Snickers Bars Are My First Responders

I love this.

Well, Frankenstorm wasn't so bad in these parts as predicted; but I was up late anyway, listening for the telltale cracking of the tree that was going to come crashing through our roof.  Also, keeping an eye on developments in NY/NJ, which were bordering on apocalyptic.

Can we all have a round of applause, by the way, for Mayor Bloomberg?  Just seeing all those ambulances lined up, waiting to rescue NICU and PICU patients from a power-less NYU Hospital, was awe-inspiring.  New York did itself proud last night.  Everyone knew his job and did it, come wind and high water.  And transformer explosions.  And collapsing buildings.  And...well, you all saw the rest.

So I sat up late to hang out on Twitter, texting my family in NJ with any relevant news (they were already in the dark, both literally and figuratively) and watching Mayor Bloomberg's awesome sign-language lady, all the while with this tune running nonstop through my head:

[Play it - it's catchy!]

Essential First Aid Supplies

And now?  On to Halloween!  I'll admit it - with kids underfoot all day yesterday and today, I've been breaking into the Snickers Minis a bit.  As emergency rations, they definitely did the job of maintaining morale.  My morale, that is...

Anyone need some jugs of water?  We've got plenty.




[Sandy chart: The Hollywood Reporter]
[Snickers image: Consmr]

Frankenstorm

We've been so busy hunkering down around here, I forgot to post.  Currently, the above tune is going through my head, and I'm pondering whether it is worth driving to Harris Teeter at this point to see if there is a loaf of bread left.  There sure as heck aren't any size "D" batteries left in town.  Or bottled water.  Or flashlights.

All I can say is, this storm had better live up to expectations, or we are all going to look mighty silly.  And no one will ever believe the weather guys again.

Is It Halloween Yet?

The Halloween candy lies in a bag in my laundry room, mocking me every time I go down there to throw in a load (3 times a day, people).  In fact, this morning, I heard the Twix Bars call my name.

My pretties...

I searched all the shelves in Target today, looking for mini packages of Hot Tamales to hand out next week.  I couldn't find any.  I found Smarties, I found Twizzlers, I found Mike and Ikes - but no Hot Tamales.  I would have asked for help, but I felt like an idiot, complaining about some missing candy whilst surrounded by approximately 15 billion bags of the same.

So the question remains - WHERE ARE THE HOT TAMALES?  I crave their chewy cinnamon goodness, with an urgency unmatched even by my love of fun-size Snickers.  Don't judge - I'm nothing but an overworked suburban mom seeking comfort, like so many others out there this time of year.

Can I blame this on the Obama administration?  Is it possible that its economic policies have caused massive shortfalls in Hot Tamales production?  And why didn't this come up in last night's debate?  Oh, sure, it was all Iran this and Syria that; but what about the issues that truly matter to us as  Americans?  What does it matter if the troops come home from Afghanistan if there are no Hot Tamales awaiting them?  Apparently we, as a country, have forgotten the things that truly matter.

I guess I'll just go drown my sorrows in a Twix.  But it isn't the same...










[Hot Tamales image: CandyWarehouse]

Maybe We Should Just Stay Inside

Gosh, here's some news you can use.  Yup.  For those of you who don't think it is worth clicking on that link in order to avoid self-immolation, I'll give you the headline:

Banana Boat Recalls Sunscreen After Reports of People Catching on Fire

Seems that, if you spray on this sunscreen, you shouldn't stand too close to an open flame.  At least, not until the product is completely dry.  The manufacturer blames the spray valve, "which is over applying the product. As a result the lotion is taking longer to dry, which raises its flammability risk."

Raises?  Now I don't know about you, but I'd rather not spray anything on my kids that has the remotest possibility of transforming them into human torches.  Tell me, what exactly is the definition of "over apply," anyway?   Does this mean that, while you are spraying your kids with sunscreen and yelling at them to cover their eyes and close their mouths, you have to figure out at what point you have crossed the line into child flambé territory?

Not flammable

 

You know, we didn't even have sunscreen when I was growing up.  Instead, my mom slathered me with Noxzema.  And no one caught fire.  

 

Ah, the good old days...

 

 

[Banana Boat image: GlobalPost]

 [Noxzema image: Her Bad Mother]

Working Girl

[Note: There are no images on this post.  That is because I Googled "Office Girl images" too close to Halloween, and now I need to get a double eyeball transplant to unsee what came up.]

Last night I had a dream that my supervisor from my last full time job (you know, the one I left almost 21 years ago after giving birth to my first child) called me up.  "Where are you?" he asked, annoyed.  "Why haven't you come back from maternity leave?"

So I said, "I'll be right there!" and hung up the phone.  My job!  Of course!  I'd forgotten.

"Larry!" I said, grabbing my purse.  "I have to go back to work.  It's been 20 years.  Can you bring Rachel to her tennis lesson?  I'm late."

Larry was annoyed.  "I can't," he said.  "You're supposed to do it." (Side note here: this is not really like Larry - he's a nice guy who wouldn't try to stand in the way of his wife's career, even a career that has been on a 2-decade-long hiatus.  Besides, he likes money.)

I called my supervisor back to tell him I'd be late.  But a local NPR talk show host picked up the phone instead and wouldn't let me leave a message.  He kept thinking I was trying to call in on his show.  It was very frustrating.  I mean, my first day back on the job!  I didn't want to make a bad impression. 

I gave up on the phone call and decided that, if I could only get out of this Home Depot elevator I seemed to be trapped in, I could still drive one state over to my old workplace and things would be all right.

Dreams are weird.

I woke up confused.  My job!  They want me back!  But wait - I have to get all the kids to the dentist this morning.  But what about my job?  Maybe LARRY could take them to the dentist. 

I don't know what to make of it.  All day I haven't been able to shake the feeling that I am expected back at work.  That I am playing hooky here at home...

Can I just blame the menopause for this?