienist, who I have never met before, really went at my mouth with the floss. I was pretty sure she was going to slice right into my jaw bone with the string. It was actually quite painful. But when I got home and the pain had started to wear off, I sort of felt, what I am going to call a feeling of “floss-fit.” Like a nicotine fit where you just have to have a smoke, my gums were jonesing for more flossing.

Ever since that day, I have had at least a once daily floss-fit. Suddenly I have become the person who has floss in her purse. I have become the person who flosses at a red light while driving to work. I have always loathed the excessive mouth hygiene people, and now I am halfway to becoming one. At least I only brush my teeth once daily.

Aggressive Friendliness

2009-05-05T12:15:00.000-07:00

I just got a spring cold and I am officially on the exciting and nauseating ride that is the cold medicine roller coaster. This afternoon, after my very satisfying Cinco de Mayo dollar tacos at El Azteca, I returned to the office feeling very bad. Chills, fever and overall aches; I was not happy. Then I took my cough medicine and waited for the relief to wash over me. I didn’t even realize that I was feeling better until I found myself walking down the hallway being aggressively friendly to relative strangers.

“Hey, how you doing?” I practically shouted in this guys face. He looked taken aback, but through his quick thinking was able to retort,

“Good, how about you?”

“Great!” I shouted back at him. “Thanks for asking!”

Just an hour ago I would have scowled, or at best ignored the guy. With my medicine I was practically ready to be best friends. Got to love the stuff.

This past summer my brothers and sister and family all got together for a week at the NJ beach. My sister in law Heidi, who I adore, is a born and raised Kentucky farm girl and she is aggressively friendly. As we walked around the little beach town she greeted every person we passed as if he was an old friend, which New Jersey folk don't really like and find suspicious. It was amazing to watch people step back, or stare at her or worst, just ignore her. It actually became a joke and we called her our "special" cousin from Kentucky.

I think it is kind of sad that being so friendly is seen as weird or uncouth. I enjoy the thought of a world full of Heidis, all smiling and asking "how ya doing?"

Where Will Shiitake Kickers Go next?

2009-05-04T06:36:00.000-07:00

During the first season of kickball last year Cavin was visiting and came to watch a game. Sometime during that game I convinced the coach to give Cavin the one remaining Shiitake Kickers shirt with the promise that Shiitake Kickers t-shirt pictures would be taken in Vietnam.

Here is the most recent photo! Thanks Cavin and Sunshine!

Ha Long Bay, Vietnam

Bestway to Beers

2009-05-01T12:26:00.000-07:00

There is a crappy little local grocery store about a mile down the road from us called Bestway. I have been shopping there for years on account of its being right across the street from the laundromat where I used to go to wash my clothes. Recently Bestway was bought out by a private investor who has taken great steps to improve and update the place. The very first thing he did, and I think this is brilliant, was remove the wall of produce racks that were, in the past, half empty with substandard fruits and vegetables. In its place, and stretching from one wall of the store to the other, is a beautiful, gleaming new beer and wine case. In this case they have put more different types of beer than I have ever seen in one place every. It boggles the mind.

The last few times I have been in there (and I have been going there with an increased frequency) I have stood slack jawed in front of the case for long minutes just appreciating the view.

The last time I was there I decided that each shopping trip must consist of the purchase of a new beer, never before tried inour household. Here are the first three new beers and some notes regarding their taste, bottle, and overall experience.

Lucky Buddha

Obviously, it was the bottle that forced me to pick this beer first in our quest to try them all. It is from china. It is a very light lager, akin to Heineken, but with less bitterness and body. Not a beer I would drink for the flavor, but I loved holding that fat Buddha bottle. I will have to get it again as I gave the first bottle to Chris and I need to have one of my own.

Hitachino Nest Beer, XH

This beer has an owl on the label, so it had to be drunk. Also, the opportunity to try beer that has been kept in sake casks could not be passed. I didn’t really like it. It was a little too sweet and had a strange aftertaste that I am still struggling to define, like soap, or cleaning chemicals; weird, but worth a taste. Plus, now I have the cutest owl bottle cap for my collection.

Ridgeway Bitter

This beer is a happy surprise. I am not usually a huge fan of bitters, but this beer is wonderful. It is medium bodied, smooth and flavorful, (or should I say flavourful?) It is slightly sweeter than bitters I have had in the past, but it is certainly not too sweet; absolutely delicious.

Yummy

2009-04-30T09:58:00.000-07:00

This is my new favorite blog.
http://scanwiches.com/

Zip-lock of Destiny

2009-04-29T12:22:00.001-07:00

This story started about a year and a half ago when Ian brought over a whole squid to add to the grilling surplus at Bronwen’s first birthday party. At the end of the party he left at our house a large zip-lock bag filled with squid for future use. I promptly threw it into the abyss that is the freezer and never saw it again until last Friday when, while digging around for something to defrost for dinner I happened upon a rock solid, frozen bag of squid.

“Do you think I should throw this out?” I asked Dan.

He scowled at me, so I walked out to the garbage bin and tossed it in and promptly forgot it.

The next weekend some friends came over for dinner and kept complaining about the stink coming from the garbage bin.

“Yeah, we forgot to take it out last week,” I apologized, not even thinking the bag of squid could have anything to do with it.

Yesterday as I was wheeling in the garbage bin I was perturbed to discover that the bin, although recently emptied, still reeked. I lifted the lid and saw a scrunched-up zip-lock bag at the bottom of the bin. I reached in to pull it out for closer inspection. That is when I realized that I was standing in the middle of my driveway with a zip-lock bag full of swollen wriggling maggots.

Disgusted, I dropped the bag back into the bin and continued dragging it towards its storage place. The stink was even worse when I parked it, and as my flip flop slipped and my barefoot squished into rotting squid flesh that had somehow ended up on the ground behind the garbage I had the sickening realization that I would never be able to eat squid again.

Shoeless Shiitake

2009-04-27T19:59:00.000-07:00

Kickball started out on the wrong foot this evening. As I stepped out of my car to walk down to the field, I realized that the reason I felt so comfortable was that I was wearing my flip flops. With only ten minutes to the start of the game, and no one to fill in for me, (we'd have to forfeit if I couldn’t play) I whipped out my cell phone and rang Dan with an urgency of one trying to make the deadline on tax day at the post office.

“Dan, get my sneakers, socks, no it doesn’t matter what kind, and get over here as fast as you can!”

I waited in the parking lot, counting down the seconds. As I saw my coach climbing the stairs to look for me, Dan finally did a drive by and tossed my socks and sneakers out the sunroof. I grabbed and ran.

It wasn’t until I was standing in the dugout flinging my flip flops, keys, cell phone, and water bottle on the ground and scrambling to get my damn shoes and socks on that I realized that the both teams were on the field watching and waiting for me so we could start the game.

Fortunately, thing improved from there. I got on based every kick, and despite a number of errors on our part we came away with a 9-3 win over the Fighting Christians.

Go Shittake Kickers!

Urban Farming

2009-04-27T08:18:00.000-07:00

I spent the day yesterday planting and I am exceedingly impressed with the results. Here is what I planted: tomatoes (5 different types), peppers (5 different types), eggplant, cucumber, watermelon, peas, string beans, carrots, zucchini, herbs (mint, cilantro, basil, dill, parsley). I also planted peonies, coreopsis, and other flowers. I am very pleased with my little urban farm. Next comes the goat!

As I was huffing and puffing away I imagined the day when I would cook up an omelet with peppers, tomatoes, and herbs, and slices of fresh watermelon for dessert. It is immensely satisfying to be able to produce you own food and I can’t wait to start reaping the benefits.

The Chickens Have Arrived

2009-04-26T05:24:00.001-07:00

I was nervous when we pulled into the parking lot of the Farmers Feed and Seed in Kernersville NC. I was sure I would be ejected as a farm ignorant city dweller, that the people working there would snigger at my questions about chickens, and that I would generally embarrass myself. No body made fun of us and the staff at the feed and seed store was wonderful.

We first considered the chicks in the back warehouse. There were little white chicks and fluorescent orange ones. Both required time under a heat lamp as they were too young to live directly outside yet. Dan didn’t want the hassle of the heat lamp and all that, and I agreed, so another gentleman walked us across the street to a fenced in area behind an old store front. This fenced in area was lined with hnadmade rabbit cages filled with tiny bunnies, and at the far end I could see chickens milling around inside a large coop. My initial nervousness on entering the store was nothing compared to the way my stomach sank when the gentleman helping us opened the rickety coop and I spotted the largest chickens I have ever seen. (I am pretty sure I have never seen chickens up close before, so it is hard to say how these chickens really compare to all chicken breeds.)

I almost called it quits right there. What the hell am I supposed to do with one of those monsters? Bronwen kept sticking her head in the cage and I was afraid they would peck her eyes out. The guy helping us started on his chicken education spiel. He grabbed a dark red hen and with fingers under each wing he flipped her over to show us her “vent” which he said we needed to periodically check for lice.

“Oh, she’ll lay in the next two weeks,” he informed us and went on to describe how he could tell. The rest of the conversation was a blur.

We ended picking out two pullets (young chickens that are older than chicks but not fully mature) instead of four as I was convinced the monsters wouldn’t fit into the coop we designed, stuffed them into a very small box, picked out the rest of our supplies and headed back to Greensboro.

Harmony and Cordelia explore their new home

Back at the house, the chickens seemed instantly at home, pecking at worms and rolling in the dust. I forced myself to hold them for a bit to reduce my fear. They’re not so bad. After the initial shock and having had some time to watch them act like chickens I have decided that they are really quite cool; little dinosaurs walking around in the backyard.

Urban Chickens

2009-04-13T11:08:00.000-07:00

So the chickens have kind of become an obsession. I find myself thinking about, talking about, or planning for the chickens pretty much everyday. I think I am starting to get burned out.

We finished building the chicken run this weekend and as of this very moment we are ready for chickens to inhabit the home we have created. There are a few more security measures that we need to take care of as I have seen foxes in the neighborhood and friends more familiar with chicken rearing have suggested some upgrades, like a secure coop door for nights.

The Todd Coop

I am looking forward to finally getting our little chicks and seeing what this chicken world is all about. I have read so much about the Urban Chicken movement; I am wondering if it really is all it’s cracked up to be.

Fort Lauderdale Airport

2009-04-08T07:37:00.001-07:00

The Fort Lauderdale airport is deceptively small. When I arrived it seemed that the terminal was only slightly larger than the Greensboro airport. The short walk to the baggage claim was clean and the signs were easy to follow. The baggage claim was manageable, and it only took a few minutes to get our bags. It wasn’t until I was on the rental car shuttle bus, driving past terminals 2, 3, and 4 that I realized that my initial assessment of the airports size was wrong. It is quite large; the outside of the terminals reminded me of the LAX.

My return to the airport was far more exciting than the arrival two days prior. I returned my thoroughly trash filled car and followed the signs to the airport shuttles. I hopped aboard the “Port Everglades” bus, shoved my luggage on the storage shelves and sat down, feeling very satisfied with myself and my superior travel skills.

It wasn’t until the shuttle bus was leaving the airport that I realized I had gotten on the wrong bus, which is funny, because all of the signs were there way before the moment we left. Like when the bus driver shouted “Masadam is first,” I should have thought, “What airline is that? That doesn’t sound familiar.” And when we drove right by my terminal I should have thought, “Hey, I needed to stop there.” But I didn’t because I was so proud of myself for being such a great traveler; I just sat back and reveled in my accomplishments. The reveling stopped as we pulled into the docks in front of the first cruise ship.

We stopped at three cruise ships before we turned around to head back to the airport. It took about 45 minutes from the time I got on the bus to the time I was returned to the Avis Rental Car center (the driver wouldn’t take me directly to the terminal, even though I begged him and showed him my nicest smile.) I got onto the right bus, “Terminals,” and made it to the ticket counter and hour after I had arrived.

Fort Lauderdale also has the best airport food. I had a Greek Plate with dolmades, hummus, feta and olives and greek salad. It wasn't cheap ($11.95) but, it was fresh and filling, better than fast food and it was easily portable.

Shiittake Kickers Win First Game of the Season

2009-04-02T10:52:00.000-07:00

Shiittake Kickers are back in full force last night as they whopped the Hi-Gravs with a score of 14-5 in the first game of the season . This season there are a few new teams with incredibly fun names like Where My Pitches At and Swift Kick in the Grass. But after two season of inconsistent play, the Shiittake Kickers are looking strong, with a new pitcher, a new coach and renewed desire to win!

Next game is Monday, April 6th. Come cheer us on as we battle the new team Bam!.

Airport Review - Philadelphia, PA

2009-03-25T20:42:00.000-07:00

Have you ever taken a bus into New York City’s Port Authority? You start your ride in some calm New Jersey suburb, and gradually make your way into one of the most exotic, exhilarating and overwhelming cities in the world. The time in the bus is generally quiet, you close your eyes, and then you arrive. The inside of Port Authority is like a mall, overly shiny full of crap you don’t need, but subdued. Then you exit the building and you are swept into the concrete valleys that are the streets of Manhattan. The wind snaps your jacket around your legs, you walk a little faster, you clutch you bag a little tigher, your hearts races a little; it’s great! That is what it is like to walk down the jetway into the Philadelphia airport. It was like being squeezed from the womb into the blinding lights, noise and colors of a foreign world. The hallways leading from gate to gate are lined with credit card salesmen, food stands, jewelry stands, and books stands, and I could hear customers bargaining and arguing as I strode by. Of course there is also the hot pretzel stand, selling traditional Philly Pretzels, 3 for $3. This is the first place I go whenever I fly into Philadelphia. It is something I thoroughly look forward to. In fact, I have flown into Philly in the past to my own inconvenience just so I could get my pretzels.

The walk to the baggage claim is a little long, and I always have to wait a long time for my luggage to show up, so those are my two complaints about PHL. Overall it is an older airport that seems to run well, is full of stuff, and is pretty easy to navigate.

Leaving Philadelphia to go to Florida was less of an enjoyable experience. Terminal A was over heated, dirty and old. But the pretzels were soft and salty and the people were nice.

Looks Just Like Me

2009-03-19T09:32:00.000-07:00

This morning Piper ran screaming into our room.

"Ellie, Bronwen just made a face and she looked just like you! It was crazy."

I guess that happens when you have kids, the screaming I mean. But today I was so desperately bored that I actually googled my name. I am not sure I've actually done that before. Anyway, I came across this.

She looks just like me!

Bathroom Etiquette

2009-03-18T12:44:00.001-07:00

Choosing the appropriate bathroom stall is a complex process, filled with rules, addendums, and criteria that must be sorted through, agreed upon and followed to ensure a satisfactory bathroom experience for all. When my rules (which, naturally, I assume everyone knows and agrees to) are disregarded, I just can’t seem to get over it. What is up with everyone’s poor bathroom etiquette? Am I the only one who knows that you should never take the stall directly next to one already in use, unless it is an absolute emergency? So, I want to know from you out there, when choosing a bathroom stall, or urinal, what considerations do you take into account before you can have a comfortable bathroom experience. Or am I just crazy?

Brownen Goes to Eleven

2009-03-18T11:47:00.001-07:00

Bronwen likes to count. She likes to count toys, books, peas on her plate. She likes to count while I drive her to and from school. And she likes to count while cuddling on the couch. She can count to 11. But she does have a little problem when it comes to counting. She gets stuck in a loop and doesn’t know how to stop.

Listening to a little kid count is positively charming. Probably because it is amazing that kids learn numbers so early, but also because, for a kid, counting is a deliberate and enthusiastic event. When Bronwen counts she sounds out each number, her tone rising as the number increases. “Won-na! Two-a! Tha-reeee! Fo-wer! Fi-va! etc” Lots of kids make it to “Ten-a!” and stop there. Bronwen goes to eleven.

“Ten-a! Eleven! Eight-a! Nine! Ten-a! Eleven! Eight-a! Nine! Ten-a!....” She gets stuck in a loop (8, 9, 10, 11) and just keeps going.

Dan and I first discovered “Bronwen’s loop” this past weekend. Piper and Bronwen were playing hide and seek upstairs. Piper, as usual, was bossing her little sister around, making her count, while she hid. 1, 2, 3…11, 8, 9, 10, 11, 8, 9… It went on for awhile, her voice rising until finally she stopped the loop at a random “Nine-a!” It was hilarious.

Dan thinks that she says “eleven” and thinks “seven” which is why she keeps going back to eight. That makes sense to me. Nonetheless, I have been encouraging her to count to twelve to see if it will break the cycle. I will let you know what happens.

I'm Talking Mommy

2009-03-11T05:42:00.001-07:00

Not only has Bronwen started talking, she has come to a realization that she is speaking well. Last night the two of us were having a full on conversation. She was telling me how she hit a school mate in the face and I was explaining to her the downfalls of hitting. She was asking me questions and I was answering, and I was asking her questions and she was repeating them. She kept telling me, “I’m talking mommy.” All in all it was a pretty good conversation.

Isn’t it amazing to think the Dan and I contain all of the genetic information needed to create another human? Our combined cells created a human that not only has learned to use language to express herself, but remembers that there was a time when she couldn’t speak and realizes that she has learned how. That is amazing to me. I can’t imagine what it will be like when she starts playing an instrument, or writing and reading, or someday driving? Does it get less amazing as they grow?

All New Items Added

2009-03-10T18:37:00.000-07:00

Please visit my pottery blog to view new items.

B at the Super G

2009-03-09T11:27:00.000-07:00

I know this makes the fourth blog entry in a row about little Bronwen, but I can’t help it. She is so freakin cute, and continues to do things that amazing and delight me. Kids...

Bronwen Strikes Again

2009-03-04T13:25:00.000-08:00

One of the best things about your children growing up is the time you get back to yourself. When you have a small human crawling around your house finding every death inducing hole, poison, and heavy object you don’t have much down time, unless you can convince her that staying trapped in a pen is really fun. As you might image, Bronwen was never much interested in that.

Now that she is a little older, and we’ve learned what needs to be plugged up, hidden, or moved we have a little more time to ourselves to read, nap, whatever.

This has led to some funny and irritating messes, cat food on the couch, markers on the wall, random objects moved around the house. But lack of supervision last Sunday afternoon has led to my favorite crazy Bronwen event so far.

Imagine the scene. I tiptoed quietly into the livingroom to find Dan and Bronwen cuddling on the couch. Dan was napping and Bronwen was playing with a toy. I whispered across the room, “Hey Bronwen.” She turned to look at me and here is what I saw.

Dramatic Representation

“Bronwen! What is on your face?”

She didn’t answer. I grabbed her and took a closer look and realized it was mascara. Waterproof mascara.

Somewhere in the midst of the face scrubbing, and was wiggling and fussing, and my trying to figure out how the heck she got the tube I just starting laughing. This child is going to keep us on our toes. And everyone is going to be wondering about those black eyebrows at daycare on Monday.

Considerate Bronwen

2009-02-24T11:32:00.000-08:00

On Sunday as I was busy cleaning the kitchen and chatting on the phone Bronwen was busy trying to force feed the cats. It is one of her favorite things to do. She fills up each of the cat food bowls so that they are brimming with kibble. Then she scours the house for each cat.

“Boo Boo Kitty, where are you?” she sing songs through each room.

When she finds the cat, she will place the over-filled bowl under his/her chin and will proceed to yell at them.

“Eat, Boo Boo Kitty. Eat your food,” she shouts.

This is usually when I pipe in “Stop yelling at the cats, Bronwen,” at which point I hear her whispering loudly, “Eat your food, Boo Boo Kitty!”

On Sunday as I was cleaning up I saw her fill up the three bowls and take them to the living room. But I must have been busy because I missed when she slid the 15 gallon container of cat food across the kitchen floor, through the dining room and into the living room.

I hung up the phone and continued to do the dishes. It was then that I noticed a distinct lack of Bronwen noise. I listened carefully. She was whispering,

“Eat your food, Fay.”

I walked into the living room to ensure that Bronwen wasn’t forcing Fay's head into his feeding bowl (she likes to do that too.) I stopped dead in the doorway. Here is what I saw: Bronwen was standing next to the couch with the open cat food container on her left and the couch on her right and an empty cup in her hand. Fay was sitting on the couch on top of a crumpled up blanket that I had tossed aside after my nap earlier, surrounded by mounds of cat food. It was heaped up around his legs and in front of his face. It spilled over the blanket onto the couch, into the cracks between the seat cushions. Fay looked like a Sphinx, long lost in a secret underground cave, surrounded by gold coins, piled as high as his head.

I wanted to laugh; I know that she was just trying to enable Fay to eat without having to get up. But it was a mess and I was angry that I had to clean it up.

“Go to you room, Bronwen,” I growled. She laughed at me. “Seriously, go to your room!”

I took the cup out of hand and sent her stalking out. Only then did I start laughing.

Learning to Let Go

2009-02-04T06:00:00.000-08:00

I had a great conversation with my dad last Monday that resulted in my experiencing a revelation. We were discussing the challenges of raising an extremely independent and headstrong two year old. I was expressing my frustrations; she always wants to do things her way, and we are usually not moving in the same direction. But by the end of the conversation I came to realize that

1. It is good to have an independent child. Isn’t that the ultimate goal of any parent? As much as we want to have our little babies stay little babies for ever, our goal should be to provide a child with the knowledge, skills, practice and support needed to go out into the world and be successful. Plus, someday I want to have the house back to ourselves!

And

2. I should be leveraging her need to be independent to help her to learn skills and to help me get things do too!

So, last Tuesday morning I tried an experiment based on my new ideas (and some feedback from my dad) about helping Bronwen and I get things done. Most morning recently have been a struggle, I fight her to get dressed. She fights me on everything. So I tried this.

I gave her a new diaper, outfit, socks and shoes and asked her to get dressed and walked out of the room. I went back to doing my hair in the bathroom. Every few minutes she would say, “Mommy, help.” And I would help her with the crooked sock, or the pesky latches on her shoes, but then I would go right back to the bathroom. A few minutes later she walked into the room fully dressed, proud of herself and ready to go to school. AND, I was ready to go too! It was perfect.

As a parent, I am always in a hurry. My taking some extra time, I can let her try, make mistakes, and try again, without being totally freaked out, and stressed about getting out of the door. Now, Bronwen can dress herself, fetch a juice box, climb into her car seat, put on her own jacket, and open the front door (that one is a little scary), all things that make my life easier and help her to be better prepared to go out into the world someday.

Foul Weather

2009-02-03T11:11:00.000-08:00

I think I turned into an old grouchy grandpa this morning when Piper’s school was cancelled for the tiniest little bit of ice, which subsequently melted by 9am.

“When I was a kid, we had to shovel our way out to the school bus, the snow would be over our heads. We never got a day off of school, no sir,” I lectured her as I was dressing for work.

“We would be half dead before we got to the bus. And I am pretty sure those buses has chains on the tires. And there was no heat in the bus; we would huddle together for warmth. But did we complain? No. You kids these days don’t have to deal with any hardship. Everything is done for you. How are you ever going to learn to survive in the cold, if you never have to go out into it?”

Fortunately Piper ignored my huffing and puffing and stomping around the house. But seriously, when did I turn into my own grandpa?

The End of an Era

2009-02-02T11:19:00.000-08:00

Today I went to the dentist and got my very first filling. I should be happy that it took 32 years before I got my first cavity, but I am kind of ticked off that I got one at all.

After I left the dentist, my face fully paralyzed, drooling all over myself, I had to go straight to work to a meeting where I had to talk a lot. It was embarrassing, and sort of funny, in an embarressing way. Now the numbness is gone, but my whole mouth aches. This sucks. I am going to make it up to myself later on by chewing on some aluminum foil to see if you really do get a shock. I always felt left out when all the other kids got shocked, but not any more!

Adventures in Car-land

2009-01-26T13:44:00.000-08:00

Saturday night we discovered that the keys were locked in the car. I didn’t need the car until Monday; so it wasn’t until Sunday afternoon that I actually started the process of recovering my keys which ended with me being $210 poorer and without a car for the week. Please read and learn from my mistakes.

Mistake #1: When looking for a locksmith, trust your instincts when creepy men answer the phone and do not invite them to your house to unlock your car. After talking to what sounded like a half asleep or perhaps drunk man with an unrecognizable accent and telling him where I lived and what I required, I was left with an indeterminate anxiety. When the young man, Ron, showed up 10 minutes later, and I was told that it would cost $155 to ease a modified hanger into the window to pop open the lock, I realize that there was a reason to feel stressed.

“No way am I paying that to get into my car.”

“Well, you still owe me $35 for showing up,” Ron said apologetically.

“No thanks, I will find someone else.”

“Let me call my manager,” he said sheepishly. Ron was a young guy and I think he wasn’t sure what to do with this situation.

“Let me get my husband,” I said and walked inside.

When we came out Ron had a new offer for us (which in hindsight I probably should have declined). He said that he could do the whole “job” for $90.

“Fine,” I said. And he went to work with the unraveled hanger with Duct Tape on the end.

As he got ready to leave, and I was handing him my credit card he said,

“Oh, we only take cash.” Dan was really mad now. I felt sorry for Ron.

“Okay, let me drive to the bank and get you cash. Do you want to wait here?”

“No, I will follow you there.”

“Suit yourself,” I jumped into my car, turned the key in the ignition and nothing happened.

“Drive me to the gas station and I will get you cash,” I told him and we took his rental mini van down to the BP so I could get charged $2.25 to give him $90. Damn it!

Mistake #2: Don’t try to roll your car down a hill backwards into the street that goes uphill. After Ron dropped me off, we started to canvas the neighborhood for jumper cables. Dan turned his car around so we were hood to hood and I started calling people. Unfortunately we couldn’t come up with anything. What we should have done is asked for a ride (my car was blocking Dan’s) to the car stuff store to purchase our cables. Instead, my idea was to roll the car down the driveway, onto the street, at which time I would turn the wheels and continue rolling down hill to park somewhere nearby. Here is what happened when we attempted our ill conceived plan.

First, did you know that power steering, and brakes don’t work when the battery is dead? I learned that on Sunday as we started to roll backwards and I was stomping my foot down on the brake but nothing was happening. Fortunately, I remembered the handbrake just in time to start easing backwards. Unfortunately, I remember the handbrake, so I wasn’t going fast enough at the bottom of the drive to start backwards up hill on the road. So, I got stuck, with the car half turned, with the rear sticking out into the road and the hood wedged up against a bush. Dan tried to push the car uphill, but as you might imagine, it was too heavy to move. I managed to force the wheels enough to one side to roll a little more into the bush and Dan was able to slip the Beetle between my car the stairs so that he could go get cables.

Mistake #3: You should turn on the other car that is giving you a jump when jumping your car. I guess I missed that in the directions. Needless to say, my car didn’t start.

Mistake #4: Not calling AAA when this entire event started. If I had called to renew my membership with AAA at the very beginning of this debacle, I would only have had to pay $114, and my car wouldn’t be stuck in the middle of the road, drawing the attention of all cars trying to get by.

I called AAA and renewed my membership and they sent out a tow truck. I already had an appointment at the mechanic tomorrow for a new axle, so I figured I would get the car over there a day early and make Dan drive me around for the next few days.

The tow truck arrived 30 minutes later. I rushed outside to sheepishly greet my rescuer.

“What’s going on here?” he laughed as he lumbered over to me. Carl, the tow truck driver, was huge, 6’6’’, 250 pounds. I was a little intimidated. I explained the whole situation and at the end he was laughing heartily.

“Well, I hope you didn’t do any damage rolling your car into the street. Let me give you a jump.”

“But I already tried that with my husband’s car,” I said.

“Is that his?” he gestured to the Beetle, “That ain’t gonna work.”

So he proceed to jump my car, and talk all about the old Dylan album his just found in his truck (The Greatest Hits) and how his wife hates Dylan but loves the Grateful Dead, and how his 16 year old daughter wants to go on tour with the Dead but he can’t understand that because they’re just not the same since Jerry died. I really liked him. He jumped the car and I drove it right back into the driveway, giddy with the success.

Mistake #5: Never drive your car away from the tow truck that jumped it until you know your battery is really going to hold a charge. I left the car running and Carl walked up the drive to have me fill out some paperwork before he left. He wanted to make sure that everything was okay before he left so we chatted for a minute while the car was running.

“Hey, I used to have that sticker on my car (Save the Tatas) but my boss said it was unprofessional so I had to take it off,” he told me.

“No way, it’s all about breast cancer awareness,” I said.

“I know,” Carl replied, “I told my boss, hey you like boobs don’t ya?”

“Who doesn’t like boobs?” I asked.

So we finished our paperwork and I turned off my car.

“Let me just try that before I leave,” Carl said and jumped into my car. It didn’t start. And now it was at the top of the driveway, completely inaccessible. He didn’t seemed worried.

“I probably shouldn’t show you this, but, well, hop in.” He opened the passenger door for me from the inside. I got into the car and he proceeded to show me how to pop the clutch to start a car that is rolling down the hill. He suggested that I leave the car running and take it to the shop to get the battery checked.

At the end of the day, I was sad that I had had to spend my entire day, and entire savings, dealing with this car issue. But retrospect beautifies this one. I got to meet two guys from different worlds from my own, everything turned out okay in the end, and I got a good story to tell. Life's little adventures are certainly amusing.

Fabric Brains are Cool!

2009-01-01T09:58:00.000-08:00

There are so many strange and amazing fabric arts happening these days. These crocheted and quited, anatomically correct brains are amazing. Check it out.

http://harbaugh.uoregon.edu/Brain/index.htm

New Years Traditions

2008-12-30T12:46:00.000-08:00

Up to a million people go to watch the ball drop in New York City every new years eve. This year will be no different, with the unveiling of the new Waterford Crystal ball making its debut drop. But people in other parts of the country will be having just as much fun dropping other things from great heights to count down the seconds until the New Year. This year I am wishing that I could get to Clays Corner in Brasstown, NC to watch the annual Possum drop on the Possumtron big screen. Based on the pictures on the website, it is a wild, non-alcoholic celebration, where men dress up in drag and dance around, and prepare themselves for the 'Little Miss Brasstown' Pageant.

Here is one of my favorite testimonials from the webpage:

Was sure glad to hear that the '05 possum was LIVE. As anyone who has ever kicked a dead cow on a late night coon hunt and seen three possums roll out of it knows, possums are just naturally curious. I am sure the ride in a limo and then the trip up and down for the drop made this possum's day! Steve White Killduff, IA USA

Sometimes I wish I had grown up some place like that. Good ole country folk who think dropping possums is hilarious. I totally agree.

Parent and Child Compatibility (using the stars!)

2008-12-17T11:01:00.000-08:00

When I got pregnant a few years ago, I signed up to receive weekly email updates from a site called Babycenter.com. Each weekly email would describe the growth of the fetus and give healthy pregnancy tips. For a first time mother it is a great site for reference info. Now that Bronwen is two, I still receive weekly updates with tips for dealing with picky eaters, tantrums and potting training. This morning I received my weekly update. I clicked on the link “How tall will your child be?” but somehow ended up at the main page where I discovered the headline story for the week:

New! Mother and baby horoscopes
Get a parent and child compatibility report
What the stars have in store for your family this week

Now, I am one to indulge in a little horoscope silliness sometimes. I don’t actually believe that being born at a certain time of year determines your personality and destiny. But horoscopes are written so that you can get whatever you want to get out of them. I was, however, a little disturbed to see parent and child compatibility reports. Here is what I imagined one might say:

“Ooh, too bad. Scorpio mothers and Leo children just really don’t work together. Try again.”

You can see my problem here. What do you do if you and your child are not compatible; put the kid up for adoption? And what about the people out there who really believe in this stuff?

So I did a little research. I entered all of our information in to the mystic internet to see what this mysterious compatibility report would say about our little family. Here are the results:

Scorpio parent and Pisces parent

You two blend your gifts and talents to make a remarkably effective parenting team. You complement each other, and your strengths compensate for one another's weaknesses. Emotional connection and sensitivity are but two of the qualities you share. The Scorpio parent is deep and intense, with a specific concern for safety and security. You'll work hard to take care of your children. You prefer to keep family matters private and may even have difficulty expressing your most poignant emotions. Your children will open your heart to new ways of feeling. The Pisces parent has no difficulty in showing emotion. In fact, you wear your heart on your sleeve! You're a real softie when it comes to your kids. It's hard for you to say "no" or to enforce your own rules consistently. Don't let your kids take advantage of you. Firm discipline demands the respect you deserve.

I especially like the part where we will "work hard to take care or you children?" What normal parent wouldn't work hard?

Scorpio parent and Leo child

With her sunny, warm, passionate energy, your Leo child is a natural leader. She's the center of fun at her numerous playdates; even a walk to the park often results in little Leo charming a group of new friends. This makes you smile proudly, amused by your little one's natural popularity -- and quite relieved that she takes the focus away from you. Center stage is not your bag, (so not true!) so it's a good thing your child thrives there! Your little Leo is quite aware of her own power, which is very different from yours. Still, she depends on you for a solid, dependable emotional base and needs your positive support and feedback. Though outwardly fearless, she's nearly as sensitive as you are! Good thing you're emotionally attuned and self-aware enough to be the strong foundation your little Leo needs to thrive.

Pices parent and Leo child

Your Leo child's energy and confidence amaze you. This little person is so passionate! Like you, she craves adoration, which you shower over her. Unlike you, she thrives on being the center of attention. Yes, this kid is a natural performer, and her impromptu performances and occasional dramatics are all intended to keep everyone's eyes on her. That's not a problem as far as you're concerned; you've been awed from the start by the sheer power your little Leo emits. (With all that power she emits she glows like a Christmas tree!) But you're also intuitive enough to understand that behind her proud, courageous exterior exists a sensitive, vulnerable heart.Little Leo is very family-oriented, just like you, and she needs every bit of the affection and support you can give. You're a wonderful parent to this complicated child because you're able to respond to her inner needs as well as her more obvious outer ones.

Scorpio Sibling and Leo Sibling

Both these children are sensitive, passionate, and stubborn, and they both crave your affectionate devotion, so their rivalry can be intense if they start to compete for your attention. (Because no other siblings ever compete for attention!) Good thing they get along well for the most part and show each other respect.Little Leo wants to be the center of attention and keeps the whole family laughing. That's okay with complex, observant Scorpio, who is happy to sit back and watch the show, if only to store up information for later. Yes, little Scorpio can be devious and even manipulative! And when those powers are turned toward her sibling, well, let's just say Leo doesn't know what hit him.The good news is, these two actually enjoy this cat-and-mouse dynamic. It's like a game to them: Scorpio enjoys feeling in control, and Leo loves to think he'll finally be able to best his sibling.

It is hard to imagine that someone might read these comments (which seem pretty generic anyway) and customize his/her parenting style based on the advice listed, but truthfully that is my fear. It is pretty clear (after imputing some random different signs to make sure) that whoever wrote these horoscopes has only positive things to say. I didn’t find any incompatible parent/child matches, so I guess that is good. But that is besides the point. I think parent/child horoscopes should stay off of sites like Babycenter.com which in the past has always tried to present itself as a site where important health (science) and parenting (psychology) information is available for reference. Having the main article on the site be about parent/child horoscopes decreases the site’s credibility.

Bronwen the Bully?

2008-12-09T12:21:00.000-08:00

Yesterday Bronwen told me,

“I bite L on the arm. I hit L in the face.”

Needless to say, I was a little concerned. So, I spoke with her at length about the importance of kindness and tolerance (“not that you want to be a push over,” I was sure to mention) and the importance of keeping your hands, and your teeth, to yourself. She seemed to understand me, she cried a little, and then we sat down to watch a movie.

Today, when I dropped her off at daycare I asked her teacher about these supposed behaviors. S looked positively surprised.

“No! I have never seen her do those things. She is very good with the other kids. I mean, sometimes she will push back, but that is normal.”

Well, at least we don’t have to worry about her being a pushover, I thought to myself.

“Okay, well I was just checking. She said something about biting and hitting, and I wanted to make sure that she isn’t beating up on the other kids.”

“Absolutely not!” S said looking appalled and a little offended.

So now, here is the new problem that I am having. Either Bronwen is lying about biting and hitting, making her a little sociopath, or she is a bully. Either options is a little upsetting. I think I will pick the third option, she is probably just fighting back. I mean, just check out that bump on her head. These kids can be brutal!

They Might Be Giants Nominated for a Grammy

2008-12-05T12:32:00.000-08:00

TMBG has been nominated for a Grammy in the category of Best Musical Album for Children. Here Comes the 123s is a great kids album Check it out.

Dancing Toys

2008-12-03T06:19:00.000-08:00

I have never been able to figure out why people actually buy those funny little dancing holiday toys. Like the dancing Santa that bops away to “Stayin Alive” or the Chipmunks that dance and sing Traditional Chipmuck Christmas songs. They seem like such a waste of money. But today I figured out the perfect market for these toys, children daycare facilities. At Bronwen’s daycare there are about seven different dancing and singing toys at the front door for all holidays. There were a few turkeys that gobbled and discoed for Thanksgiving. Halloween was great with dancing ghosts that moved across the floor. But Christmas has been the best so far for singing and dancing toys. This morning as I was leaving the building a small child was giggling away at the “Exercise Santa.” This prone Santa, when activated my a small red button on the front, does crunches in time with the techno music emanating from the side of the toy. It is actually hilarious. I am glad that the days of Billy the Big Mouth Bass are gone (my dad had one!). I really can’t figure out why anyone would buy something like that, unless it was a gift for someone you don’t like. But having these toys at the daycare are great. I have seen five kids gathered around a dancing turkey, dancing their little hearts out, over and over, until their parents drag them out of the building.

Unexpected Snow

2008-11-21T10:28:00.000-08:00

This morning Dan’s phone was ringing incessantly. From about 6:30am to 6:45am we received three phone calls from Piper’s elementary school.

“What is going on?” I groaned as the cell phone message tone started dinging. “Check the messages!” and I rolled back over to get at least 15 more minutes of sleep before my alarm went off.

“Two hour delay due to snow,” Dan startled me awake.

“What snow?” I rolled over towards the window and pulled back the curtain. The unusual brightness the comes from sunrise on a newly whitened world made me pull the covers back up around my ears.

“Snow” I breathed into my pillow.

There is something magical about waking up in a world changed by weather. Suddenly, the impossible seems possible, and the mundane is transformed into the fantastic. Snow, and especially ice, coating the trees, disguising the dirty, broken, and old, making things glittery, changing the smells and sounds, adding excitement and danger to the world.

It also makes me want to stay in bed.

By midmorning the snow was gone. The last remnants dissolving in the shadows, like a familiar dream forgotten.

Dreaming of Tsunamis

2008-11-18T06:42:00.001-08:00

Last night I dreamt of tsunamis. I dreamt that I was on a small island with a group of people that I didn’t know. It was dark and stormy and the ocean waves were crashing dangerously on the rocky shore. There were kids playing near the water and I kept trying to get them to move back from the sea into the jungle. I was screaming, but no one could hear me over the waves. Suddenly the sun began to rise and the water became curiously calm and oozed away from the land. Out and out it went. Some sort of collective consciousness made us all realize that this strange wave behavior meant tsunami and we all started running across the island away from the water.

We jumped onto a wooden boat that reminded me of a mini Noah’s Arc and as the wave came back in we floated safety further inland. As the waves retreated, we all knew there would be more, so we jumped into a field which was lower than the rocks in front of it. As we lay on our bellies in the grass, we could see the waves surging back towards us. As the waves crashed into the rocks in front of us, they dissipated into a fine mist that rained down over us, cooling us from the tropical sun.

Best Birthday, Ever!

2008-11-16T08:27:00.001-08:00

This entry marks the official end to my 32nd birthday week. And what a week it was. Last Friday, Dan and I were settling down for a mellow night, when there was an unexpected knock at the door. Dan walked over to see who it was. He turned around and walked right back into the room. “It’s for you.” he announced and as I got up to see who it was, my amazing friend Kym, who lives in California, leaned in to say, “hi!” Have you ever had the experience where someone you know and love but who lives far away shows up at 8pm on a Friday evening with no warning? I was fairly mind blowing. Kym’s arrival marked the beginning of what became an amazingly fun birthday week.

On Saturday we went to the roller skating rink to celebrate my rockin’ n rollin’ roller derby birthday. It was so much fun, and I only wiped out once! After an hour or so, (roller skating is a lot of work) we headed back to our house for drinking, food and merriment. I got a new stump! Dan made a fire in the fire pit, and we played Guitar Hero, all of my favorite things. It was a great party.

Eleanor Bruisevelt will knock you down!

On Monday, my favorite brother in law, Matt, arrived on the 6:30pm train from Philadelphia. The house was full of people, which I love. Over the week, we played Catan, and Apples to Apples, and cards, and hung out. It was very fun.

Kym went back to California on Wednesday, and Matt left on Saturday. Last night Chris and Phil came over and we played poker for hours. I was the first time I had ever played poker, and I am looking forward to winning back come of the chips next time!

All and all, a wonderful week; if this keeps up, 32 will be the best year yet.

Seat Heaters are Weird

2008-11-10T08:42:00.000-08:00

It is cold. It wasn’t cold until yesterday. Last week we were having 70 degree days. Right now it is 47 degrees outside. Cold.

This morning I had to remember all of the tricks I use to get the car windows free of frost before I start driving. I had to make sure that Bronwen was warmly wrapped up, and I tested out my car seat warmers that I always forget about and that came with the car. The seat heaters work by heating up the seat and back from the inside after you have flicked a switch. You can set the seat heaters on warm or extra toasty.

Here is the problem with having seat heaters in the car. This morning I flicked on the switch to warm (extra toasty is too hot!), let the car warm up for 10 seconds, then backed out of the driveway to take BB to school. It was maybe 2-3 minutes later, when I was racing down the highway, that I started to feel a strange sensation that I was urinating on myself. It actually took me a few seconds to remember that the seat heaters were warming up, thus causing that sensation. It was so weird that I had to turn them off.

Cheeky Bronwen

2008-11-06T07:28:00.000-08:00

There is a book that I love to read to Bronwen called Peek-a-boo Farm. Each page asks,

“Peek-a-boo, who are you?”

“Oink, Oink!”

Then you lift a flap on the page and it reveals the animal saying something like,

“You’re a messy pig!”

Since it from our English family, I always read it out loud in a silly, and horrible, English accent. The last page is the best. It says,

“Peek-a-boo, who are you?” and when you lift the flap there is a mirror and it reads,

“You’re a cheeky baby!”

I love to say that last line in a high-pitched, crazy lady English accent. I find it hilarious. Dan thinks I am insane.

The American Heritage Dictionary has the following definition for cheeky: Adj. Impertinently bold; imprudent and saucy. Bronwen fits the description perfectly; and when she is naughty and pulls that little cheeky grin, I just can’t help but laugh.

This morning I told her to put on her shoes and socks and she sat down on the living room couch to start the process. I walked back to the bathroom to finish getting ready for work. I peaked out once to see how she was doing; she had one sock on one foot, with a shoe soon to follow.

“Are you getting those shoes and socks on Bronwen?” I asked her, returning to the bathroom.

“Yeah,” she replied.

I was in a hurry so I left Bronwen to finish getting ready and made my lunch, got my phone, grabbed her jacket and went back to the front room expecting her to be finished. I turned the corner to find Bronwen completely barefoot.

“Bronwen!” I said exasperated. It was then that I noticed the cheeky grin. Then she lifted her arms into the air and on each hand was a sock and shoe, the MaryJanes perfectly buttoned up and ready to go. I couldn’t stop laughing, even as I pulled the socks and shoes off her hands and quickly got them onto her feet.

“You are a cheeky baby!” I told her as we hurried out the front door.

“Cheeky,” she replied.

Now It's Our Turn

2008-11-05T08:02:00.000-08:00

Whether you are Republican, Democrat, Libertarian, or believe, as I do that Josiah Bartlett should have been elected president, there is one thing we can all pretty much agree on. Government cannot solve all of our problems. There are certain things that the government does really well, but when it comes to the greater issues of our country, it will not be the government that creates change; it is going to have to be us.

So now that we have elected Barack Obama, the senator that ran the “Change Campaign”, it is time for us to start our work. We cannot simply sit back and become complacent in the knowledge that our new president is going to make everything alright. We are going to have to lead the charge, stop complaining, and do something. We cannot leave the public service to the politicians.

This is an amazing day. My parents were born before the Civil Right Act of 1964. It wasn’t that long ago that blacks were not even allowed to vote; and today our president elect is an African American. If that isn’t progress, I am not sure what is. But we can’t stop there because not only good things happened today. Proposition 8 in California passed. There is obviously still work to be done.

What is our responsibility? Work at the local level to make change. Make changes in your own life. Stop complaining and do something. Get together with your neighbors and friends and change the things that you want changed. Obama worked his ass off to get where he is today. We should be working too.

Bronwen's Good Day

2008-11-05T06:30:00.000-08:00

See Bronwen's blog to find out more!

Go Vote!

2008-11-04T06:00:00.001-08:00

Today I exercised my constitutionally granted right to vote. I marched right up to the polling station and stepped into line at exactly 6:23am. At exactly 6:34am the doors opened and we made our way, quietly, into the basketball court where the voting stations were set up. I waited patiently in line, reading, and periodically gazing before and after me in line to see who I knew. I saw Scott (the ninja) and Brent (the bar tender) and a few others. These people are my neighbors and I felt happy and proud to be gathered with them this morning.

At last I got my chance to vote. I glanced at the clock, 7:23am, exactly one hour from the moment I stepped into line. Not too long a wait to have my say.

Now all I have to do is play the waiting game. I am not really sure how I am going to get anything done today. If you haven’t already:

GO VOTE!

Phil and Stacie Get Married

2008-11-02T16:39:00.000-08:00

It was a gorgeous afternoon, yesterday, when Phil and Stacie "tied the knot" overlooking the butterfly garden at the Greensboro Arboretum. There were 14 people looking on as the two exchanged vows, rings and kisses and then dashed off to their house to set up for the after party. We had a great time drinking, eating and spending time together after the ceremony. Congratulations Phil and Stacie!

God Bless the English

2008-11-02T05:47:00.000-08:00

This is hilarious. In an annual event believed to date back to 1646 the townsfolk in Battle, UK blew up an effigy of Sarah Palin. Click here to see pictures.

Happy Halloween

2008-10-31T07:22:00.000-07:00

Fire

2008-10-29T13:03:00.000-07:00

The office caught on fire yesterday. Isn’t that every cube-dwellers dream? The office burns down and work is cancelled and everyone gets paid to head to the pub for the day? Fortunately no one was hurt; unfortunately, we did not get out of work.

As the fire alarm began blaring we sat around discussing whether or not we should leave the building. We’d had a fire drill the day before, so we weren’t sure what to do. However, the risk management manager arrived to tell us to leave and we pushed into the throng of people jostling down the stairwell.

Once outside, we huddled together against the cold in our respective departments. One person from each group shifted between departments to find out what had happened. All that I know after the 45 minutes outside is the following:

1. A vendor left a box on or near the stove in the test kitchen.
2. The box caught on fire.
3. The fire department doused the fire and half of the fifth floor so that a number of people had to move their stuff down to the next floor.
4. There was a lot of smoke damage.
5. As of today, it is still wet and smelly upstairs.

I have been able to use the excuse that we had a fire at the office a few times today to shirk my own responsibilities, but the end of that excuse is fast approaching. Oh well, back to work.

City Hotel & Bistro

2008-10-26T17:27:00.000-07:00

I have just return from a week in Greenville NC where I set up residency in the City Hotel & Bistro. I had heard mixed reviews and after viewing the website I really didn't know what to expect.

I arrived Monday afternoon to set up the classroom for the next day. The conference room was huge, and filled with black chairs covered in suspicious stains. The service at the front desk was courteous but slow. My room was fine. There were lots of HBO channels.

Then there was the Bistro. Monday night, according to the website, is free pool. Maybe I am just snooty, but in my mind bistros and billiards are two separate things. The bistro at City Hotel and Bistro is not a bistro. It is a dirty, smelly bar with a few old pool tables, crappy service and free karaoke on Wednesday nights. The bar/restaurant (I refused to call it a bistro) doubles as the breakfast room where hotel patrons can consume nasty fake eggs, flaccid bacon, and sometimes, if you're lucky, reheated frozen french toast sticks. (That's it! The french toast sticks must be why they call it a bistro!) The other problem with eating breakfast in the bar is the smell left over from the night before. There is something truly stomach churning about eating breakfast surrounded by the smell of stale cigarettes and warm, day old Bud Light.

I am not sure what Greenville is really like. All I saw was a bunch of pirates (ECU) and a series of chain restaurants. Perhaps I will return there someday to explore more. And, I would stay in the City Hotel and Bistro again. I grew kind of fond of that dirty bar and its inhabitants. (I did spend every night there.) And it was only $64 a night!

One Year Later

2008-10-13T07:13:00.001-07:00

Wow. It was a whole year ago today that Dan and I got married. It was a wonderful day; it raced by in a blur. The wedding was everything I wanted it to be.

This past year has been filled with a few rough moments, but mostly it has been filled with parties, and travel, and barbeques in the backyard. It has been filled with outdoor guitar jam sessions, cribbage, Sh*t Head, and Settlers of Catan. It has been filled with Sudoku, crossword puzzles, and Stump! It has been filled with good food, good drink, and good friends and family.

Dan- I love you more each day. Happy Anniversary.

Bronwen Turns Borat

2008-10-02T12:51:00.000-07:00

For those who have seen the extras on the Borat movie:

Yesterday at the grocery store Bronwen and I were walking around the store looking at different things and talking about them. We hit the cheese case and for those of you who have not been to a Fresh Market, there are over 300 different types of cheeses in the case. Bronwen started at the very beginning of the case with the Mozzarella.

“Mommy, what’s this?” she asked, poking her little finger right into the soft cheese.

“That’s cheese,” I replied.

“What’s this?” she poked the smoked mozzarella.

“Cheese,” I said.

“What’s this?” she poked the sliced mozzarella.

“Cheese,” I said.

“Mommy, what’s this?” she poked a wedge of brie.

“More cheese.” I said.

“What this?” she poked the next wedge of brie.

“Even more cheese.” I said.

“What’s this?” she poked the triple cream brie.

“That’s cheese.”

(5 minutes later)

“Mommy, what’s this?” she poked the herb goat cheese.

“Cheese.” I groaned.

A couple hundred cheeses later we started down the dry goods aisle.

“Mommy, what’s this?” she poked the box of penne.

“Pasta.”

Check Out My New Haircut!

2008-10-01T10:24:00.000-07:00

Another Month Bites the Dust

2008-10-01T07:41:00.000-07:00

Why is it so pleasing to cross yet another month off the calendar? Shouldn’t I feel stressed out because life is passing me by? Maybe it feels good because I actually accomplished something, even though that accomplishment is simply surviving through another month. Regardless, I look forward to the first of each month to pull out my orange highlighter and X off the previous 30-something days. Hooray.

Obama in Greensboro

2008-09-30T12:07:00.001-07:00

On Saturday morning, after walking a three mile charity walk to raise money for Juvenile Diabetes research, we drove downtown to see what was happening with the Barack Obama visit to Greensboro. Since the debates were on Friday, I was interested in hearing Obama’s response to his performance. Plus, it is always cool to see a famous politician up close, or at least in person.

We parked the car in that always unused parking lot between Bellemeade and Friendly and headed up towards Elm Street. There were people walking the streets, but not many. I thought for sure that we would have no trouble getting into the Washington Street Depot to see Obama and Biden. As we strolled casually through the alley between the Marriott parking lot and the hotel, you could see the crowd of people lining up down Elm Street. We started to pick up our pace, the energy of the crowd drawing us towards them. As we emerged from the mouth of the alley, we were greeted with an amazing sight. For as far as you could see in both directions, up and down Elm Street, there were thousands of people lined up. I guessed the line was at least 10 blocks long, but I couldn’t see the either end from where we were standing.

“What do you want to do?” I asked Dan.

“Let’s walk.”

We started to walk down the street towards, what looked like the end of the line. Truthfully, we hadn’t even planned on actually trying to see Obama and Biden. We had just come to see what was happening downtown. As I looked down the sidewalks full of people, I knew there was no way we were going to see anything.

We kept walking.

We had only been walking a minute or two when a wave of motion caught our eyes. We saw, about a block down from us, the streets began to fill with people. The crowd swarmed off of the sidewalk into the street, moving briskly towards us. The cars on Elm Street were engulfed by people and were unable to move. Dan, Bronwen and I stepped off the side walk and got swept into the mass of people pushing forward. The wave stretched before and behind us, the space between people shrinking as we tried to squeeze ourselves into the finite space between buildings. There was no way out of it. We were moving quickly. I got nervous about Bronwen in the stroller so Dan put her on his shoulders and we kept moving. It took us about forty minutes to move from Bellemeade to Washington Street; it didn’t seem too long as the mass of people kept moving forward all the time. Finally, we could see the Depot, and as we turned onto Washington Street, I freaked out. There were about 7,000 people in front of us, and 10,000 people behind us, and metal retaining gates in either side of us. I wanted out, and I realized there was no where to go.

We staked our claim on enough space for two adults, along side of the metal gate and waited for the show to begin. I couldn’t see anything but the back of peoples’ heads in front of me, and peoples’ faces behind me. The only way out of the crowd was to look at the sky. The sky was gray and it was drizzling.

Obama spoke for about 30 minutes. He was articulate and funny and I liked what he had to say. But my favorite parts were when he got 18,000 people to cheer, or laugh, or groan together.

No Gas! Again.

2008-09-26T10:25:00.000-07:00

Greensboro has no gas. Let me clarify. As of this morning all of the gas stations within driving distance (my gas light has been on for two days) were out of gas. Even the $4.29 a gallon type, which I still would have purchased, being that I needed to get to work, was out. I returned home, called Dan and had him drive Bronwen and I to our respective places.

Does this make anyone else a little nervous? Maybe I am too used to this American life of relative ease. One in which gas stations always have gas and grocery stores always have food. What is going on here? How can it possibly be that there is no gas in Greensboro? Is this going to be the future for us? Fill up your tank when the gas is available because you just never know? I know that other countries live this way. I also know that gas is not a renewable resource. But I live here because I know what to expect. And I expect gas to be available.

What? Huh?

2008-09-22T09:51:00.000-07:00

I was just in an elevator with the man that delivers sodas to the office. Here is the conversation that took place as the doors closed and the elevator started up.

“That’s a lot of soda,” I said, pointing out the obvious and displaying my amazing ability to make the most ridiculous small talk with anyone I meet.

“Yup,” he said. “I already done the fourth floor. I got to it before they did.”

“Oh, yeah?” I replied because I couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“I try to get here early, but there is only so early I can go. But it hadn’t even been touched when I got here. So now they won’t have to do it themselves” he explained.

“Okay,” I said.

At this point the door opened to the fourth floor and I stepped out.

“Thanks,” I said, although I have no idea why I should have thanked him.

I have no idea what he was talking about. What is “it” and who normally touches it? Why is he taking care of “it” instead of “they”; and who is “they”?
Hopefully he didn’t figure out that I was confused.

This it the Best Thing Ever!

2008-09-21T14:44:00.000-07:00

If you are not deeply involved with the award winning series The West Wing right now, (we are disc 2 of season six), then you might not find this as wonderful as I do, but still, check it out. Because if you are not watching The West Wing, then you are most certainly following the longest campaign season in history!

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/09/21/opinion/21dowd-sorkin.html?em

Shittake Kickers vs. Just For Kicks

2008-09-19T05:17:00.001-07:00

Shittake Kickers faltered last night in the last two innings as a couple of errors lost us the lead, ending the game against rival losers (they have never won a game) Just For Kicks at 7-9. Our team kicked well during the game. I actually made it on base two out of three times. In the seventh inning first baseman “Momma” made some spectacular outs. Our pitcher stopped the ball a few times, and I caught a pop-fly to right field with my face. Well, I guess I didn’t actually catch it. More like, it bounced off my face and onto the ground. Ouch!

Chris, Dan and Bronwen cheered from the stands, while Nicole and Talula supported us next to the dug-out. Our new team IPod player blasted awesome music from the sidelines while we did our best to let the other team win. We wanted to be nice…

This season we have some great kickers, catchers and a lot of team spirit. Go Shittake!

Avast Me Harties

2008-09-19T05:17:00.000-07:00

It is International Talk Like a Pirate Day. So, swab the deck, scurvy dogs.

Two More Primes Discovered

2008-09-15T13:16:00.000-07:00

Because I am a dork and love stuff like this, I have to let everyone know that two new prime numbers have been discovered! Not only that, they are Mersenne Primes, meaning they can be expressed as 2^n -1. This is a pretty big deal as it takes about two months to test a number for “primeness.” Read more about it here.

Can't Stop Crocheting

2008-09-12T11:23:00.000-07:00

Fall is upon us, or at least it was in Toledo, and the urge to crochet has taken over once again. I was going to write a long entry about crocheting and the need to grab a skein of yarn and a hook every fall, how the urge is damn near uncontrollable and how in the last week I have whipped out two hats, four and a half scarves, and a flower. But then I found a blog entry from this time last year that said exactly the same thing. So forget it. But I will be taking pictures of all crochet creations and posting at Happy Hooking, so check it out. All of this stuff will be going on sale in November, so if you want it before then, let me know.

Detroit Crazy Tunnel - Video

2008-09-12T07:27:00.000-07:00

Flying out of a major US airport on September 11th can be a little unnerving. Everyone seems to be thinking about the 2001 airplane crashes, abut no one is saying anything. The terror alert color was Orange as we approached the terminal. Security was anxious and busy as we moved into the main terminal. I thought that on a day like this, the crazy tunnel would be tuned down to allow for some calm and comfort when flying on such a day. Apparently, no one at the airport thought it would be a problem, as the crazy tunnnel was even crazier than before. This time I got video.

Hey...The World Didn't End Last Night!

2008-09-10T05:53:00.000-07:00

The Large Hadron Collider was switched on at 3:30am EST last night. It was developed to run experiments to help find evidence of mysterious particles that have been hypothesized by physicists. There were totally unfounded fears that the machine would create a mini black hole that would destroy the world. It didn't happen. Should have trusted the scientists. Not the lunatics.

Check out the video: http://www.newscientist.com/video.ns?bctid=1785292087

Airport Review - Detroit

2008-09-09T07:13:00.000-07:00

The Detroit Airport (DTW) has improved greatly over the last 10 years. About seven years ago I spent a day in DTW and was not really impressed. Granted, they were still building the new terminal, but it was awful; bad food choices, disgusting old seating, no heating and air, and it was very dirty.

The last time I was there, last year, things were much better. The food options were better, it was clean, the terminal was sleek and new, and they had created a crazy underground walkway with blue lights and soft music.

Yesterday, I stepped into the Detroit Airport to find a beautiful, modern, efficient airport; I was amazed and delighted. This is an airport that I could get stranded in!

The baggage claim system was well designed. The rental car bus driver was wonderful. It was an overall very good experience. There was only one thing I would change to make things better.

Remember that crazy underground walkway with lights and music? This is a wide walkway with moving sidewalks on both sides heading in opposite directions. It is a long walkway; it probably took 5-7 minutes to walk the whole thing. The walls are lined with glass panels. These panels are etched with abstract waves and flowers. There are lights behind the panels. In the past, these lights were blue and green and they shifted, oozing from blue to green as you walked by. Overhead, soothing music wafted along, matching the shifting blues and greens.

Yesterday, this walkway had changed. The lights behind the glass panels were red, blue, purple, yellow, white, and they flashed and blinked. Techno-type music blared overhead. As the lights changed from light blue to red to purple, the walkway tunnel would dim to late evening darkness and the music would quiet. The lights would then flash repeatedly, yellow and red and the music would kick back up. This happened about three times as I moved through the tunnel and if I had been epileptic, I would have been seizing on the floor one minute into the walk. Being a healthy young woman, I wasn’t as worried about the seizures as I was about the spike in my blood pressure that I experienced during the walk. I was stressed. And it wasn’t just me. My coworker, with whom I was traveling, also felt the same stress. It was really crazy. Like a bad trip or something. I think there was a guy on the moving walkway next to us experiencing a flashback; he was gazing, glassy-eyed as the lights moved by him.

I guess it makes for an exciting transition from terminal to baggage claim, but it was frankly frightening. After being stuck in a flying tin can without brakes (that’s another story for another day), a flashing, heart attack/seizure inducing hallway is the last thing a person needs to go through.

Nice Bike

2008-09-05T12:29:00.000-07:00

Bronwen has turned into a parrot. Everything I say, she repeats, with identical inflection and emotion, but missing some of the harder consonants. It can be totally enduring, entirely annoying, and utterly embarrassing. Like when I spilled water all over Piper’s bed and shouted “Sh*t!” and Bronwen promptly chanting, “Sh*t, sh*t, sh*t, mommy!” I had heard that these things happened, but it is hilarious when your cutie little baby starts cursing!

So, instead of letting her learn how to speak from listening to me, I have decided to give her a little direction and teach her some life lessons along the way. In August we drove up to New York state for a wedding and on the way we stopped at a Sheetz gas station to refuel and get some food. We decided to sit outside of the building and eat our lunch before getting back on the road. As we ate, a gang of rough looking Harley bikers pulled up in front of us. The noise was unbearable. Bronwen started to get scared and grabbed me around my neck. I sat her down on my lap to watch as the bikers parked and turned off their bikes.

“See, Bronwen, when you meet a biker, you always want to make sure that you become friends. It's not hard to do. Just tell him is “Nice Bike!” I told her.

“Nice bike!” she said to the biker that walked by us.

“Thanks, man!” he told her.

“Nice bike,” she chatted to the next biker as he strutted into Sheetz.

“Hey, thanks,” he smiled.

“See,” I told her, “they love you know. You always want bikers to be on your side!”

“Nice bike,” she replied.

For the rest of the drive to NY, every time we saw a biker on the highway she would say out of the window, “nice bike!” And to this day, if she hears a loud noise, like a bike, or sees a biker drive by, she will shout out, “nice bike!”

September 19th is International Talk Like a Pirate day, so I am working with her right now to say, “Argh, scurvy dogs!” She is having some trouble with the “sc” sound, but we’ll get it. Maybe I ought to try something a little easier, like “Avast, me hearties!” or just “Ahoy!”

Shittake Kickers Reunite

2008-09-05T08:00:00.000-07:00

Kickball season has begun again! The Shittake Kickers are back on the scene with some power kickers and sexy out-fielders this season. All games will be played at the Greensboro Lindley Park baseball fields at 6:30-8:30 every Tuesday-Thursday. Our rival teams, Ball Busters, SynerG#1 and #2, Bouvier Kelly, Can I Kick It?, Crush, Red Rockets, Just for Kicks, Hi-Gravs, and We Got Balls will cower in fear when they see us in our awesome mushroomy shirts. Be there ready to cheer us on!

The End of an Era

2008-09-04T10:00:00.000-07:00

Every time I go to the dentist I beat my own personal best and walk out of the door having lived yet another year without developing a cavity. Today, with a little over 2 months to my 32nd birthday, the era of Ellie’s perfect teeth came crashing to a halt. Three cavities (tiny little surface cavities) were discovered this morning, lurking among the cracks in my molars.

I have to be very careful about these molars as I only have four. The average person has, including wisdom teeth, 12 teeth in the back. I was born without my wisdom teeth (yes, I am more evolutionarily advanced than the rest of you), and I was also born without the 12 year molars on the bottom. This caused the 12 year molars on the top to grow out, so they were pulled. Now I only have 4 molars, and I need these, as I love to eat, so I guess I am going to have to get my cavities filled.

I have an appointment for October 13th, the day of our first wedding anniversary. I will run right home afterwards and smooch my hubby with a numb and drooly mouth. And then crack open that delicious, one year old wedding cake. Nothing like pumpkin chocolate chip cake to keep the teeth, and Ellies, happy.

Open Mouth, Insert Foot

2008-08-28T11:53:00.000-07:00

All names have been changed to protect the not so innocent.

So, I was talking with my friend Fred the other day about my job. We hadn’t seen each other in about a year, so we were catching up. In the middle of one of my “corporate culture rants” he stopped me to ask,

“Hey, I know someone who works at your office. Do you work with a guy named Hans?”

“Oh yeah, I know him! He always looks at my boobs when we are in the elevator together. I think he must really like boobs as he can’t seem to lift his eyes above my collar! The very first time I met him, I think he thought I was someone else and the whole time he was talking to me, calling me the wrong name, he was looking me up and down. I mean, he seems really nice and all, he just seems to like to check out the ladies, you know what I mean?”

“Uh, yeah…him and his wife are good friends of ours. They go to our church.” He didn’t look amused.

“Oh.”

I don’t often get into situations like this, but when I stick my foot into my mouth, I choke on it.

A Wiggly Saturday!

2008-08-24T19:54:00.000-07:00

There weren’t a whole lot of options for family fun activities in Greensboro this weekend, excluding the two events at the Coliseum on Saturday afternoon. There was the Greensboro Gun and Knife show and The Wiggles. We chose to go see The Wiggles.

For those of you out there who have not procreated in the last 5 -7 years, The Wiggles are a “band” of four guys from Australia who dance and sing and play instruments. They have a couple of Friends who join them in the show, Captain Feathersword, who wields a, well you guessed it, a tickly pink and purple feather sword, there is Dorothy the Dinosaur, a buck toothed green with yellow spots dinosaur that loves red roses, Henry the Octopus, and Wags the Dog.

When Dan mentioned that The Wiggles were coming to Greensboro, I didn’t really think that we would actually buy tickets. I was surprised when he asked me which show we should attend. My first thought was, “what kind of parents takes their kids to this kind of thing. Do I want to be around those kinds of people?” My second thought was, “What the hell, it might actually be fun.” Dan purchased the tickets, $98 dollars?!, and we started getting the kids excited for the “big surprise!”

When we got the coliseum an hour before the show, it was pretty easy to figure out which way to go. Follow the stream of parents with 2-5 years olds. I did have to stop at a counter and ask for directions to the Will Call counter. It was then that I noticed the man walking towards me with three, could they be muskets? in his arms. It was also at that moment when I noticed the sign, “Do not keep live ammo or clips in guns.” Well that’s a relief. I hadn’t know there was a gun and knife show going on at the Coliseum until that moment and as we walked by the guarded open door, I was strangely drawn to the room. But that is a story for another time. Back to The Wiggles!

We found our seats and made ourselves sick on popcorn and fake nachos (I love that fake cheese wiz stuff!) until the show started. I had joked with Dan about them having an opening act, speculating what other kids band would open for this show. But as the lights began to dim, two clowns, dressed in the traditional French clown outfits, white hat with three black poms, white long tunic and white tights, came out to greet the crowd. They had those athletics whistles and they got us to clap and cheer to get ready for the main event. At the start of the clown show I turned to look at Bronwen to see if she was having fun. She looked stricken, and as I started to talk to her about the clowns she began to cry and grabbed me around the neck and would not look up at the stage until the ballerinas come on. She was fine after that. See, clowns are scary!

The show was great. They sang some of their hot hits. Maybe you’ve heard some; Hot Potato, Isty Bitsy Spider, and Twinkle Little Star. Fruit Salad is my personal favorite which they performed with giant pieces of blow up fruit that they tossed around the stage until the song was over.

Truthfully, I think we had more fun than the kids. There is something to be said about being allowed to act silly, clap, cheer, laugh and sing along with the excuse that it is for your kid, but knowing deep down that you are actually having a great time. I experienced a brief moment a self consciousness when the show first started as I clapped and cheered maybe a little too loudly. I looked around at all of the parents around us. They were having the same fun, experiencing the joy through and with their children. It was great.

Lost!

2008-08-19T12:36:00.000-07:00

I have lost the stone in my engagement ring just now. It was actually kind of funny how it happened. I was trying to clean it with a tissue and it popped right out and went into my bra. I fished it out and then it slipped from my fingers and fell under my desk. At that point I wasn’t really stressed out. I mean, it is pretty easy to get the stone back into the fitting and I would be able to clean it even better with the stone out.

I crouched down to peer under the desk and I didn’t see anything. I started to feel around for the stone. It is so little and the carpet is so disgusting. I found a half eaten peanut M&M and some old popcorn kernels. I also found a blueberry that I must have dropped this morning, and a small box of random office stuff.

So now I am feeling a little stressed. Actually, I kind of want to cry. I am going to grab my lamp and plug it in under the desk and give it another look. Hopefully, whether I find it or not, this icky panicked feeling in my gut will go away.

Prison Motel

2008-08-18T09:05:00.000-07:00

I think I am spoiled; spoiled in the sense that I like new, clean and modern hotels; spoiled in the sense that I expect a certain level of comfort, cleanliness and service when I stay in a hotel; so spoiled, in fact, that I have become a hotel snob. I can’t help it! I travel for work and when you travel for a larger corporation, you get to stay in nice hotels; hotels that might even have a concierge, a gym and a pool. Sometimes, I even get to stay in a place with a bar and restaurant, a home away from home, where someone else makes my bed everyday and replaces the towels and cleans up my mess.

Here is the problem with becoming a hotel snob. It means that Motels are officially on the “Will Not Stay Here” list. Motels (with a capital M) do not meet the standards to which I have become accustomed, which might be sad, except for the fact that Motels are usually pretty icky.

Two weekends ago, Dan, Bronwen and I made the 11 hour trek to Kerhonkson, NY for my friend Shannon’s nuptials. On her wedding website there was a list of local Motels, along with more expensive bed and breakfasts, spas, and resorts from which to choose. Wanting to keep the costs low, and knowing that it would only be for one night, I opted for the cheapest and easiest Motel, the Colonial Motel.

The there are only two things good about the Colonial Motel. One, it is cheap, and two, it is only half a mile from where the wedding was taking place. Let me describe the place. Clustered around a black top parking lot is four small poorly maintained buildings. There is a small house, labeled “Office” at the entrance to the parking lot where I checked in, got the key and was sent across the parking lot, up the rickety stairs to the second floor. There couldn’t have been more than 20 rooms in the whole place. Our room was #86.

I was skeptical before I ever even muscled open the door and peer through the gloom into the filthy room. Flies buzzed around the place like the buildings themselves were starting to rot in the hot sun.

I walked slowly in the room, and stood waiting for my eyes to adjust. In the dim light the room began to take shape. The filthy rug, stained black in places was not to be trusted, and I made a mental note to make sure that Bronwen kept her shoes on at all times. A peek into the bathroom revealed a clean but old toilet, sink and shower. The closets were huge, without doors, with burn holes in the floors, no hangers and coated on the inside with peeling paint/paper/paneling. The windows were not secure, the bedspreads were gross, the paint was peeled in some places scraped in others, the TV was hilariously small (we had HBO) and propped precariously on a stand in the corner, and some of the bare bulb lights didn’t work. Bronwen explored the drawer in the bedside table and found a huge stack of used scratch and win lottery tickets, an old package of wafer cookies and a joint stashed in the bible. Need I say more?

The next day, after attempting to shower under the trickle of cold water coming from the thoroughly limed-clogged shower head, we met up with the owners of the horse farm where the wedding was going to take place later in the afternoon. Cody asked us where we were staying and laughed when we replied the Colonial Motel.

“Oh, you’re staying at the prison the motel,” she informed us. “That’s where everyone stays when they come to visit their relatives in the prison down the road. They take the “prison bus” from Port Authority and end up there.”

Truthfully, the fact that it was called the prison motel almost made the whole experience a little better; at least we a got a good story out of it. And we got to watch cable TV.

Possum vs Mountain Lion

2008-08-06T12:30:00.001-07:00

Having a possum in my kitchen was pretty scary, but waking to a mountain lion in the bedroom takes fear to a whole other level. Check this out.

Happy Birthday Little B

2008-08-05T11:08:00.001-07:00

Bronwen’s Puppy Party this past Saturday was a complete success, especially if you judge a successful party based on total number of presents, total number of attendees and total number of cocktail wieners consumed. Here is a grand total

Presents: 31
Attendees (including puppies): 21
Cocktail wieners: 189

Bronwen had a wonderful time. Since it was a puppy party, she received lots of puppy presents; Pound Puppies, a Webkins poodle, hugging puppies, Clifford books and movies, puppy books, etc. It was amazing. She also had puppy balloons and I made her a dog bone cake. We ate cocktail wieners, mini corn dogs and drank sangria. It was great.

At the end of the evening, right before she was supposed to take her bath, I was holding her on my hip in the kitchen and we were chatting with friends. She was getting really fussy and I had the impression that she wasn’t feeling very good. I was just about to walk her into the bathroom when she opened her mouth and puked all over my shirt and the floor. I guess you know you’ve had a good time at a party when you leave it puking.

Today is Bronwen’s actual birthday. I personally think I should be getting some gifts as it was at 2:48pm this time two years ago that I pushed her out, and then almost died! She is pretty damn perfect though, healthy, smart and cheeky, she is the best present I have ever gotten.

Happy Birthday Bronwen. We love you!

Opossum Myths Debunked

2008-07-31T13:05:00.000-07:00

Having a possum saunter into your kitchen in the middle of the night is a strange and terrifying experience. Talking to people about possums is even stranger. Everyone seems to have a story, advice, and/or interesting facts about these weird little creatures. I have never actually thought much about possums, but after a whole day of talking, reading and stressing about one particular possum, I have a number of myths that I feel like I should dispel, just because.

Myth #1 Opossums do not carry rabies.
A number of people told me this while I was trying to figure out whether or not I should touch the possum with a festering head wound. (It is amazing I even considered it.) Advice would be shared with the caveat, “but don’t worry, they don’t carry rabies.” However, it turns out that they can carry rabies; however, the occurrence of rabid possums is very low*. Scientist theorize that the body temperature of an opossum is too low for the rabies virus take hold.

Myth #2 Opossums hang from their tails.
The North American opossum is the only mammal in the US with a prehensile tail. Only baby opossums can hang from their tails, because once the opossum gets larger it can no longer hold its own weight and therefore, can no longer hang from its tail*.

Myth #3 Opossums are vicious creatures.
Perhaps the opossum developed this reputation because of its appearance. Opossums look like a larger silver rat with a long scaly tail, small beady black eyes and a pointy mouth full of sharp little teeth. It turns out that opossums are generally very mild mannered and do not attack. One website recommended that if an opossum is found in the house it can be “coaxed outside with a broom.”*

Myth #4 Opossums will play dead*.
This is true. I have actually seen it first hand. One night at Café Europa, Ian and I were walking back to the parking garage when we came upon a baby possum walking through the grass. I don't think I had ever even seen an opossum and therefore was utterly suprised when Ian start yelling and jumping up and down in front of the little thing. The poor baby possum just keeled over. It was then that Ian filled me in on the “playing possum” phenomenon.

Myth #5 Opossums will squirt ink when playing dead.
I saved this for last because it is the weirdest. I was leaving daycare with Bronwen and mentioned to a fellow mother that I had an opossum in the house and was going home to deal with it. As had become a predictable event, the mother started to describe her experiences with her own possum that lives on the tree over her deck and harasses her dog. Her advice to me was to scare it so that it would play dead, and then scoop it up with shovel and take it outside. She said that she had tried this with her own possum invader and it had worked perfectly. There was only one draw back, she said, and that is the “opossum ink” that squirts out. She then went on to describe the sticky black ink that oozed out of her own possum that made her think it was dead, but that turns out simply to be some sort of possum ink. I said that I hoped it didn’t “ink” in my kitchen, but thanks for the advice. I could find nothing on the web about “possum ink” however, at http://www.opossumsocietyus.org/ I found mention of opossum anal gland fluid. Here is what it said,

“Fear can cause release of a greenish-colored anal fluid. Opossums cannot “spray”, and the only way this unpleasant-smelling body fluid can come in contact with you is if your clothes brush the anal area. It washes off easily.”

So there you go. I think that explains that.

Marsupial Invasion

2008-07-29T20:37:00.000-07:00

Thirty minutes ago an Opossum with a large open sore on its head sauntered into our kitchen. It walked right passed me as I was sitting at the computer; it turned the corner, leaning into the fridge as it passed. I started to yell,

“Dan there is an Opossum in our kitchen. An Opossum in our kitchen!”

At the sound of my slightly hysterical cries, the Opossum turned to look at me. Our eyes met, and it stood there for a few second before calmly turning around and waddling back out the way it came in. I followed it out of the kitchen and caught a glimpse of its wormy tail as it disappeared down the stairs in to the basement. I slammed the basement door and went to find Dan. He was sleeping. I flicked on the light.

“Dan, there was just a possum in the kitchen. It was acting like it had been there before!”

“Well, I am sure the cats would have gotten it if it had been.”

“What should I do? The litter boxes are downstairs, but I can’t keep the door open! The possum will come back. Do you think it has been visiting often? It had a sore on its head.”

“What, a sore?”

“Yeah. Isn’t that weird?

“Yeah.”

“What if it is rabid?”

“It’s not rabid.”

“Okay, I need back up while I go downstairs to get the litter boxes. Can you stand with the broomstick ready to beat it off if it jumps up on me and starts gnawing my leg?”

“It is not rabid.”

“You didn’t see it. I think it’s been here before. It just looked at me like it wasn’t scared. It is definitely rabid. And the sore on its head, like an abscess; gross!

Dan followed me into the kitchen and stood dutifully with the broomstick, ready to defend me against the R.O.U.S. as I tiptoed down the stairs and grabbed a litter box.

“We are never going to be able to leave the door open again.” I announce as I dropped the stinky litter box down into our pantry.

Since then I have scoured the house looking for evidence of a marsupial infestation. I closed up Bronwen's bedroom, but only after looking under the beds, in the closet and in the laundry basket.

Sometimes we forget how close we live to the rest of the natural world, until the natural world comes walking through our kitchen sporting a cheeky grin and an oozing head wound.

My Newest Obsession

2008-07-25T12:43:00.000-07:00

Anyone who knows me well knows that I obsess. I get stuck on something, an idea, project, desire and I simply cannot stop thinking about it. Earlier this year a spent a few weeks being obsessed with the idea of having my own chickens. I research everything about owning chickens, coops, breeds, everything. I wanted chickens of my very own that were going to live in the back yard and be an endless supply of delicious fresh eggs. Dan said no.

Now I am obsessing about scooters. I have always wanted a scooter. Sunshine got that awesome scooter that I rode at her house, Vespas are the cutest ride ever; and today, instead of getting work done, I have been reading everything there is on the Internet about scooters. I have already picked out a few models that I would like to test ride and discovered what dealerships sell them. I have created an entire fantasy scooter world in my head that has me scooting all over town, looking so cute with my matching helmet and Bronwen chilling out in the sidecar. I simply must have one.

What Really Happened

2008-07-24T06:06:00.001-07:00

Last night I flashed a security camera in the stairwell of the parking garage. I don’t know what came over me. I was walking up the first flight of stairs to the second floor of the garage when I noticed a large security camera pointing straight down at me. In a manner quite unlike me, I acted immediately on my impulse without thinking about the consequences. I grabbed the hem of my t-shirt and yanked it up over my face and pushed out my chest out towards the camera. I lowered my shirt and giggled and ran up the rest of the steps. Breathless and happy I jumped into my car and drove home.

That is the story I wanted to write. Here is what really happened.

Last night after my pottery class when I was climbing the stairs to the second floor of the parking garage I noticed a security camera pointing directly at me. I had this overwhelming urge to flash the camera. I wanted to grab the hem of my t-shirt and yanked it up over my face and shimmy my boobs out at the camera. For almost 10 seconds I stood there contemplating the possible repercussions of taking this action. I decided that what would probably happen would be the following: I flash the camera, no one ever looks at the tape normally, except that on this night, some person reports getting harassed in that very same stairwell so the tape is pulled and rewound and the whole police force gathers around the TV screen to look for the perp when suddenly a 30 something clay covered blond girl comes into view and flashes the camera, giggles and runs away. Then they would come to my house to arrest me for very indecent exposure (no one should have to see that!), and the flashing would go on my permanent record and I would never be able to get a good job again and I would end up living on the streets, digging through trashcans for food and sleeping in that very same stairwell. It would be a tragic story with a tragic end. You can see why I decided to curb my instinct. I climbed the remaining stairs to my car. Nervous and depressed I jumped into my car and drove home.

With My Freeze-Ray I Will Stop the World

2008-07-18T22:05:00.000-07:00

I love Joss and he has done it again. Check out the greatest, free, high production blog video ever!

http://drhorrible.com/

Thanks Phil for getting me hooked.

Tums to the Rescue

2008-07-17T13:08:00.001-07:00

You know you’ve had a rough night when you wake up in the morning with a hangover, there is a half eaten loaf of bread in the kitchen and there is a trail of Tums bisecting the house. This was exactly the state that the house and I were in two weekends ago. At first I could not remember what exactly happened, but as I stood in the hallway a shadowy memory of the night before began to take shape.

I had had a little too much to drink and like clockwork, I awoke at 3:30am struggling to swallow the acid in my throat. I went directly to the medicine cabinet and took out the family size bottle of Tums I have kept on hand for the last year. I chewed one, then another and went back to bed. 30 minutes later I was up again, this time choking down the acid and the foaming Tums from before. Something was going to have to be done. I needed water, a little bread and more Tums. I stumbled sleepily from the bathroom to the kitchen. Tipping back my head, and stretching my mouth open wide, I shook the bottle of Tums urgently towards my acid scorched throat. Like delicious sweet tarts of relief, the Tums seemed to leap from the bottle, dropping into my mouth and bouncing off my face, skittering across the floor. Chewing was difficult as the chalky medicine got stuck in my teeth and turned my tongue thick and white but I persevered. With a glass of water in hand and a masticated piece of bread left behind on the kitchen counter I lurched back into bed to sleep it off.

God bless the Tums.

The Potty Training Begins

2008-07-15T11:55:00.001-07:00

Nothing in your life leading up to the moment it starts will prepare you for potty training. No one ever tells you how it is going to work, or what is going to happen, or the amount of time you will spend talking about poop and pee.

I have not been stressed out about potty training at all. I am ready for Bronwen to remain in diapers indefinitely. After all potty training is really going to slow us down during those long car trips. I would prefer that she stay a little toddler and just gets used to the diaper. It eliminates the stress of embarrassment due to “accidents”, potty talk in public, and just the weirdness of teaching a human to poop on cue.

Bronwen starting sitting on the practice potty a few months ago. She would see me sitting on the toilet and like everything else she does these days, she wanted to do what mommy was doing. I would take off her diaper and sit her there while I went. She would smile and tap her feet on the floor waiting for something to happen. Of course nothing ever happens as she doesn’t understand yet what she supposed to do, but it is pretty cute to see her sitting there. I know that is kind of weird, but anything your kid does that is vaguely grown up is always cute. I don’t know why.

Things have been progressing in this fashion for a few months now. She sits on the potty and taps her feet. She has taken to demanding toilet paper which she holds in her hand then throws away in the “big” toilet when I flush. She always has to wash her hands afterwards. We’ve had a few accidents because I tend to let her run around the house naked. She has suddenly realized that her diaper is uncomfortable and will therefore refuse to have it put back on, and I really don’t care if she doesn’t wear it inside. She will run around until either I get too nervous about the possible mess, or the mess happens. This past Sunday she was standing naked behind me as I was folding dry laundry when she started to cry. This cry was one of those “I am hurt and freaked out” cries so I dropped what I was doing and turned to help her. There she was, naked and crying, her foot in the air, she hates when her feet get dirty, and there was a huge pile of poop with a toddler sized foot print right in the middle of it. We cleaned up the poop, washed her feet and put on a new diaper, but for the rest of the day she would not sit on the potty.

So, as potty training goes, we haven’t really done anything proactive about moving her out of diapers. We are just letting nature take its course. She’s not even two years old, after all. But yesterday things changed. I spoke with her daycare about potty training and they informed me that she is peeing on the potty at school and therefore we should be actively training her at home. I thought our laid back approach was going to work perfectly, but this new daycare pressure is stressing me out. Now I have to learn something about this process. Now I have to, because I am a freak about having information, read about the physiology about toddler bladders and the impact of forced potty training will have on her future self esteem and all about the different methodologies of training a little human to go in a potty. How do you teach something that you can’t remember ever having learned?

My Salad

2008-07-14T12:35:00.001-07:00

Last night I decided to make a salad. I was a little depressed about the state of the lettuce I found in the fridge, I think it had been there for almost two weeks, but I figured that I would fill out the bowl with other salad items to make the whole thing a lot more appetizing. I found some snow peas, some feta cheese. I discovered a few shriveled green onions that actually turned out to be very tasty after peeling away the outside layers. The carrots had to be thrown away as a rank smell was emanating from the bag. I had a little chicken salad and some celery that I threw on top. The bowl of salad was starting to look pretty good as I started rummaging around for some salad dressing but something was missing. “It could really use some tomatoes” I thought, suddenly realizing that I have tomatoes growing out in the front yard.

The rain was just letting up as I stepped barefoot out into the gathering dusk. The warm wet concrete felt wonderful and the smell of soft wet dirt and tomato plants wafted on the humidity. I crouched carefully next to the cherry tomato plant and plucked the warm fruit reverently from the plant. Walking back to the house with my tomatoes I stopped to grab some herbs, Thai basil and parsley, to add the salad. Back in the kitchen I cut the tomatoes in half and tossed the pieces into the salad along with the herbs. I am immensely proud of my garden additions and I look forward to expanding the garden and its contents more in the coming years.

"We believe in nothing, Lebowski."

2008-06-30T10:52:00.001-07:00

This weekend we celebrated Phil’s birthday by throwing a Big Lebowski Birthday Bash. We created a bowling lane in the backyard, set up a “movie screen” (it was a sheet stapled to the entrance of the garage), and watched the movie sitting on the rug in the back yard. We even created our very own Big Lebowski drinking game. Here are the rules.

Everyone must drink when the following things happen:
1. When the dude drinks
2. Anytime there are bare breasts
3. When a strike is bowled
4. When you spot a VW bug
Then, Dan went through the script and picked out key phrases or words that happen often in the movie, e.g. “Jackie Treehorn”, “Amateur”, and “Shut up, Donny”. He printed out the phrases on slips of paper and we each drew from a mug. Each person was required to drink when their word or phrase was uttered. It was very funny.

Costumes were also encouraged. Someone came as "the rug" and we had a few nihilists. Dan, Piper and I spent the afternoon designing our costumes. Can you guess who we were from the movie? See more pictures here.
I think that we will have to have a yearly Lebowski Fest from now on. The white Russians were flowing, and a great time was had by all. Happy Birthday Phil!

Customer Service

2008-06-25T13:29:00.001-07:00

When I am at work, I sit next to the woman who takes all customer complaints for the whole company. She took a call from a customer at least fifteen minutes ago and I haven’t heard her say one word yet. I liked to imagine the other side of the call, the side I can’t hear. I like to try to imagine the most outrageous things that an irate customer could say. I bet the things in my imagination are not even half as good as the real thing.

She is still sitting there silent. Is the customer screaming at her, or perhaps just reading her a 14 page long list of complaints. Maybe she is happy and can’t stop talking about the merits and great qualities of this company. Oh no, I just heard, “well if it important to you, then it is important to us. We want to hear your concerns.” Yikes, that can’t be good; and after all of this silence. It is making me nervous.

Working in customer service takes a certain type of patience. I remember the first time I got an irate customer call. I was working for a large bookstore and I picked up the phone to stop its incessant ringing when I was greeted by an angry voice. I can’t really remember what the customer was yelling at me about, but by the end of it I was flustered and close to tears. “Why does he hate me so much?” I thought. That was my first lesson in customer service. What seems like such a personal interaction because emotions are involved is actually not personal at all; you just happen to be the person on the other end of the problem and got lucky enough to answer the phone.

I felt pretty confident after I figured that out, although there were still scary times. Like almost getting assaulted by the drunk in the music department singing obscene lyrics in front of the kids section, or the time that the bipolar customer starting pulling out his hair and then smashed the front door on his way out. Most of the time customers just want to be heard, they just want to vent.

That must be what is happening on the phone in the cube next to me. It sounds like she is just trying to vent. Now my cube neighbor is waving her arms in the arm, and shooting the phone the middle finger. And yet her voice remains so level and patient as she consoles and reassures that we will do all that we can to please her. Amazing. It takes a certain kind of person.

Virginia is for Funerals

2008-06-20T10:08:00.000-07:00

The last time I was in Virginia I ended up getting stuck in two, count them, two massive funerals. Yesterday I was driving home from Richmond and I got stuck in the middle of yet another funeral. At first I thought there was an accident up ahead as I saw flashing lights, but as I eased down the hill, the flashing red and blues moved slowly forward. I didn’t think much about it, although I was cursing my luck for getting stuck in a traffic jam. The traffic began to thin out and as I crested another hill I saw the cop again, this time on the other side of the road, blocking traffic so that a massive line of cars could cut across traffic and off of the highway. I whisked by in the left hand lane and it was only as I raced irreverently past them mourners and glanced into a car that I actually realized what was happening. Another funeral; and in Virginia of all places. I am staying out of that state from now on.

My Mental Breakdown

2008-06-18T12:26:00.001-07:00

Everyone needs to have a little mental break down once in awhile. Not “shotgun from the bell tower” mental break down, but “stand and bawl at the kitchen sink” kind of break down. That’s what I did yesterday and it is amazing how cleansing that can be. I was feeling so stressed out, but after the crying, the comforting and the sleep, things feel more manageable. Poor Bronwen sat on the kitchen counter eating oranges and squishing water out of the kitchen sponges all over her pants during the whole event. She is so good at entertaining herself when I most need it. I wonder it she will remember crazy mommy breaking down. Well, if she doesn’t remember this one, I am sure there will be more in future to assure that she really thinks that her mother is crazy. Or at least really dorky and weird.

Bee-Hummingbird-Moth

2008-06-17T05:17:00.000-07:00

"Catbug is a cat but he's got bugness in his veins/ Manhouse lives within himself with thoughtful human brains/ Neither one is equal to the challenge of the freak we'll call the/ Bee of the Bird of the Moth."
-They Might Be Giants

As promised here is the list of animals who's name contains the name of another animal.
Ant Bear
Anteater
Antlion
Barnacle Goose
Bee Hummingbird
Bull Terrier
Bulldog
Bullfinch
Bullfrog
Camel Fly
Camel Spider
Caterpillar
Cat-Eyed Snake
Catfish
Cattle Dog
Cattle Egret
Crab Spider
Crabeater Seal
Cranefly
Crayfish
Crayfish Snake
Crocodile Bird
Cuttlefish
Deerhound
Deer Tick
Dogfish
Duck-Billed Platypus
Elephant Seal
Elephant Shrew
Elkhound
Fish Eagle
Flycatcher
Flying Fox
Fox Snake
Foxhound
Geoduck
Giant Bird-Eating Spider
Gopher Snake
Groundhog
Guinea Pig
Hawk Moth
Hedgehog
Horse Crab
Horse Fly
Horseshoe Bat
Hummingbird Moth
Jellyfish
Kangaroo Dog
Kangaroo Mouse
Killer Whale
Koala Bear
Ladybird
Leopard Seal
Lionfish
Mole Viper
Mongoose
Mosquito Hawk
Mouse bird
Mouse-Like Hamster
Mule Deer
Naked Mole Rat
Oystercatcher
Panda Bear
Parrot Fish
Pitbull
Polecat
Prairie Dog
Rat Snake
Rat Terrier
Rhinoceros Beetle
Sea Cow
Sea Horse
Sea Monkey
Sea Wolf
Sealion
Sheepdog
Sloth Bear
Slow Worm
Sparrowhawk
Spider Crab
Spider Monkey
Squirrel fish
Stag Beetle
Staghound
Starfish
Tarantula Mimic Moth
Tarantula Hawk Wasp
Teddybear Hamster
Tiger Fish
Tiger Rattlesnake
Tiger Shark
Tiger Shrimp
Tiger Snake
Titmouse
Tortoise Shell Butterfly
Tortoiseshell Cat
Turkey Vulture
Turtle Dove
Whale Shark
Wolfhound
Wolf Snake
Wolf Spider
Wombat
Worm Snake
Zebra Finch
Zebra Fish

Getting Ready for Our Date

2008-06-16T06:44:00.000-07:00

I have always been a fan of extreme weather. I even considered working towards a degree in meteorology. But there is nothing like coming up against extreme weather face to face to give you a healthy respect for the power that is Mother Nature.

Saturday night Dan and I were getting ready to leave the house. We had a date. I had purchase they Might Be Giants tickets (it was supposed to be a surprise) and we had a babysitter due to arrive at any minute.

I was standing by the back window watching the edge of storm heading towards us. I decided that it looked pretty nasty and was typing in “weather.com” when the wind began to pick up. Instead of dying down after what seemed like a huge gust, the wind continued to build. I glanced out side, my pulse beginning to race, and saw the trees being blown sideways.

“Dan, get the baby!” I yelled over the noise of the wind, and watched as Dan grabbed Bronwen off the couch and raced by me into the basement.

We stood in the middle of the basement watching the wind blow outside. After only about a minute, the wind died down and we cautiously climbed the steps to see what was happening.

I looked out the window and the first thing I saw was a whole section of fence lying in our yard. The second thing I noticed was that our shade tent was gone!

“Dan, our fence is destroyed!” I yelled. “And the tent is gone!”

We went outside to assess the damage. Half of the fence had been blown over. One piece was in our yard, the other in our neighbors'. The large tent had been blown to the other side of the yard and was broken in three places. A large oak branch had fallen from the tree and smashed into our other neighbors’ fence, missing Dan’s car by a few feet.

I am pretty sure that the time it took for the wind to pick up and then die down couldn’t have been more than ninety seconds, but the damage it did was impressive.

Hamsters

2008-06-10T11:03:00.000-07:00

Today I was thinking about hamsters. There is a perfectly reasonable explanation for this as I was working on a word puzzle sent to us from our friends in Los Gatos. Here it is: come up with the name of an animal where part of the name is actually that of another animal. The example given by Jared was: CAT FISH. I think we are going to have a fair list, which I promise I will compile and list on this blog, but back to the hamsters.

When I was in fourth grade my neighbors down the street had a hamster that had babies. After sufficient begging my parents let me have one which I kept in my attic bedroom. It was a TEDDYBEAR HAMSTER. I named it, wait for it, “Teddy”. This hamster was a real bastard hamster. Everyday I would reach into its cage to pet it and it would bite me, hard enough to draw blood, everyday. My parents told me to keep handling it so that it would get used to me and eventually stop biting. Everyday, I would get home from school, reach in to pet it, get bit, and cry. This went on for what seemed like months.

One day in the summer, I came home from the pool and dutifully reached into the cage to pet “Teddy”. I had gotten pretty jittery about the whole thing, after being bitten so many times. I eased my hand slowly toward the sleeping thing to try once again. As my finger tips reached his little furry back I was prepared to jerk my hand back, but was pleasantly surprised when he didn’t move at all. I quickly reached around his body to lift him up and suddenly realized, to my horror, that he was cold and hard. I dropped his dead body and it fell to the floor, bouncing a little, with the sound of wood on wood. I cried.

I went downstairs to my parents, tears streaming down my face. I was sad that the thing was dead, I wanted a new pet. How about some SEA MONKEYS or a RAT SNAKE or even a GUINEA PIG?

My New Desk

2008-05-23T10:56:00.001-07:00

Last Monday I moved into my seventh cube since I started my job two and a half years ago. This means that I have only spent, on average, 4.57 months per desk. I was contemplating just keeping all of my stuff in boxes, in order to make it easier to move each time but that would be depressing. Anyway, I like to feel moved into my desks. I always have my drawer full of food, and my Bronwen pictures placed so that I can look at her smiling face all day. I have “my stapler” and “my tape dispenser” and I take those with me from desk to desk. I recently bought a lamp at target and it makes whatever desk I am sitting at much homier.

Part of my job right now is writing the six non-perishable department manuals and so I had to move a whole shopping cart (of course we have shopping carts in our office) of drafts of manuals that are in various stages of editing. So, instead of being able to use this move to pare down and reorganize, I have simply dumped my cart load onto half of the desk and have gotten down to work. I am pretty sure that my neighbor eyes my messy desk with suspicion. Am I going to be the neighbor whose desk always sports a moldy old cup of coffee with floating green, a shriveling and unidentifiable citrus fruit and a crumb strewn floor mat with matching crumby chair crunching all over the place? Yes, I am that neighbor. At least I am not falling asleep at my desk anymore; snoring all over the place and keeping everyone on constant alert to wake me up before the boss-man come around the corner. Well, at least not most of the time.

We are going on holiday

2008-05-22T12:58:00.000-07:00

Today I was shocked to realize that Dan and I have not gone on holiday (yes, appreciate the Britishism) since our honeymoon last October. Maybe this is not that shocking as the average American gets only 13 days of vacation and very often only takes 10 of those days a year. But we are not average Americans, Dan certainly is not, and we like taking vacations, getting out of town, spending some money (make that credit) and relaxing a whole lot.

This weekend we are heading off to Los Gatos, California to see our good friends Kym and Jared and to hang out in their giant mansion. I cannot wait. We are going to sit at the beach, relax in the hot tub; yes they have a hot tub, and hike with the dogs. We are going to eat and drink and play stump and did I mention eat?

The next vacation could be as early as July, or as late as November so I am going to make this one count. Maybe we should move to Italy.

Shiitake Goes Down

2008-05-20T08:31:00.001-07:00

We lost. I think the final score was 13-2. We scored our two runs in the 4th inning and never came back. I, however, was excited to make my first pop fly catch of the season. The kicker from the other team got up to kick, kicked the ball straight to me and I caught it! Hooray. Mr Cavin was there and will verify my story. I am not making this up!

There were other good catches and good kicks made by the Shiitake Kickers last night, but to no avail. We all had some beer and food after the game and scheduled a reunion cookout for June. I think we will play again next season (I think in the fall). I am looking forward to it. We had such a good time, my teammates are great people and it was a great way to meet new people who I work with but never really talk to that much.

The Playoffs are On!

2008-05-14T04:14:00.000-07:00

Our first round of playoff games are over and the Shiitake Kickers are still in the running. Last night, we lost our first game to the Crush. (They were mean and seemed to take the game way to seriously.) But in the second game, we trounced the other team, 18-7. It must have had something to do with the eye-black, or maybe it was the beer.

Stump: A History

2008-05-12T08:41:00.000-07:00

It was early spring, 2002 (I think) and I had planned a trip out to San Francisco to visit my good friend Kym. She had recently moved out to California to move in with her boyfriend Jared and this trip would be the first time that I was to meet Jared. They were living in a gorgeous little apartment on Potrero Hill that had a lovely back yard, and a huge kitchen, with plenty of room for us to hang out. It was during that trip (I have pictures!) that I was first introduced to the game up Stump. Jared handed me a hammer and Budweiser and told to flip the hammer and hit someone’s nail into their beautiful birch stump.It was then that the life long obsession was created. Unlike many of my friends, who had to hear me talk about the game before ever viewing it, I knew nothing of the game and therefore did not experience that characteristic response of “That sounds kind of dangerous!” I jumped right in and began flipping that hammer with all the enthusiasm of youth! We played a few rounds of stump that day, and few the next day, and I flew home to life as usual.

Stump remained a purely San Francisco experience until I returned home from a trip where we had played a particularly lot of Stump and I thought to myself, “I can do this at home too!” It didn’t hurt that I was dating a gaming fiend and drinking partner who, when I described the game to him replied, “So, when do we get our stump?”

It was January, 2004; the snow was falling gently through the bare trees at Lake Jeannette while Dan and I crunched through the frozen leaves to look for our very first stump. We found a wet, barky stump and carried it back to the car. We dropped in into the trunk and watched the entire cylinder of bark fall off the stump at once. This stump was our very first stump; it still lives in our backyard but is no longer usable as over 25 pounds of nails have been pounded into both ends. The sides are covered in bottle caps and other things we felt like hammering onto it. It is a beautiful stump.

As it began to fill up with nails we realized that we would have to find another stump and our good friends Ethan and Tom hooked us up. One night we came home to Dan’s place where we found a short wide stump sitting on the front porch. This stump became our new playing stump when we retired the previous and we played on that stump until it was partly destroyed during our first, and last, game of “fire stump”.

The rules of fire stump are essentially the same as regular stump, except that after the nails are tapped in, the stump is set on fire. I recommend using lighter fluid and saw dust. It produces a fire that is not too hot and that goes out pretty easily over time. The night we created fire stump was a crazy night, and unfortunately, we didn’t realize that the side of the stump continued to smolder long after the game was actually over. We retired that stump when our neighbors Janie and Josh gave us a new one from their stump pile in their side yard. We taught them Stump and after their gift, we had matching stumps in each of our yards. Hilarious! Unfortunately, we took this stump to someone’s house for a party and never got it back.

Which brings to our newest stump; anyone who knows me knows that this calls for great celebration. Which of course, got underway this past Friday night, when we dropped the thing into our backyard and began whacking it with a hammer. Since we had lost our last stump we had been playing on the half burned stump from Ethan and Tom, which still worked pretty well. We would have continued to play on the blackened stump if we hadn’t have discovered this new stump during a walk through our neighborhood.

Dan, Bronwen, Mr. Cavin and I were walking to Fishbones when we came upon a pile of stumps along the side of the road. They were beautiful, evenly cut, wide enough and high enough to play on. We examined them all and after dinner and a walk home, we drove back to pick up two stumps, one for the yard, and a table top stump, which we jokingly threw on the picnic table for games of “sitting down” Stump, which I am sure is entirely too dangerous to actually play.

Matt, Cavin, Chris, Dan and I got our respective drinks (beer, sake, Boone’s Farm, beer and sake), christened the new stump and played a few games. I won the first game, Dan the second, Cavin the third, and Chris the last. It was really fun.

This new stump is half cut through the middle so it has a satisfying hollow sound when you hit it, but it is much taller than any stump we have had which makes playing on it a little different. But I think it is perfect, and just in time for the summer! I am looking forward to more Stump and barbecue all summer long.

I'm ALIIIIIVVVVVVE! (use mummy voice)

2008-05-08T10:48:00.000-07:00

Today, my life has totally changed. For the first time in over two years, I have not fallen asleep at my desk. Not only that, but my mind is clear, my brain is functioning, and my creativity is running wild.

I hate the CPAP machine, but it has made me feel like a normal human being again. Last night was the first time I have been able to strap that thing onto my face and fall asleep. With the help of a healthy measure of sake, I was able to fall asleep with it on, and keep it on the whole night.

Unsurprisingly, I felt tired this morning (I stayed up drinking sake with Cavin until midnight) but there was a difference. Normally, I would come into work and immediately pass out at my desk. But this morning, despite the fatigue, I sat at my desk, read and answered emails, did some writing and made phone calls without any of that crippling, uncontrollable falling asleep that has plagued me for what seems like, forever.

Did I mention that I hate the CPAP machine? And I resent myself for having gotten too fat to breath properly at night, but I have learned to be civil with that machine, and after today, I can’t help but want to use it again, so that I can continue to feel this way; awake, alert, aware, interested, and alive.

Pottery, hurray!

2008-05-07T10:38:00.001-07:00

Tonight I am starting (along with my friend Chris) an 8 week pottery class at the Cultural Arts Center in downtown Greensboro. I have taken this class before and it was wonderful. Truthfully, I just spent all my time during the open studio, throwing as much as I could.

This time, I have plans for something great. I want to throw a sink basin that I can install in our upstairs bathroom. And of course, I want to make functional sculpture and beautiful bowls and teapots and plates and all that. Hopefully, I can get all of Christmas presents made in time for summer break.

I will post some pictures of completed projects as soon as things start getting fired and glazed.

My Embarrassing Un-Secret

2008-04-29T13:51:00.001-07:00

It’s not the fact that I fall asleep at my desk that I hate so much as the fact that I get caught. I get caught everyday and it could not be more embarrassing. Sometimes I get caught because I start snoring and it is sort of an unspoken pact between me and the lady in the cube next to me that if I start to snore she should wake me up. Otherwise she lets me sleep. It is so embarrassing.

Sometimes, when I have fallen asleep without my realizing it, someone will sneak up on me and tap me on the shoulder saying things like, “Are you okay?” I mean, I must be ill, who else sleeps at their desk with seeming disregard for all that is right and appropriate. It is so embarrassing.

Sometimes I will fall asleep and the phone ringing will wakes me up. I am constantly surprised at how alert I sound as I answer it, “Hello, this is Ellie. No, I haven’t been asleep for the last ten minutes. No, that wasn’t me you heard across the office, snorting away.” It is so embarrassing.

Often, I feel myself starting to fall asleep and I try something desperate to keep myself awake, like punching myself in the leg or pinching my arm, or eating tons of chocolate. It works for a few minutes until I get tired of hurting myself, or finish all of the chocolate. And I drift off to sleep with sore arms and legs and a sick stomach. It is so embarrassing.

I am amazed sometimes how long I sleep with no one waking me up. This morning, for example, I glanced at the clock sometime around 11:15am and woke up with a start to see that the computer clock read 11:55am. How could I have slept for 40 minutes with no interruption? What if someone saw me but didn’t wake me up? What if the whole office came over to stare at me and laugh under their breath as I slept soundly on through the morning? It is so embarrassing.

I know there is only one way to solve this problem and that is to cure my apnea. It needs to either go away (I have to lose 30 pounds) or I have to treat it (CPAP machine). I am having trouble with both solutions and most people don’t seem to understand this. “Just try harder” people tell me. Try harder. Try harder. Try harder. But it is not that easy. Or maybe it is, but I haven’t figure out how to yet. It is so embarrassing.

I just want to live a normal life again. It has been more than two years since I have not fallen asleep at my desk at least once a day and I am tired of it. It is embarrassing, unproductive and stupid. If something doesn’t change I might have to get a new job where I would have to stand up all day. At least then as I fell asleep, I would start to fall and then I would wake up. It’s better than drooling on myself here in this cube. How embarrassing.

My Favorite New Room

2008-04-29T12:46:00.001-07:00

Last night I spent hours putting together my new favorite room, the pantry. Dan and I had discussed many different options for the stupid backroom of the house. Somehow I got it in my head that it would be a great pantry. We could put up shelves and get a chest freezer and we would be able to be more efficient with food that way. Anyway, my dream finally came true last night when I transferred all of the stuff from the cramped little pantry in the kitchen to what used to be the stupid back room, but is now my favorite room in the house.

I am cut off!

2008-04-25T07:46:00.001-07:00

Today is the self imposed cut-off day for my feeling sorry for myself. I actually think 5 days is a bit too long to be that self obsessed, but oh well. Anyway, today is the cut-off day and therefore I feel great! We won our first kickball game last night. Go Shiitake Kickers! And, it is Friday and I will get to spend the whole weekend with my cutest baby ever, Bronwen.

Driving to DC

2008-04-23T13:32:00.000-07:00

My drive to Washington DC last Sunday was absolutely bizarre. I left the house at exactly 11am, and drove north on hwy 29. The plan was to take 29 North all the way through Virginia to 66 East which would take me directly into the city. I merged onto 29N around 11:10am and that is the last time things went according to plan.

When I left the house, the sun was shining and the new baby leaves on the trees were fluttering in a gentle spring breeze. I was surprised at how beautiful 29 N was and I was feeling pretty good as I approached Lynchburg, VA. It was sometime after I had made it through Lynchburg that I realized I had accidentally gotten off track. I realized that 460 E, the sign that had been flashing by the car for the last 40 miles, was not the same as 29 N, and that in fact, after studying the map, I was moving rapidly towards Richmond. Feeling a little stressed, and swerving all over the road as I tried to read the map and drive, I decided to pull over and take stock. I also needed gas.

I pulled into a gas station (it could be called that, as it had gas). I filled the tank and walked into the shabby building to pay. (What, no pay at the pump?!) As I approached the counter a very gregarious Indian man, with a strong Indian accent, asked me if I was from around there. I wanted to ask him the same thing but I didn’t and replied that actually I was lost. I asked him the way to 15 N which I had noticed on the map, eventually meets back up with 29N, right before 66. He pointed me in the right direction; I thanked him, got in my car and headed east.

What I didn’t realize was that 15 N is a two lane highway where the speed limit often drops to 35 mph as you slip though sleepy little Virginia towns. One town was built around the railroad. There were stacks of fresh cut logs along the road, and train beds filled with lumber. It was a like going back in time.

Somewhere in the middle of Virginia, the sky opened and it began to pour. I was glad I could only go 35 mph, as the roads began to fill with water. It was after the storms started that things got weird.

I entered a town called Gordonville. Halfway down Main Street the traffic stopped and I could see ahead a police officer, stopping traffic to allow a long line of cars along with a hearse onto the road from a funeral house.

“What a perfect day for a funeral,” was my first thought.
“Could there be more cars going to this funeral?” was my second thought at the 100th car pulled out in front of me. Finally, the cop pulled out behind the last mourner and I shifted into gear to follow. The rain began to fall even heavier, and the highway opened up to four lanes. I wondered if it was bad manners to pull out into the left lane so I could pass the 100 cars as I did exactly that. I was still far from meeting up with 29 N at this point, and was really starting to get annoyed. And the rain was getting really bad.

I passed by most of the funeral line when we all got into another town and the lanes combined back into two and I was forced into line with the rest of the funeral goers. I was a little stressed about this until we hit a red light where the cop had blocked traffic and was letting us all through. “Cool,” I said to myself as I imagined the unencumbered drive from there to 29N. No more lights! A mile later a cop pulled out in front of me and the line stopped.

“What is going on now?” I said out loud as another funeral procession began to pull out in front of me. There I am, sitting in the middle of a funeral procession, watching another funeral procession drive down the road in front of us while the rain continued to pound down, the road was turning into a river, and I was starting to get a little freaked out. The hearse in front of me and the hearse behind me made me feel a little claustrophobic, a little too close to being trapped by dead people, trapped between the dead and the water and both were closing in fast. Eventually the cop in front moved and the traffic began to ease forward and we moved into another small town where I was signaled through another red light by the local cop, but then turned right and left the 200 car, double funeral to escape through another small town.

The rest of the drive was incredibly beautiful. I realized that I was on some sort of Civil War route, as periodically I would come upon a historic placard describing a battle which was a turning point in the war, or a camp, or something else old. If only I had not been in a hurry to get to DC.

Eventually, an hour later, and 100 miles more than it should have taken to get there, I arrived at my hotel. I guess that trip was a sign of things to come, as the next day was no less stressful or bizarre, and eventually at nine pm on Monday night I arrived back in Greensboro, a little less than 36 hours after I left, with 660 miles more on the car.

Thanks, All...

2008-04-22T07:31:00.001-07:00

For all who haven’t heard already, I did not pass the Foreign Service Oral Assessment. I needed a 5.25 and I got a 4.5. Not too shabby, but not good enough. I am taking the next few months to decompress from this process and then I will start it all over again in the fall. Thanks to everyone for your love and support.

And here is a thought for you,

“Is a Jesus fish bumper sticker on your car justification for insane driving?”

Happy "Day After Tax Day" Day

2008-04-16T13:22:00.000-07:00

Tax returns are a beautiful thing. It feels like free money. I always forget that it was money I was earning all year long that the government borrowed to invest and who already made more money off of my money than I did. I forget that and just think about how I am suddenly flush with cash. This year was a good year. I forgot to change my tax form to take into account Bronwen and my new husband. Therefore, the government took way too much money from my check thinking I was single. So when we went to file this year, we were amazed to see the amount that we were going to receive.

Now the money is in the bank and as usual is oozing out of my debit card faster than I would like. All of the things that needed to be purchased, but I was putting on hold are getting swept up. Things are getting done, medical bills paid, credit cards paid down, etc. But I like having a big ole checking account and it is getting smaller daily. Well, money is meant to be spent.

Friday-Sunday

2008-04-14T08:28:00.001-07:00

This past weekend was chockablock. On Friday night Nikki invited us over for dumplings and scallion pancakes. We drank mojitos and played the guitar and had a wonderful time. The girls fell asleep in Nikki’s bed and Dan and I had a chance to really relax and chat with friends.

Saturday it was supposed to rain all day, but it held out and we played in the front and back yard. I bought a suit for my oral assessment (it is linen and beautiful!). Chris and Phil came over later that night for Bacon wrapped shrimp on the grill (this was the first grilling day of the season!), mashed potatoes, salad and CATAN! Dan won the first game, but Chris came back with a vengeance and won the second game.

Sunday was cold but sunny. I awoke to find the inside of the house wrapped in yarn. I still do not know what Piper was doing. The girls finger painted in the back yard while we read our books and sipped tea in the sun. After Bronwen’s nap we went to the Greensboro Grasshoppers game. We met up with our wonderful friend Ethan and his new girl. We ate pizza and ice cream and drank beer. Then the temperature dropped and we couldn’t take the cold anymore and left. I hung out with Ethan for an hour more, catching up and playing arcade bowling. When I got home, Dan and I got through two more episodes of West Wing, Season 2, and we were off to bed. It was a great weekend, and it was hard to go back to work this morning.

This Friday Bronwen goes in for eye surgery at 6:30am, two days later I will be in Washington taking the Oral Assessment for the Foreign Service. Things don’t ever slow down around here.