Halloween, look what you've done

If you're like me, you're tired of hearing anyone and everyone older than you saying "when I was a kid, ________ [insert national holiday here]____ was nothing like this, it was like __[insert simpler glazed over version of situation____."

And you may or may not roll your eyes.

I don't want to be another one of those people.

However, after abruptly picking up my tantruming 6 year old and leaving the fabric store this afternoon, I started to deconstruct how we got to that place. And my path went thusly

pre-20th century: superstitions, witch trials, people walked around with eye patches because they were actually missing an eyeball

mid 20th century: kindly-Norman-Rockwell-types passed out homemade candied apples to neighbors' kids that they knew by name, who dressed up in bedsheets and painted-green-faces. Razor blades and poison? What's that?

2011: My kids think that Halloween is as big as Christmas. I get questions like "why aren't we decorating [with $$$$'s of tacky tacky tackiness] for Halloween?" and the aforementioned "WHY CAN'T I GET GIANT [$20] BUTTERFLY WINGS WITH MY [$30} MERMAID COSTUME?! YOU ARE SO MEAN!!!"

I mean, I can't believe this is where I am.

I actually pulled her aside and gave her the age-old American guilt trip of most kids in this world didn't eat more than a bowl of grain today (widespread disease, child labor, pestilence, you know the spiel).
Did she care? Of course not.

No, all she cared about is how I was stopping her lifelong dream to become this:



Darn you Swimways WaterWays Mermaid Fairy! I blame you for the whole thing.

And now I'm going to look into ways to ship my kids to a third world country for a few weeks so they can experience some boils or have to milk a dehydrated goat for sustenance...

Sweet merciful crap! Five minutes!

A single friend of mine and I were discussing the [fantastic] website $&#% My Kids Ruined and she said "what I want to know is, where are the parents when the kids are doing all of this?"
If you're a parent and you're reading this, you probably share my intital slightly insulted reaction, and perhaps my following sentiment of "oh, you'll see someday, someday when your own kid makes a peanut butter n' jelly sandwich with your new laptop, you'll see. And I'll laugh."

But as for this afternoon, I'll tell you where I was, for only five minutes while my kids cooked up some hot humble pie for me.

We've been working on the home addition, which causes me to interact with alot of real adults and big checks, and measurements and deadlines. On the phone, I try to sound really normal. I actually try to avoid dealing directly with humans in person at all (see previous post) but when it comes to flooring, gotta have people come and measure, no matter what.
So I scheduled a time for floor-guy to come, which was this afternoon, right after school. My last words to my little buttercups were "change into playground clothes, as soon as he leaves, we'll go"

I walk out to meet [Michael Chiarello's flooring doppleganger] and I'm immediately aware when I shake his hand how normal he is and how blue my hair is and how daisy my dukes are.

I show him the areas under construction using as many industry vocabulary terms as I can stuff into a sentence. He measures and then he said "and your hallway?"

{{{{violin screech}}}}

"right, the hallway-- um, come around this way," I say as I silently debate whether it's sounds crazier to forewarn that I have little kids or say nothing and hope for the best.

Upon opening the hallway door, this is what I, and more importantly what "Chiarello'" saw:

1.entire bag of cheddar bunnies dumped and crushed.
2. two chihuhuas scurrying for the hills (read: dirty laundry baskets)
3. one 6 yr old sobbing and holding a broken backyard chicken egg in each hand and struggling to offer explanation.
4. one totally naked 4 yr old with poopy butt repeatedly exclaiming "mom! You gotta wipe my butt!"

You got those measurements? Ok good.--" --*door close*

actually that's the opposite of good

I was considering cutting off all my hair, mostly because I'm restless and in need of even more change.

I google image searched "short hairstyle fine hair"

(oh and how I wish "fine" meant super-fly, not infant wispy)

And this came up:



Umm...wow. That is precisely the look I'd like to avoid, thank you very much. I think the only worse interpretation "short fine hairstyle" is bald!

Then I added the search term "dark" to the image search and up came this:



She's gonna show up in my nightmares for sure; if that in fact is a human and not some demi-human character from a teenage vampire saga. Zoinks!

So I removed the word "hairstyle" and I got this:



Everyone knows, the terrier look went out of vogue at least 10 years ago, completely unflattering.

So maybe I don't want to cut it anymore...

home additions are pompous

there I said it.

I both absolutely love the idea of adding a room to our little house and also think less of myself for it. I'm actually embarrassed to come out of my house and identify myself to the construction workers because I feel like I should have big shoulder pads and a bichon friese in my overly priced european handbag.

I want to keep blog-track of the construction, but I can't bring myself to do it. Like I might as well be the woman saying "I just eat anything I want, lemme show you how my weight keeps going down." That woman is annoying, and so is the person talking about home improvement in a big fat recession.

So, instead of highlighting the positive, I will gripe about fireplaces.

We used to have a fireplace. It never worked so it really was more of just a place, than a fireplace. A black hole in the wall where the spiders built condominium webs and tiny toys lost behind the couch would live in exile. We kept a couch in front of the 'place because when your living room has the dimensions of a family size Ritz box, you need all the space you can get.

A few weeks ago, it was bashed down with heavy machinery. Which is good, since our neighbor informed us that all of the fireplaces in our tract were considered condemned and unstable after the 1989 earthquake, which is why everyone else rennovated theirs. Grrreat.

I still want a fireplace, so we had one drawn into the plans in a much more subtle way. It won't block furniture or demand attention with Tuscan/Craftsman/Country details. I just want a glass rectangle, from behind which fire will occur. Seems simple enough?

No, it isn't. I'm learning that ordering a fireplace is like buying a used car, in a foreign country. There are no comprehensive user/customer reviews online. You can't order one online.** You have to order it from a shop. I'm Generation Y, I hate going to a shop with real life sales people. Real life sales people up-sell, dodge questions, and are creepy in general. Real life sales people question my style choices and budget. That makes me crazy.

-----

SIDETRACK: I'll translate the following sales phrases into how I hear them:

"Hi." = "I see you."

"How are you?" = "in case my manager is watching, I'm doing what s/he told me to"

"How can I help you?" = "you look lost and poor, are you in the right place?"

"What are you looking for?" = "I want to surmise how much of a sucker you are, I'll judge 1-10 by your answer."

------

The guy I got at the last shop, he was like in a time warp from last century. He was chauvinistic to say the least and kept bringing up my husband like he was Ralph Kramden and I was Alice. Annoying.
I guess it's the nature of the business. I might be the one and only 30 yr old woman that ever came in alone to buy a fireplace. Most people my age rent their place. The average homeowner in my neighborhood is old enough to be at least my parent or older.

Also they keep bank hours at those places, because the kind of people that spend big money on home heating don't have day jobs (?!) so I guess I have to take off work early to go? This whole thing is ludicrous, no wonder man invented central heating!


**correction: okay so I looked again and you can buy some fireplaces online, but it's really hard to know if you're getting what's right for the space and energy requirements.

how I hoodwinked the animal communists without an ounce of guilt

When I was growing up in Texas, things were simple, when it came to dogs.
You don't want your dog? You take it to the shelter.
You want to get a new dog? You adopt one from the shelter.
Simple. Efficient. Dare I say, Libertarian.

Because after all, they are dogs.

Here in CA and especially in the bay area, adopting a dog is akin to international infant adoption.
Background checks, drug tests, retinal scans, and a very uncomfortable full-body-interview process, all of which is necessary before you can even take a number, to get on a list to be considered to fill out an application.*

*truth: okay, I exaggerated a teeny bit, but here are the real requirements:
You must take a number to make an appointment.
You must have all persons and animals who live in the household present to interview for the dog.
All persons and animals are then evaluated on dog-worthiness, by a staff person (read: crazy cat lady) for at least 30 minutes.
If for any reason the staff believes you are unfit to adopt the dog, you are rejected (and your children sob uncontrollably).

Since I have small children and an existing dog, this makes me largely ineligible for any dog adoption. Why is that? Because children get excited around cute new dogs and jump and yell, and Mojito freaks out being in an animal shelter. Especially when they make you wait in the lobby for 20 minutes so the children and chi-weenie can get all anxious and tense.

Yes, I tried twice in two different cities to adopt a homeless animal, and twice I was given verdict of unworthiness.

My reaction: I was furious.
I've had dogs for 25+ years. Mojito eats organic kibbles, gets walked, nails clipped, teeth/ears cleaned, belly rubbed, roams both fenced yards whenever he wants, and bonus, gets all the fallen floor food from my kids. He lives like a king.
But he sits alone for 6 hrs during the day and his best friend died last year, so sue me for wanting to get him a friend (wolfpack!).

And [crazy cat] ladies judge me?! No way!!

So last night I came up with a plan. insert maniacal laugh
This morning I executed it. insert badass transitional music

I took off my wedding ring, pulled out my passport with my maiden name and chose an alias mailing address, so to avoid traceability back to Mojito or his registration under my name.
I drove down to the unnamed city's animal shelter, arriving shortly after opening time with cash in my wallet and took a number. insert funk guitar riff...okay I'll quit the screenplay notes...

I handed them my passport and filled out my application as a single white female with no pets.

I picked out the sweetest little homeless and neglected chihuahua, ab libbed my lines in the interview and the dog was mine.

Mine, I tell you!!!

I walked out of there a winner.
I haven't felt that awesome in a long time. It was better than scratching a lucky $100 lotto ticket.

And even though I totally lied about my life-status, everyone wins. The overcrowded, under-funded shelter has one less mouth to feed, the dog gets a new home and a life of luxury that's better than most humans on earth get, and our family gets a new member to love.

Win win win.

The proverbial frosting was applied when I stuffed her into my totebag before walking through my front door. I had told the kids I was going to the store. Kevin knew where I was going (and he's still not happy about it) but he didn't know I had a dog hiding in my bag either.

Then I told Kid C to look inside to see what I had brought her. :D

I don't have to tell you that they didn't want to sit and eat their lunch after that revelation.




p.s. she's an incredibly good dog. I really can't believe how well behaved she is. Heaven knows where she came from, she's 4 lbs under weight and just came out of the shelter. But she's fantastic. :)

gee thanks mister

Item		Description	Unit Price	Quantity	Sub Total
43		Monterey Bay Aquarium - Adult	$26.45	2	$52.90
13		Monterey Bay Aquarium - Child	$16.45	2	$32.90
		Order Sub Total			$85.80
		Shipping & Handling			$11.69
		Grand Total			$97.49
		Estimated Savings from List Price		$2.31

that's right, $2.31 saved...yeah, um I think I'll just get them at the door and save the UPS man some gas.

sheesh. so dumb.

Vacay Indecision 2011

In a couple of weeks we have a 4 day weekend, both kids, both adults.

No, not Memorial weekend, the weekend after, it's not important, I digress...

First thought: Hit the road go stay somewhere!

Second thought: Wait, it's Summer now, and that means lodging rates are high.

Third thought: Crap.

I explored everything from KOA Kottages to hostels this evening, and it's pretty much $100/night unless a tent is involved.

And no tents will ever be involved, unless I'm hiding to save my life, or I am homeless!

I looked at just doing day trips, but to go to Great America or even Gilroy Gardens as a family is $200 (crazytown) not counting parking or food. The Boardwalk, easily $100 for the day, Zoo's $50+, and even the Newark splashy pool place is $40, and you have to endure Newark.

This is when I just had one of those "so-and-so has a cabin in such-and-such place, they never use it.

But we don't "know people" that "have nice stuff."

Not happenin.'

Someone was telling me how their family used to car-camp (instead of tent camp). They would fold down the seats or something in their van or wagon and sleep in there...oh but wait, there are 4 of us, that's insane, no.

I might as well just get a yurt.---No, I just looked up yurt rates across the state, those are $$$ too! Dangit!

The alternative obviously is that we don't go anywhere. We just treat it like a double weekend in which laundry and dishes are shuffled around and somebody spills something every 3 hours and I step on action figures and feed the pets.

Boo hiss, that's not fun. It's summer and I'm getting grey hairs, I wanna go somewhere.

The frustration of discouragement

As I type this, my back is slumped, and unlike when I normally notice I'm slumped, I correct it, but I'm so downtrodden that I don't even care to prevent my old-lady-humpback from forming.

When I have days like today, when all the tiny things that happened add up to you suck I start to think that I'm supposed to change something in my life. So that the tiny-you-sucks will stop. It makes my mind wander around to:

"hey, I never waitressed before, maybe I could do that?"
or
"maybe I should just make paintings and sell them"
or
"maybe I should stop working altogether and stop paying for that expensive preschool and just stay home like a hippee and be one with the earth?"

But those aren't really good ideas. Well the painting one might be. I do think about it sometimes, that maybe I should just paint, and sell my paintings and tell graphic design to stick-it, or just be selfish with it and make my own badass promo materials from the comfort of my own dark creative cave...and grow a beard...

I also think "my dad just kept quitting things when he felt like he sucked, and that was disastrous to say the least."
So I have a little "quitting will make you a loser" tape that plays in my head*.
Even though my [earthly] gut says "go! take your family to the Amish country and never look back [else I be turned into a pillar of salt], I suppose that's not a viable option.

I wish I had the entrepreneurial wiring. Unfortunately according to Strengthsfinder 2.0 , I'm only good at coming up with ideas and being the first to act on them, not actually coming up with a plan and following through on it. I know this comes as a big shocker to everyone that knows me! But that makes me feel like a loser. 'That I can't manage people, and what I think is a detailed plan is what detailed people call an "outline."

I recently read Tina Fey's quasi-biography, and while reading it, I thought "I could be a comedy writer. I could totally do it!" But then I was discouraged that I'm already 30, and she got her college degree in playwriting. And I don't want to live in LA or NY, so that's out the window too.
But maybe just writing a book? Maybe that's attainable...

I know all this boils down to an attitude change. I need to accept that my daughter thinks she's better than the rest of the family, her will cannot be broken and just wait for that day when God smites her to rock bottom or something.
I need to accept that my son never wants to leave the house, won't eat anything but candy and gets in trouble all the time at school/church. I think he'll actually grow up to be just fine, and I have to just let people think I'm a terrible mother and be okay with that.
I need to accept the limitations of my job and be grateful for it. I need to continue to engage with other people even though on most days I want to stay in bed with my covers pulled over my head, because that's what humans have to do.
And I have to stop feeling bad that I'm not feminine, I have chubby upper arms and I'll never be as cool as the women in ReadyMade magazine.

Easier typed than done.


*other tapes that play in my head: "headbands are for normal size/shape heads, stay away" and "if you don't wear make-up, people won't be nice to you."

I just submitted this to another blog

I just submitted this quick post to one of my favorite blogs.

-----

Around 18 mo's old, my first kid climbed on the toilet paper holder (like an indoor climbing wall) and broke it.

So my husband fixed it.

And she broke it again.

Repeat, repeat until we just gave up on having a tp holder and just put the roll on floor like a gas station restroom.

Recently, I thought I found a solution to the problem and stuck those 3M hooks onto the wall and tied a ribbon through them to hold the roll.

Then this morning, I walked in and saw this:

-----

*note 1: It's now been 5 years since we had a real TP holder

**note 2: The kids have their own bathroom down the hall, in which the tp holder is completely intact and unbroken.

Get out your Bibles, and cross out "corn"

As I was researching Isaac Newton's determination of the original calendar date of the Crucifixion (the most scholarly thing I did all week, for sure) I noticed the mention of "corn."

A while back I heard a sermon in which the speaker referenced Biblical corn as well.

Corn?!

Corn is a New World crop, so why the heck are there 33 references to it, in both OT and NT?

Now, you probably know where this is going. It wasn't corn, the original Hebrew and Greek don't say "corn," they say grain.
But why not just say grain? Or phonetically translate the weird ancient word for it, like other hard to pronounce names and places?

According to a couple of commentaries I read, it's because the King James Translators knew that people of their time thought corn was really cool (because it was from the mysterious New World).
Then why do so many other modern translations still use "corn"? (Thankfully there are a number of English translations that say "grain") My theory is two fold: 1.American translators are USA-centric. Just like we counterintuitvely split Asia down the middle to make a world map with us in the center, so also do we think American corn is the best grain (it's in almost everything we eat). 2.Translators think we're smart enough to understand a triune God but too stupid to understand millet.

Darjeeling Unlimited

I want to travel to India.

Really badly.

And unlike roughly half of our neighborhood, I can't just hop on a plane and hang out with family there for months at a time. (pssst, because I'm not from India)

Do you know how much a ticket to India costs?

I do.

Here's a hint: Southwest Airlines doesn't fly there.

It's about $1800.00, not counting the overnight hotel stay in London in the middle of the journey.

At this point I wonder: How is it that a family of four living in a tiny one room apartment with one Tercel between them, flies back and forth so often to their homeland, when it's $1800/pp?! Perplexing. (possible answer: they eat only rice and never go to Target?)

Kevin has absolutely no interest in going to India. He also had no interest in going to Africa or Haiti either, but he came with me on those adventures anyway. So I think I have a pretty good chance of whittling him down about it over the next few years.

I'd really like to take Kid C with me, so that means I'd have to wait 4-5 years. I wanna really hit home the idea of most-people-in-the-world-are-poor-and-you-live-like-a-princess as well as be an Auntie Mame character to her too.

Since it's so far in the future, I've begun planning and I'm not even looking at the prices.

Rupees are no object! ;)

The PBS series The Story of India has been most helpful!

(and it also made me curse my incompetent Asian Art History professor in college who totally sucked at teaching about it. I mean, how can you learn about India with a whiteboard and a green marker? )

First, since I'm a naive american, I thought I should probably do a tour. You know, to make sure I'm not shanghaied, enslaved or murdered for sport by unsavory fellows along the spice road.

Thanks to their former imperial lords the British, there are in fact anglo-oriented tours for anglos touring the Orient.

Tally Ho!...or should I said "Jai Ho!"?

They offer both group and private tours. At first thought, I leaned towards group touring, keeping in mind the Mutual of Omaha specials about herds of slow moving targets being safer than a stray beast by the water hole. But then I looked at their mini-maps of where the tour-herds graze and I didn't like those routes.

Plus, from my prior experience in Italy with our group tour, the doofus listening to Black Eyed Peas next to you and talking about his canadian pharmaceutical business really kills the local atmosphere.

So private touring it is. Oh but what to choose?...hmm...well since I have all the time and money in the world in my fantasy journey, let's pick 3 tours!

(Sickening Fact: when we toured Italy, we met rich kids on our trip that just took tour after tour of Europe all summer long. Spoiled kids! Barf!)

Tour number 1: Bombay Beaches and Caves

(check, check and check)

Bombay, no explanation needed.

Goa, beaches, also great.

I will totally let my flabulous mid section shine in indian garb while I'm there too.

Tour number 2: Great Southern Getaway [from air conditioning]

I think they should call this tour the Temple of Doom. Elephants, temples, and jungle-- all they're missing in the description are missing sacred stones and of course human sacrifice. I'd opt out of those anyway.

Tour number 3: Sri Lanka + Maldives

(Matt Lauer approved*)

*I connect the Maldives and Matt Lauer in my mind from some Today show I saw in which they sent a couple on a honeymoon to the Maldives and Matt Lauer was like "that place is nice, I've been there."

This is the ultra exotic vacation that pretty much tops any other I can think of. As long as nature doesn't smite us, I think these 10 days would be worth every penny (roughly 220,000 pennies in that price tag).

If you Google Maldives, you'll get photos like this:

Yep, that's pretty much perfect. Somewhere inside that hut is probably a fondue pot full of cheese and an on-call massage therapist. And puppies. On-demand puppies.

There are tons of mission org's and orphanages at which I'd like to help. I'm not sure how that would work out, but hey, I'm adding it. I'd also like to include meeting two of the boys we sponsor who both live in India. Yes they live in totally different cities, but it's on my itinerary!

I also want to go during the Holi festival so I can pelt and get pelted by colored chalk balls.

Thus concludes my fantastic fantasy voyage.

Now I want butter chicken....

6 reasons why I'm a real adult now

in no particular order, other than the order that they squeaked out of my brain

1. I take my car in to the dealer for scheduled maintenance.
I don't push my car to the nearest gas station and make hand motions charades-style to the "mechanic" and then pray that my credit card has enough space to handle another fix. Nor do I duct tape the repair problems on my own.
Just driving my car (that was built this century) onto a white tile surface feels grown-up and privileged-- even though I have to bum rides like a teenager while it's getting its check-up...I guess getting a rental car for the day would be super-grown-up.

2. I get calls from the school principal's office.
Not for Kid C mind you, and she actually has a real principal, but she's an angel and never gets in trouble.
For Kid R however, I get calls more often than I'd like. Until last week, they were all due to him being sick in someway or another, but now I get behavior calls.
Joy. Parental joy.
I feel like an [unwilling] adult when I take walk-of-shame to pick him up from the school office because of his crunky spaz psycho behavior. I don't think adults are supposed to use those adjectives about children, but I do.

3. I meet with architects.
Yes, really. I'm a co-homeowner (which also gives me loads of real adult points, like beating a "boss" on a Mario level. And that nintendo reference also shows how old I am). I get to make deciscions like "yes, make the fireplace look like this" and use words like "wainscoting" "soffit" and "composite decking." Mind you, I attend these meetings barefoot at my dining table with craft-glitter encrusted on it, but I'm still in the game.

4. I spend more than 50.00 at a time at the grocery store.
If I saw an item, say the sewing machine that I really really want but can't justify buying, that costs 280.00 (although in fairness the Brother costs closer to 400), I wouldn't buy it. I would walk away. But I go to Safeway, buy random stuff to feed, wipe, and clean the anklebiters and I hand over a load of moola. Most of the time I don't even pay attention to the total. Because that's how adult I am. Although the mature thing would be to pay attention to the total and track it, try to reduce it etc. I didn't say I was mature, I said I was adult. Like the kind of adults on Judge Judy, not on CSPAN.

5. Teenagers and college students think I'm ancient.
Tattoos, piercing, blue hair, I've got it all. What I don't have is a birthday in the 1990's. I have old-face and two kids. Ain't no way they're gonna follow me on Twitter (they're too cool for Twitter anyhow) and they're going to accept my friend request on Facebook out of politeness and then probably "hide" my news feed because they don't care how funny my kids are.
I can tell they can't tell the difference between my age and their parents age.

6. I can buy bunnies and motorcycles, but I prudently choose not to.
I never had a window of time in which I was independent enough and not-broke enough to buy a bunny and a motorcycle and enjoy them.
I never had a time in which I had both the cash to buy a motorcycle and have no one care about me enough to tell me not to ride one because I would surely die. (which I agree would happen...because I'm an adult)
And I never had a time in which I could pour all my heart's affection and spare time into a furry adorable rodent. Humans, large and now large-and-small, receive 95% of my love/time, which leaves 4% for Mojito and 1% for anything else living in this house.
Bunnies and motorcycles just don't fit into a real adult lifestyle. I still think they are both fantastic and I'll have to settle for screensaver slideshows or something safe and nerdly to satisfy my respective appetites.

I blurbed

I had a groupon that was expiring in less than 24 hours so I had to get Blurbing or else $$ would go down the drain.

So I made it, and it took SO much longer than I thought it would take to make a 20 page photobook. My legs are numb I've been laptopping for so long on this one little book.

my flu, deconstructed

Everyone hates being sick.

(Actually I liked being sick as a kid because I'd rather lay in bed all day than go to school. The only proviso being barfing. Barfing is never cool.)

But being sick, over the age of 18, is extra sucky. Because when you're a grown-up:

-You have to tell people at your work (or college, if I rewind far enough) that you're sick.
I always think that people don't believe I'm really sick.

In fact, I had this one job that I had for 4 years, I was forced to come in, no matter how sick I was (as long as it wasn't intestinal, see above), because my boss would always come in, no matter how sick she was. She even came in when she had pink eye (!), how messed up is that?

All because of the almighty dollar.

And that's the thing, I don't care about the dollar when I'm sick. When I'm sick I go into desperation mode, and think thoughts like: "I can't possibly get out of bed because I'm so miserable, and I'm willing to give up one of my kidneys or shave my head or eat ramen for a whole year to be able to stay in bed."

I won't lie, I've contemplated adult diapers because of the misery of getting out of bed. Never acted on that one, but I'm not above it, if I were sick enough.

But back to the idea of work. I had to take off a week in Dec because of the first time I got the flu, then I had 2 weeks furlough days around Christmas. Then I took of 3 days because of my birthday last week and now it looks like I'm gonna have to be off another week. I can just feel how irritated people are at me. Even if they're not, I feel it anyway.

So out of guilt, I work some from home even though I feel like I have the black plague, which stresses me out, and probably makes my flu last longer.

-The kids totally take advantage of me.

Within 2 hours of returning from school this afternoon, the kids had emptied a bottle of my perfume and hung from the towel rack and promptly broke it.

Yesterday I had to spank Kid R 5 times before 9am.

They are completely merciless. Good thing we don't have stairs, because if I were to fall down them, they would just jump on my lifeless body until dawn.

Kevin would find me dead, surrounded by empty marshmallow bags and nestle morsels ground into the carpet like a chocolate chalk outline.

-The rest of the family gets sick.

If we all got sick at once, that'd be one thing, then we all take the same amount off of work and school and that's it.

But it's a stepped process. My flu started Sunday, and it will probably last until the middle of next week. Kid C got sick today so she'll probably be out of school for a week. And then Kid R and Kevin will follow suit in a few days.

I'll be forced to stay at home with two kids that aren't really sick, but have enough cooties to keep them out of school (!)

(Very rarely does an illness keep them from bouncing off the walls. Kid C had pneumonia last year and the only way I could tell was from her temperature. She was still acting like WWF Smack Down was scouting in our neighborhood.)

-Total breakdown of hygiene and motivation.

Talk about smelly cat! When I have a fever/body aches/chills, the last thing I want to do is get in the shower. Showers and their fluctuating temperatures, *shudder*.

Toothbrushing, is that really necessary when I can barely stand up straight?

My hair looks akin to that of a meth-addict, and my couture is replaced by pajamas. I actually wore my pj's in public to pick up the kids afterschool. Good thing I live in Sockwithsandalsland where the fashion bar is low (just above "rural Alaska.")

Calorie count? Exercise? Right out the window. I'm getting bloated and fatter and achier and smellier by the minute. I feel super gross and my pillow case is a silent dirty witness to it all.

And it's not ending anytime soon! All of this mentioned above will repeat for the next week (or more! no!)

Peril!

auld lang syne

Customize a digital collage

Happy New Years, peeps!

(p.s. photos by Kimiyo Cordero, thanks!)

psst...I bee blogged

I just made a big post on the bee-blog.

Check it out.

outdated churches, hide your ficus trees!

I just finished this re-face proposal for a church in the area.

CLICK HERE TO CHECK OUT MY WORK

15 mock-ups, a new record for me.

This is my 4th church re-face proposal I've made, so I guess I need to add a tab to my website so I can show the before's and after's.

Speaking of after's, they're not in the Flickr set, but I'll post just one and you'll get the idea of what it looks like right now.

Yep, there it is. So now go back to the Flickr set and go "ahhhh" :)

Just like the other 3 churches, I don't know if they'll actually do what's in the proposal. Here's hopin.'

(it's 2:30am, do you see that on my timestamp? arg.)

I pretended I was Stacy London

Last night, for 4 hours, Fran, and to some extent Matt E tore down Andrew and rebuilt him.

Andrew is 23. It was time.

It was a pinnacle moment in all of our lives. We even cut his hair in the office copy room. And when it was all done I almost fell over from shock.

Sigh. Fantastic.

Thank you Nordstroms Rack and Burlington Coat Factory. ;)

Christmas Chavez Park

Kid C had her dance recital last night. She really did great. I mean, I know I'm her mom and I love her. But she was so cute (and her little friend too) it was one of those moments I wanted to bottle up. The closest I got was taking a blurry video with my iPhone while Kid R grabbed at my arm. Here it is:





We walked around the park afterwards.


Who doesn't love a snow machine?


(okay this one is out of order, but this was the finale pile-everyone-onstage thing at the end of the show)

sickness momentous

This morning I woke up with Pink Eye.

I am fully grossed out by myself.

I've never in my life had it.

And just like all the other bodily maladies that I thought would never affect personally until one day they did, I am, like I said, revolted.

This particular problem is compounded with my flu.

It's taken me getting it to realize I haven't had the real flu for a really really long time. I can't even remember when, but I was probably a kid.

It's day 6 of the flu. With enough caffeine and ibuprofen in the afternoons I can kinda function normally. But night and mornings, I wish there was a socially acceptable way to just knock oneself out. Each day the virus finds new areas to invade. This morning I woke up and (in addtion to my disgusting eye) my ear was throbbing. Novel.

But I wake up each morning and say "you're not throwing up, thank God. Thank God you're not barfing." Also followed by "you don't live in sub saharan Africa, you have a bed, a drug store, and you don't have to walk 15 miles to get water everyday." So I'm thankful for that too.