Showing posts from April, 2012

African Skies (Are Bigger Than Ours)

First I find out that Australia has states, and now the Internet tells me that Africa's landmass has the rest of the world whupped.  What the heck did I learn during my 4 years at an Ivy League institution, anyway?

Zamboni Drivers Are People, Too

Homemaker Man, who writes better posts about zambonis than anyone else I know, sent me a list of questions as part of a meme.  I have a lot in common with Homemaker Man, seeing as how we both married goyim.  So, even though I usually don't do memes, I am taking time out of my busy blogging life to answer the following questions he sent me:

1. Have you ever stolen anything in your life? (don't answer this if it's a felony still under the statute of limitations. Disclaimer)

I've stolen men's hearts with gleeful abandon.
2. Can you read my mind?

Yes, and I'm telling your wife.
3. Coopon or Q-pon (there is a correct answer here)?

There is always a correct answer.  But I'm not giving it to you.

4. Medium rare or vegetarian?

Medium-rare vegetarians are delicious!
5. How many angels fit on the head of a pin?

Damn it, Jim, I'm a writer, not a seamstress.
6. What's the frequency, Kenneth?

Don't call me Kenneth.  Or Shirley.
7. What does it have in it's pockets?

Gotcha! Questions

You know, I pride myself on being relatively well-informed on what is going on in the world around me.  And yet, I managed to fail this week's news quiz at the New Yorker.  I blame East Coast liberal bias.

Anyone else want to take a shot at it?

Brinkmanship, Suburban Style

I just want to let you know that we are down to our last roll of toilet paper in this house.  ONE MORE ROLL.  And I don't go to the commissary until Sunday.  I know! It's like bungee jumping, only more scary.

Oh, yeah, I could panic and go to the local grocery store and get toilet paper there.  More expensive toilet paper.  After I examine every single brand and determine the relative square footage and prices. With the aid of a calculator and maybe a slide rule or two...

Or I could just wait 2 days and go to the commissary, where I already know which toilet paper is the best buy (and where I don't seem to mind sharing that knowledge with attractive fellow customers, comparison shopping hussy that I am).

Fun fact:  A double roll?  Isn't.

I just noticed that our regular toilet paper is "100% premium recycled."  I don't really want to think about that.

Health Alert


Et Tu, Hairbrush?

I managed to whack myself on the nose with my own hairbrush while blow-drying my hair today.

Have I mentioned that, growing up, my best friend and I were always the last ones picked for teams during gym class?  Picture the humiliation of having to stand there while the two team captains argue over who has to get stuck with each of us.  What's amazing is that I didn't really care much.  I didn't have a competitive bone in my body, and I never could figure out why anyone cared who caught the ball, who got more runs, etc.  It just didn't register with me.

Anyway, while I am no longer faced with the humiliation of kickball (and let me tell you, I have etched permanently on my brain the image of my best friend willing her foot to make contact with that slow-moving ball and yet missing it completely), it seems that my own beauty accessories insist on bearing witness to my complete lack of hand-eye coordination.

Henri the Despairing Cat was right - there is no escaping oursel…

Tennis, Anyone?

There are a lot of people from the University of Virginia looking at this post the past couple of days.  Why college students would be interested in reading about a middle-aged woman's humiliation at the hands of Harris Teeter personnel, I cannot imagine.  And would it kill any of them to comment on it?  I feel so used.

Let's not talk about my day, as it did not go very smoothly.  My children didn't even eat breakfast until 10 AM.  And I'm not proud of the fact that the number of people who showed up for homeschool tennis was twice what I had told the nice gentleman who runs that program to expect. 

Also?  I had to pay 1800 dollars in order to make sure our 2004 Odyssey would pass the state inspection and also not lose its timing belt on a local highway. 

1800 dollars is a lot of money, people.  In case you didn't know...

To top it all off, Blogger seems to have rolled out a new version of itself.  So if the comments don't work, or something else looks weird, …

Wherein I Call Yeats "Awesome"

Today, I will follow Amy's example and post a poem in honor of April's being poetry month.  Long ago, when I was young and in college, I went through a phase of posting poems on the walls of my bedroom.  Please remember, young' uns, that this endeavor actually required some effort on my part: there were no poems on the Internet to copy and paste and print out.  There was no sharing of inspirational quotes on Pinterest or Tumblr.  I wrote these out myself from a book that I had gotten from a library.  I stopped short of using calligraphy, but still...


Anywhoo, I no longer recognize that young lady who - in addition to being able to thrive on 6 hours sleep and bike up and down the steep hills of Ithaca, NY -  posted poems on her bedroom wall.  I don't remember why she did that.  I don't even recall what criteria she used in their selection.  But one of those poems, by Yeats, has always stuck with me; and here I share it with you (just imagine Garrison Keillor …

The Staff of Life, Made Easy

I can't even remember what I did this weekend, and it isn't even over yet.  Hello, early-onset dementia!

Let's see, I did cook some.  I know!  It was shocking.  But Larry was home and I felt guilty.  Also, I had recently found an awesome no-knead bread dough recipe on Pinterest for crusty bakery-type bread that normally costs more than 4 dollars a loaf at the grocery store.  

You know, I'm used to succumbing to the siren song of whatever recipe fad is out there, only to be disappointed with the results.  But this time? I am churning out crusty loaves of bread with little to no effort on my part.  And no one cries!  My not-so-little tykes actually sit there waiting for the bread to come out of the oven so that they can slather it with butter and devour it.

Of course, that may be more a function of how hungry they are than of how good it is.  I don't know.

 The secret to the crust is to bake the bread in an enameled cast iron pot.  I bought one online at Target for 5…

They Paved Paradise...

Those of you who didn't watch yesterday's video are missing out on the fun.  Just saying...

Today?  I woke up worrying about how I was going to get myself back on track with Weight Watchers (there was an unfortunate, uh, incident with the jelly beans on Sunday...and Monday...and maybe Tuesday); but my weight loss problem was solved by the appearance of a rogue stomach virus post-lunch today. 

So I've been lying on the couch like a Victorian lady with the vapors, in between staggering to the kitchen to sip on flat ginger ale.   I assume the children managed okay for dinner, judging by the fact that the leftover ice cream in the freezer seems to have disappeared.

Foraging for food is an important life skill.  Also?  Foraging for cheap pizza coupons...

Did I ever mention that I was very excited about cooking when Larry and I first got married?  You see, we were both in the Navy at the time and ate at the chow hall.  In fact, that's where we met.  (I know!  Romantic!)  But …

Birthdays and French Cats

Another birthday yesterday (Brian's), and our first one of the calendar year - thus starts what we call our birthday season, which runs from April through November.  That means it is time for me to start turning the numbers over in the sidebar there, where I list the kids and their ages.  I swear, nothing has made the passage of time more apparent to me than seeing those numbers change.  5 years ago, when I started this blog, I had an amusing toddler in the house, and Rachel was still wreaking her particular brand of 4-year-old havoc, and little 9-year-old David didn't even know how to cook.  I was still changing diapers, navigating naps, and reading nursery rhymes.  Now, everywhere I turn, I see teens and tweens, people as tall as me or taller, and there is nary a diaper in sight.  5 short years, and our entire family has changed...

And, yes, I AM wanting to sing "The Circle Game" just about now - if I could just stop weeping long enough to remember the darn words.


For Better Or Worse, But Not For Curtains

My Easter was very nice, thank you.  Well, except for the part this morning where I caught my skin in the zipper of my dress-up pants.  Apparently, there is only so much fat that one can suck in.  Also, I absentmindedly slipped a Reese's Easter egg into my (warm) front pants pocket right before church.  Do not try this at home, kids.

Auntie Kate is still here.  She has been sewing window treatments for our living/dining room.  It's the third part of our 3-year redecorating plan: the first year, she recovered the seats of my IKEA dining room chairs and made matching throw pillows; the second year, she created a bench cushion out of the same material; and this year we picked out coordinating fabric for the valances.

Yes, she's nice, and no, you CANNOT have her.  She's mine.  Or Larry's, really...

There is a slight issue with the new valances that might end up requiring the services of a mediator.  Apparently, Larry never got the memo that, while he has final say on l…

Hunger Games

I'm back!  Whew, last week was not a fun one.  And now we have a houseguest (Auntie Kate), which means that this week involves tourist-y activities, plus visits to JoAnn's and my having to cook honest-to-goodness meals.  Somehow, Auntie Kate does not get excited about cheap pizza.

What?  That thing at the top of my post?  Some nice lady from BlogHer gave it to me.  But now I'm confused - I could have sworn Twinkies went out of business a few months ago.  Didn't they?

My mother never bought Twinkies.  I always thought it was because we were Jewish, because all my goyische friends had Hostess products galore in their kitchens - Ringdings, Twinkies, Yodels...

Oh, wait, I think we had Devil Dogs once.  But I didn't like them.  Mostly, we had Stella Dora and Entenmanns.  We lived 4 miles from an Entenmanns outlet store.  I know!  It was almost a fairy tale childhood.

I think I'm rambling here.  In short, it's a good thing that I'm not being paid to endorse H…