I had about 15 minutes of spare time last Thursday night, so I started surfing. I quickly found a brainless arcade game site and looked up the most popular download..."Cake Mania". Mmmmm... I like cake. I thought I'd check it out.
I downloaded the free trial and ONE HOUR LATER my time ran out. Gah! This game is addictive, fun and easy.
Jill, our diligent baking hero, must keep her customers happy by supplying them with the cake that they ordered. If she takes too long, the customer storms out of the shop. If she makes them happy, they give her tips. Kinda like real life, eh?
She can upgrade her kitchen by buying faster ovens, faster icing machines and faster shoes. Also, she can make more profitable cakes by buying candle, wedding and retirement decorations.
I might actually cough up 20 bucks to buy the real game. Yes, it's that good.
Check it:
http://www.cakemania.org/
Don't like cake? Check out Bookworm, my now second-favorite addictive game:
http://www.popcap.com/gamepopup.php?theGame=bookworm
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
I'm a loser, baby, so why don't you kill me?
Over the past three months, I've:
Lost my renter for my rehab house
Lost the buyer for my current house
Lost my boss (and this is a decidedly BAD thing)
Lost my temper...too many times to count
Lost my ability to connect to work from home (again, this is BAD, since I know have to BE there to work...how old-school is that?)
Lost touch with several good friends (again with the BAD)
Alllllmost lost a treasured co-worker
Lost contact with my much beloved husband (who is launching a new brand at his company and works like 50 hours per week...something I've never seen him do)
Lost my motivation for my current training goal
(almost) Lost my sanity
But...since I'm the Eternal Optimist (look it up in the dictionary and you will see my picture!), I also:
Gained a new goal (become a runner. still have to chuckle at this until it actually happens)
Gained a good friend at work
Gained an alliance w/ my boss at work (definitely a GREAT thing!)
Gained several potential buyers for our house (and we are not giving as many concessions this time...the gloves are on now, folks)
Will not have to travel to Russia in the middle of winter (yee-ha...this is big!)
Gained control over my donut addiction. New goal: No donuts until June. You might laugh, but this is a HARD goal for me. Krispy Kreme's a-callin', but I ain't answerin'.
Didn't lose my love for a good movie. Two "must-sees": "The Illusionist" and "Invincible". Illusionist is brilliant; Invincible is inspiring.
Gained the knowledge that Stephen King's son (Joe Hill) is a superb writer...almost on-par with dad. Check out "Heart-Shaped Box" if you are a doubter.
And gained perspective.
My last fortune cookie said: Things are hardest just before the summit.
My, how true this is. So where's the fucking summit already?!
Lost my renter for my rehab house
Lost the buyer for my current house
Lost my boss (and this is a decidedly BAD thing)
Lost my temper...too many times to count
Lost my ability to connect to work from home (again, this is BAD, since I know have to BE there to work...how old-school is that?)
Lost touch with several good friends (again with the BAD)
Alllllmost lost a treasured co-worker
Lost contact with my much beloved husband (who is launching a new brand at his company and works like 50 hours per week...something I've never seen him do)
Lost my motivation for my current training goal
(almost) Lost my sanity
But...since I'm the Eternal Optimist (look it up in the dictionary and you will see my picture!), I also:
Gained a new goal (become a runner. still have to chuckle at this until it actually happens)
Gained a good friend at work
Gained an alliance w/ my boss at work (definitely a GREAT thing!)
Gained several potential buyers for our house (and we are not giving as many concessions this time...the gloves are on now, folks)
Will not have to travel to Russia in the middle of winter (yee-ha...this is big!)
Gained control over my donut addiction. New goal: No donuts until June. You might laugh, but this is a HARD goal for me. Krispy Kreme's a-callin', but I ain't answerin'.
Didn't lose my love for a good movie. Two "must-sees": "The Illusionist" and "Invincible". Illusionist is brilliant; Invincible is inspiring.
Gained the knowledge that Stephen King's son (Joe Hill) is a superb writer...almost on-par with dad. Check out "Heart-Shaped Box" if you are a doubter.
And gained perspective.
My last fortune cookie said: Things are hardest just before the summit.
My, how true this is. So where's the fucking summit already?!
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
Thoughts on a Snowy Tuesday
Work Realization #1: I spent today working from home (affectionately called WFH in our office, as opposed to WTF or WWJD). I realized that work can be as frustrating, if not more so, at home than in the office. It didn't help hearing the laughter of the kids sledding outside as I was on conference call after conference call, working backwards instead of forwards. Discuss amongst yourselves.
Lessons from the Young #1: The struggle for power and control starts young. Every day when I drop Goofy Junior off at school, some kid comes up to me and proudly declares that they "HAVE THE PIG", and show me this stupid little plastic pig. The pig comes from some sort of farm playset. Why they chose the pig to represent power, I will never know. But the pig holds the key. The pig is the shit. The pig is the POWER. At any point in time, all the kids know which kid HAS THE PIG. The pig is much-coveted. So, next time I get a raise or promotion (or a really high score on Frogger), I'm going to scream, "I HAVE THE PIG". Ahem. Okay, maybe I'll just whisper it to myself. Or not. What's "THE PIG" in your world?
Food Find #1: In keeping with my personal training goal, I've been searching for a sweet treat that's half-way healthy and not full of calories. I discovered one! Keebler Right Bites - Sandies. Sandies are a shortbread-type cookie. The normal version is fully of nutritional crappiness and loads of calories. But this version has only 100 calories and they are actually good. Also, BONUS! No transfat and, per the label, "contains two percent or less of salt, high fructose corn syrup, natural flavor, oat fiber, butter (cream, salt), soy lecithin, baking soda".
Food Find #2: Barilla Pasta Plus. What's the "Plus", you ask? Only that these little pastas are chock-full of protein, fiber and omega-3 fatty acids. By looking at the ingredients, you can figure out how...they include lentils, chickpeas, flaxseed, egg whites and barley. So how to they taste? They are a little chewier than normal pasta (or maybe I just didn't cook them long enough), but good! Not, in any way, like whole wheat pasta. BLECK. That stuff is nasty.
Food Find #3: Classico Vodka Sauce (Now I'm a bit worried, as this flavor is not listed on Classico's website!). This stuff rocks. You can even put it on pasta made from lentils and it tastes good. Ha!
Unfortunate Food Find #1: Tubs of pre-made frosting have trans-fat....always. Try to find one that doesn't. I searched the entire 4-shelf area in my local Price Chopper and came away empty handed. Sometimes products can get around actually listing the transfat, if they can manipulate the portion size to a small enough amount. Obviously frosting couldn't do this because trans-fat is LISTED RIGHT ON THE LABEL. So, ever the dilligent researcher, I went in search of a homemade frosting recipe and I found this: Cream Cheese Frosting Recipe - No, it won't sit in your pantry for 6 months waiting for you, but it's easy, delish, and trans-fat-FREE.
Lessons from the Young #1: The struggle for power and control starts young. Every day when I drop Goofy Junior off at school, some kid comes up to me and proudly declares that they "HAVE THE PIG", and show me this stupid little plastic pig. The pig comes from some sort of farm playset. Why they chose the pig to represent power, I will never know. But the pig holds the key. The pig is the shit. The pig is the POWER. At any point in time, all the kids know which kid HAS THE PIG. The pig is much-coveted. So, next time I get a raise or promotion (or a really high score on Frogger), I'm going to scream, "I HAVE THE PIG". Ahem. Okay, maybe I'll just whisper it to myself. Or not. What's "THE PIG" in your world?
Food Find #1: In keeping with my personal training goal, I've been searching for a sweet treat that's half-way healthy and not full of calories. I discovered one! Keebler Right Bites - Sandies. Sandies are a shortbread-type cookie. The normal version is fully of nutritional crappiness and loads of calories. But this version has only 100 calories and they are actually good. Also, BONUS! No transfat and, per the label, "contains two percent or less of salt, high fructose corn syrup, natural flavor, oat fiber, butter (cream, salt), soy lecithin, baking soda".
Food Find #2: Barilla Pasta Plus. What's the "Plus", you ask? Only that these little pastas are chock-full of protein, fiber and omega-3 fatty acids. By looking at the ingredients, you can figure out how...they include lentils, chickpeas, flaxseed, egg whites and barley. So how to they taste? They are a little chewier than normal pasta (or maybe I just didn't cook them long enough), but good! Not, in any way, like whole wheat pasta. BLECK. That stuff is nasty.
Food Find #3: Classico Vodka Sauce (Now I'm a bit worried, as this flavor is not listed on Classico's website!). This stuff rocks. You can even put it on pasta made from lentils and it tastes good. Ha!
Unfortunate Food Find #1: Tubs of pre-made frosting have trans-fat....always. Try to find one that doesn't. I searched the entire 4-shelf area in my local Price Chopper and came away empty handed. Sometimes products can get around actually listing the transfat, if they can manipulate the portion size to a small enough amount. Obviously frosting couldn't do this because trans-fat is LISTED RIGHT ON THE LABEL. So, ever the dilligent researcher, I went in search of a homemade frosting recipe and I found this: Cream Cheese Frosting Recipe - No, it won't sit in your pantry for 6 months waiting for you, but it's easy, delish, and trans-fat-FREE.
Saturday, February 10, 2007
You know you are a geek....
...when a video about the Web gives you the shivers. But this one did. And it should give you the shivers too. Awesome stuff!
http://www.perceptric.com/blog/_archives/2007/2/11/2725655.html
http://www.perceptric.com/blog/_archives/2007/2/11/2725655.html
Monday, February 05, 2007
Restaurant Rant
Cagey, Arun (Cagey's 16 month old son) and I went to dinner last week at a family-friendly Italian restaurant...or so we thought. Since Goofy Junior is now 3-1/2, he's pretty adept at the restaurant gig. He doesn't need a booster, nor a sippy cup, nor a bib. So I've gotten out of the habit of worrying about him too much while eating out.
Cut to Italian restaurant: Helpful waiter (or so we thought) comes to table, inquiring about drink orders. We have kids, so we are ready to order everything at once and proceed to do so. Whoa! This threw him off-guard and he looked slightly peeved. But we managed to get our order in.
Bread? The bread has gotta come quick or the kids get restless. Bread? Hello, BREAD?! BREAD!?!?!?! Bread did not come. Wine came (yee-ha!), but no bread. Moms happy, kids not. Waiter asked if we would like him to bring crackers for kids. SURE! PLEASE! Something to put in their mouths so the napkins, plates, and salt shakers would stay out.
Here's the punchline....wait for it. Wait for it!
He comes out with two bowls of ice cream! And says he can't find crackers, will ice cream do. I think both Cagey's and my mouths hit the table right about the same time. Er, NO! HELL, NO!
Luckily the ice cream disappeared before the kids could figure out that it was meant for them. Then the bread mysteriously appeared and all was well.
Until it was time for the check. It was in the twilight zone with the bread. Kids were starting to meltdown from quickly approaching bedtime. Check? Kids up and running amok, burning off that extra energy from fighting sleep... CHECK?! Kids stumbling around in front of waitresses carrying large trays of hot food. CHECK!?!?!?!?
I could go on, but I think you get the picture. When parents and kids go out to eat, they are not interested in a four-course, leisurely meal. It's more like an air-strike. Get in, get out, and no one gets hurt. Efficiency is key. Waiters and waitresses that are keen to this get large tips. Dorky waiters with no clue bearing bowls of ice cream prior to dinner do not.
Take heed, service industry!
Cut to Italian restaurant: Helpful waiter (or so we thought) comes to table, inquiring about drink orders. We have kids, so we are ready to order everything at once and proceed to do so. Whoa! This threw him off-guard and he looked slightly peeved. But we managed to get our order in.
Bread? The bread has gotta come quick or the kids get restless. Bread? Hello, BREAD?! BREAD!?!?!?! Bread did not come. Wine came (yee-ha!), but no bread. Moms happy, kids not. Waiter asked if we would like him to bring crackers for kids. SURE! PLEASE! Something to put in their mouths so the napkins, plates, and salt shakers would stay out.
Here's the punchline....wait for it. Wait for it!
He comes out with two bowls of ice cream! And says he can't find crackers, will ice cream do. I think both Cagey's and my mouths hit the table right about the same time. Er, NO! HELL, NO!
Luckily the ice cream disappeared before the kids could figure out that it was meant for them. Then the bread mysteriously appeared and all was well.
Until it was time for the check. It was in the twilight zone with the bread. Kids were starting to meltdown from quickly approaching bedtime. Check? Kids up and running amok, burning off that extra energy from fighting sleep... CHECK?! Kids stumbling around in front of waitresses carrying large trays of hot food. CHECK!?!?!?!?
I could go on, but I think you get the picture. When parents and kids go out to eat, they are not interested in a four-course, leisurely meal. It's more like an air-strike. Get in, get out, and no one gets hurt. Efficiency is key. Waiters and waitresses that are keen to this get large tips. Dorky waiters with no clue bearing bowls of ice cream prior to dinner do not.
Take heed, service industry!
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
Wednesday's Random Goofiness
(in no particular order)
- I am typically floating in Border's 20% off coupons, until I actually need one. Then there are none.
- I am pondering an ebook venture on eBay. Has anyone bought an ebook on eBay? Would you buy one if it was the right topic and price?
- An airline kicked a family off a flight when the 3-year-old daughter would not take her seat. She was "climbing under the seat and hitting the parents and wouldn't get in her seat". I agree with the airline's action. Do you?
- I told my personal trainer I needed a goal. Stupid! Stupid! Now I have to do 30 minutes of cardio 5 times per week for the next six weeks. It's been two days and I can't feel my butt anymore. And I can't eat donuts anymore. WHAA!
- Since we will be traveling to Russia again sometime this spring for our second adoption, I am re-taking a Russian language class. Russian is very easy when you are saying, "That is the dog."* and "My name is Goofy." But after only three weeks, we are conjugating verbs like mad and getting into things like genitive case, accusative case and dative case. Gah! Do I really need to be able to say, "I will read my professor's purple Russian book in the study, with the candlestick"?
- I still haven't done my 2005 taxes. How much trouble am I in?
-My favorite new website is Woot. They offer one deal, per day. It's typically a geeky-techy thing, like a gaming mouse, digital camera or Roboraptor. A sister site is Wine.Woot. Same thing, only wine and one deal per week (not day). I love the one thing per day model. What else could be sold this way? Books? Food items?
- I'm dyeing my hair purple on Friday. Just 'cause.
*funny language note: There are no articles in Russian (the, that, this, a...), so you basically say "That dog." instead of "That is the dog." If you want to ask whether that furry thing is indeed a dog, only your inflection changes... "That dog?" I imagine they do a lot of pointing in Russia.
- I am typically floating in Border's 20% off coupons, until I actually need one. Then there are none.
- I am pondering an ebook venture on eBay. Has anyone bought an ebook on eBay? Would you buy one if it was the right topic and price?
- An airline kicked a family off a flight when the 3-year-old daughter would not take her seat. She was "climbing under the seat and hitting the parents and wouldn't get in her seat". I agree with the airline's action. Do you?
- I told my personal trainer I needed a goal. Stupid! Stupid! Now I have to do 30 minutes of cardio 5 times per week for the next six weeks. It's been two days and I can't feel my butt anymore. And I can't eat donuts anymore. WHAA!
- Since we will be traveling to Russia again sometime this spring for our second adoption, I am re-taking a Russian language class. Russian is very easy when you are saying, "That is the dog."* and "My name is Goofy." But after only three weeks, we are conjugating verbs like mad and getting into things like genitive case, accusative case and dative case. Gah! Do I really need to be able to say, "I will read my professor's purple Russian book in the study, with the candlestick"?
- I still haven't done my 2005 taxes. How much trouble am I in?
-My favorite new website is Woot. They offer one deal, per day. It's typically a geeky-techy thing, like a gaming mouse, digital camera or Roboraptor. A sister site is Wine.Woot. Same thing, only wine and one deal per week (not day). I love the one thing per day model. What else could be sold this way? Books? Food items?
- I'm dyeing my hair purple on Friday. Just 'cause.
*funny language note: There are no articles in Russian (the, that, this, a...), so you basically say "That dog." instead of "That is the dog." If you want to ask whether that furry thing is indeed a dog, only your inflection changes... "That dog?" I imagine they do a lot of pointing in Russia.
Monday, January 15, 2007
A Quiet Month
Well, I've sure been quiet, huh? It all started with that darn "Blog Every Day For a Month" thing. I have this fear of committment, so I just gave up and waited it out until January.
So here I am.
Don't get me wrong, I've had plenty to blog about, let me tell ya.
Goofy's December/January in a nutshell:
- celebrated an anniversary (Good God...SIXTEEN YEARS!!)
- celebrated a birthday (Holy Moley...FORTY-ONE YEARS!!!!)
- felt very old, so took a nap
- took Goofy Junior to a Nutcracker Tea Party (where he announced during a lull in the action, "When I grow up....I want to be a Ballerina". I'm so proud)
- sold our house on the day before Christmas Eve (complete with visiting family members twiddling thumbs in living room as we signed paperwork with the buyer's agent)
- hosted Christmas dinner
- had a very quiet New Year's Eve at home (the first one ever, I think)
- bought a new house on New Year's Day
- had the buyers of our house get cold feet and back out THREE DAYS after we bought the new one
- had quick nervous breakdown wondering how this would all work out
- regrouped and had open house this past Sunday (in the sleet/ice storm - surprisingly, 1 person actually showed up)
- had inspection of rental house
- promptly failed inspection of rental house (electric still not working, water not turned on - picky, picky)
- took matters into my own hands and called city, power company and electrician and played the Whose Problem Is This? game for a few weeks
- finally got electric on (Yeah!)
- finally got water on (Yeah!)
- have two leaks in plumbing (Boo!)
- promptly turned water off (Boo!) and called plumber
- planned and executed company holiday party (shoot, this was easy compared to the rest of the month!)
So what have you all been up too? I've missed you all!
Wednesday, December 06, 2006
Six Goofy Things About Goofy
Dang! I didn't run fast enough and Dorothy tagged me for this meme.
Here are the rules - Each player of this game starts with the "6 Weird Things about You." People who get tagged need to write a blog of their own 6 weird things as well as state this rule clearly.
I've modified the theme to "Six Goofy Things About Me". I've always got to be different...
Okay, drumroll, please...
1. I skipped second grade. While this might make you think I some sort of Smarty Pants, think again. Second grade is where you learn geography. I missed this, so I am very geographically-challenged. I remember when I was about 25 years old, playing Pictionary with some friends. I got the word "Montana" and was stumped about where that was. Yes, really. I drew a darn good picture of the US, then started drawing circles in the west coast region (I knew that much).
2. I grew up knowing there was no Santa. Yep. My parents never perpetuated the Santa Myth. I knew the whole time what was really going on. And I was cool with it. In fact, I've always held the belief that I would not lie to my kid(s) about Santa's existance. I would be very honest with them about the spirit of Christmas (the giving part, not the capitalist spend-fest part), and tell them that Santa was just a symbol for how cool it is to give other people stuff during this holiday. However (ahem.) there are lots of forces against me here. Namely, Gramma, Grandpa, daycare, and every other little kid around. Goofy Junior came home the other day sad and said, "if I'm not good, Santa won't bring me any gifts for Christmas". What parent would actually follow through on this threat? None. Then why do we make it?! Okay, probably more on this later...
3. Continuing with the holiday theme....I can't wrap presents. I never learned this skill. I am totally, completely, utterly inept at wrapping. Gift bags, you say? I can't figure those out either. Why don't the damn things come with instructions? Mine always end up looking like someone stuffed a used Kleenex in a paper bag. And the gift always shows. Drat!
4. I am good at word stuff. Not necessarily writing (obviously!), but mainly grammar and proofreading. I can find a typo in just about any document you can put in front of me.* I frequently find typos on the news (not too hard, if you notice that sort of thing). It's actually a curse and it drives me crazy. I was very close to majoring in English in college, until I realized I was destined for starvation and poverty if I did so.
My biggest pet peeve is when folks confuse plurals with possessives. For example, "Orange's on sale for 99 cents". Arg! This is wrong! It should be "Oranges on sale for 99 cents". You only use the apostrophe for possessives, like "Spike's oranges are on sale for 99 cents."
Also, I can do a Word Search puzzle faster than anyone around. Challenge me sometime and see!
5. I have a Food-with-a-Face problem. I can't eat any sort of animal that still looks like the live animal. For example, boiled shrimp. I can't eat them. They still look like they could hop off the cocktail glass, run out the door and jump into the sea. Eek. This is why I can't make the Thanksgiving Day turkey. The first year we made a turkey, Mr. Goofy was jokingly making the raw turkey do a little "can-can" dance with his hands. I had to leave the room and could hardly eat any turkey that year. Give me a nice, juicy, anonymous-looking steak any day. You can keep your creepy lobster, thank you very much. Shiver.
6. I have an addiction issue with video games. I'm not joking. Back in my twenties, my roommate got a Nintendo system. I called in sick for most of the week, until I had gotten little Mario all the way to the final level. I have to steer clear of games that have more than a few levels, because I just can't stop playing. I fell off the wagon a few times for Bookworm in the past few years. It's like Scrabble meets Tetris. There is no known end to this game. Believe me, I've played for days. Luckily, you can pause this game for things like eating and sleeping!
*Pleese Noot: These does nott meen that I myself donot make gramatikal errs or typoos. I try knot too, but shite happenes, folkes. :-)
Here are the rules - Each player of this game starts with the "6 Weird Things about You." People who get tagged need to write a blog of their own 6 weird things as well as state this rule clearly.
I've modified the theme to "Six Goofy Things About Me". I've always got to be different...
Okay, drumroll, please...
1. I skipped second grade. While this might make you think I some sort of Smarty Pants, think again. Second grade is where you learn geography. I missed this, so I am very geographically-challenged. I remember when I was about 25 years old, playing Pictionary with some friends. I got the word "Montana" and was stumped about where that was. Yes, really. I drew a darn good picture of the US, then started drawing circles in the west coast region (I knew that much).
2. I grew up knowing there was no Santa. Yep. My parents never perpetuated the Santa Myth. I knew the whole time what was really going on. And I was cool with it. In fact, I've always held the belief that I would not lie to my kid(s) about Santa's existance. I would be very honest with them about the spirit of Christmas (the giving part, not the capitalist spend-fest part), and tell them that Santa was just a symbol for how cool it is to give other people stuff during this holiday. However (ahem.) there are lots of forces against me here. Namely, Gramma, Grandpa, daycare, and every other little kid around. Goofy Junior came home the other day sad and said, "if I'm not good, Santa won't bring me any gifts for Christmas". What parent would actually follow through on this threat? None. Then why do we make it?! Okay, probably more on this later...
3. Continuing with the holiday theme....I can't wrap presents. I never learned this skill. I am totally, completely, utterly inept at wrapping. Gift bags, you say? I can't figure those out either. Why don't the damn things come with instructions? Mine always end up looking like someone stuffed a used Kleenex in a paper bag. And the gift always shows. Drat!
4. I am good at word stuff. Not necessarily writing (obviously!), but mainly grammar and proofreading. I can find a typo in just about any document you can put in front of me.* I frequently find typos on the news (not too hard, if you notice that sort of thing). It's actually a curse and it drives me crazy. I was very close to majoring in English in college, until I realized I was destined for starvation and poverty if I did so.
My biggest pet peeve is when folks confuse plurals with possessives. For example, "Orange's on sale for 99 cents". Arg! This is wrong! It should be "Oranges on sale for 99 cents". You only use the apostrophe for possessives, like "Spike's oranges are on sale for 99 cents."
Also, I can do a Word Search puzzle faster than anyone around. Challenge me sometime and see!
5. I have a Food-with-a-Face problem. I can't eat any sort of animal that still looks like the live animal. For example, boiled shrimp. I can't eat them. They still look like they could hop off the cocktail glass, run out the door and jump into the sea. Eek. This is why I can't make the Thanksgiving Day turkey. The first year we made a turkey, Mr. Goofy was jokingly making the raw turkey do a little "can-can" dance with his hands. I had to leave the room and could hardly eat any turkey that year. Give me a nice, juicy, anonymous-looking steak any day. You can keep your creepy lobster, thank you very much. Shiver.
6. I have an addiction issue with video games. I'm not joking. Back in my twenties, my roommate got a Nintendo system. I called in sick for most of the week, until I had gotten little Mario all the way to the final level. I have to steer clear of games that have more than a few levels, because I just can't stop playing. I fell off the wagon a few times for Bookworm in the past few years. It's like Scrabble meets Tetris. There is no known end to this game. Believe me, I've played for days. Luckily, you can pause this game for things like eating and sleeping!
*Pleese Noot: These does nott meen that I myself donot make gramatikal errs or typoos. I try knot too, but shite happenes, folkes. :-)
Thursday, November 23, 2006
A Tale of Two Turkeys
On this Thanksgiving Day morning, as I watch Mr. Goofy begin preparing the turkey*, I think back to the first Thanksgiving we hosted together, as a new couple.
If I think back to how long ago this actually happened, it will make me feel old. Suffice to say, we were young and dumb. But, of course, we were very eager to make an impression on the family. And we did, but probably not the one we had wanted. Anyway....
We would be having all of Mr. Goofy's family (aka Fam Goofy), which is 6 folks. Plus ourselves for a total of 8. We cleaned the house, we rounded up serving bowls, and I think we actually went out and bought two more chairs for our dining set. We were eager to please....
Then, the night before, we went out to buy the food. Do you see the flaw yet?
I had calculated that we needed a 20-pound turkey. NOTE: Today I know that the Rule of Thumb is 1 pound per person for a whole turkey, so this was a little overkill, to say the least.
We got to the store and went to the turkey bin. It was almost picked clean! We managed to find two 10-pounders and quickly claimed them for our own.**
Boy, folks really buy their turkeys early. How strange! Who has that much room in their fridge to keep a turkey for a week?
Do you see it coming? Do you?!
We got the turkeys home and realized our error...THEY WERE FROZEN SOLID! This was why folks bought the turkeys early...so there was time to thaw them.
We used the cold-water-in-the-sink method. But remember...we had two turkeys. And a small oven. So we figured we would cook one turkey for the family, then cook the other one for leftovers. Lemons from lemonade, you know??
So Mr. Goofy (not a morning person) got up at the butt-crack of dawn, figured out a stuffing recipe (the same one we use today!), prepared, stuffed and lovingly placed the turkey in the oven.
But, as luck would have it, Fam Goofy showed up 1 hour before the turkey was done. Starving. Whiny. Had we got any appetizers? No. Could they go get sandwiches? NO!
We kept the wolves at bay until the first turkey was done. But that hour was painful. It was like preparing a meal in front of 6 hungry tigers. They were actually pacing when the hour was up! But....
Tom Turkey was delicious. And Tanya came out in time for snacking later in the day. And everything else came out okay. I got some complaints about the pumpkin pie (Fam Goofy prefers apple, I found out), but they dealt well.
This year, it's just the 3 of us, since we are not traveling. And I bought a 13-pound turkey. Goofys never learn...
*Lest you think me lazy (ha!), don't worry...I continue to have responsibility for mashed potatoes, green bean casserole and any and all desserts (this year pumpkin-walnut bread and pumpkin pie). Mr. Goofy is simply better at the turkey/stuffing thing than I, hands down.
**I named them Tom and Tanya. This began my tradition of naming the frozen turkeys that we cook. What!?!? You don't do that? You're weird...
If I think back to how long ago this actually happened, it will make me feel old. Suffice to say, we were young and dumb. But, of course, we were very eager to make an impression on the family. And we did, but probably not the one we had wanted. Anyway....
We would be having all of Mr. Goofy's family (aka Fam Goofy), which is 6 folks. Plus ourselves for a total of 8. We cleaned the house, we rounded up serving bowls, and I think we actually went out and bought two more chairs for our dining set. We were eager to please....
Then, the night before, we went out to buy the food. Do you see the flaw yet?
I had calculated that we needed a 20-pound turkey. NOTE: Today I know that the Rule of Thumb is 1 pound per person for a whole turkey, so this was a little overkill, to say the least.
We got to the store and went to the turkey bin. It was almost picked clean! We managed to find two 10-pounders and quickly claimed them for our own.**
Boy, folks really buy their turkeys early. How strange! Who has that much room in their fridge to keep a turkey for a week?
Do you see it coming? Do you?!
We got the turkeys home and realized our error...THEY WERE FROZEN SOLID! This was why folks bought the turkeys early...so there was time to thaw them.
We used the cold-water-in-the-sink method. But remember...we had two turkeys. And a small oven. So we figured we would cook one turkey for the family, then cook the other one for leftovers. Lemons from lemonade, you know??
So Mr. Goofy (not a morning person) got up at the butt-crack of dawn, figured out a stuffing recipe (the same one we use today!), prepared, stuffed and lovingly placed the turkey in the oven.
But, as luck would have it, Fam Goofy showed up 1 hour before the turkey was done. Starving. Whiny. Had we got any appetizers? No. Could they go get sandwiches? NO!
We kept the wolves at bay until the first turkey was done. But that hour was painful. It was like preparing a meal in front of 6 hungry tigers. They were actually pacing when the hour was up! But....
Tom Turkey was delicious. And Tanya came out in time for snacking later in the day. And everything else came out okay. I got some complaints about the pumpkin pie (Fam Goofy prefers apple, I found out), but they dealt well.
This year, it's just the 3 of us, since we are not traveling. And I bought a 13-pound turkey. Goofys never learn...
*Lest you think me lazy (ha!), don't worry...I continue to have responsibility for mashed potatoes, green bean casserole and any and all desserts (this year pumpkin-walnut bread and pumpkin pie). Mr. Goofy is simply better at the turkey/stuffing thing than I, hands down.
**I named them Tom and Tanya. This began my tradition of naming the frozen turkeys that we cook. What!?!? You don't do that? You're weird...
Sunday, November 05, 2006
Goofy in the Land of Goofy
So I'm down in Orlando this week for a conference. I'm sure you are jealous, as I get to learn everything I've ever wanted to know about Data Warehousing. Yes, my friends, it's an alphabet soup kind of week...ETL, EDM, ERD, CDI, MDM. Oh, I could go on, but I'm already feeling selfish by bragging.
I have realized that I have a, let's say "unique" style of traveling. When I travel to a place I've never been before, I have a routine of sorts that I go through, so I feel comfortable. It's kind of like a dog turning around three times before he lays down to go to sleep.
When I get to the area around the hotel where I'm staying, I don't directly go to the hotel. Rather, I drive around and get a "lay of the land". If I'm going to be going to a place other than the hotel, I go find that place, in relation to my hotel. I also find some yummy-looking restaurants and a Coffee-Place-That-Is-Not-Starbucks. And a Walgreen's or Target, just in case I forgot something. THEN I go to my hotel and check-in.*
Once in my hotel, I immediately unpack. I don't know why. I use the excuse of "wrinkled clothes", but I think it's more of a nesting thing.
Once "nested", I check out the propaganda in the hotel room (visitor mags, city books, etc.), then I go check out the hotel. I find the gym, the restaurants (man, you'd think I was worried about where my next meal comes from, huh?) and concierge. If there's a concierge, I go hit them up for area information (even though I've done research before even getting on the plane).
Okay, after putting this all out into the ether, I feel like a big dork. But it honestly just occurred to me that NOT EVERYONE DOES THIS! I felt like a travel agent today on a break giving several people directions to the hotel's best restaurant, the water taxi to the bar district (leaves every 15 minutes) and the pool. C'mon people, it's ORLANDO...you didn't even go check the pool out yet???
Okay, so I'm a Travel Freak. Or maybe a Travel Control Freak. But I'll never be a Lost Travel Control Freak.
*I typically only do this while traveling ALONE. Mainly because Mr. Goofy relentlessly makes fun of me for doing it. Until we get lost and I'm there with the "I told you so". Ha!
I have realized that I have a, let's say "unique" style of traveling. When I travel to a place I've never been before, I have a routine of sorts that I go through, so I feel comfortable. It's kind of like a dog turning around three times before he lays down to go to sleep.
When I get to the area around the hotel where I'm staying, I don't directly go to the hotel. Rather, I drive around and get a "lay of the land". If I'm going to be going to a place other than the hotel, I go find that place, in relation to my hotel. I also find some yummy-looking restaurants and a Coffee-Place-That-Is-Not-Starbucks. And a Walgreen's or Target, just in case I forgot something. THEN I go to my hotel and check-in.*
Once in my hotel, I immediately unpack. I don't know why. I use the excuse of "wrinkled clothes", but I think it's more of a nesting thing.
Once "nested", I check out the propaganda in the hotel room (visitor mags, city books, etc.), then I go check out the hotel. I find the gym, the restaurants (man, you'd think I was worried about where my next meal comes from, huh?) and concierge. If there's a concierge, I go hit them up for area information (even though I've done research before even getting on the plane).
Okay, after putting this all out into the ether, I feel like a big dork. But it honestly just occurred to me that NOT EVERYONE DOES THIS! I felt like a travel agent today on a break giving several people directions to the hotel's best restaurant, the water taxi to the bar district (leaves every 15 minutes) and the pool. C'mon people, it's ORLANDO...you didn't even go check the pool out yet???
Okay, so I'm a Travel Freak. Or maybe a Travel Control Freak. But I'll never be a Lost Travel Control Freak.
*I typically only do this while traveling ALONE. Mainly because Mr. Goofy relentlessly makes fun of me for doing it. Until we get lost and I'm there with the "I told you so". Ha!
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
Self-Doubt and Peer Pressure
This post could be about me, but it's not. It's about my 3-1/2 year old son.
Today I picked him up from daycare and mentioned that tonight was BASKETBALL CLASS! Instead of the girlish scream of delight and the Jack Russell terrier-like jumping up and down, I got a downcast look and a frown.
"I don't wanna go to Basketball class," says Goofy Junior.
"Why not?" I inquire.
"I'm not good at it," he whines.
"WHAT?!?!?," I say. I am seriously shocked by this answer. Yes, he's not as good as SOME of the boys, but he's up there, considering he's a full six months younger than most of them.
I get down on his level, all serious and Mommy-like.
"Alex, I understand if you don't want to go, but that is WHY we go to class...to get better at things. And I think you are very good at basketball!" I can't believe that he has seriously thought about this and decided that he is not good and doesn't want to be embarrased in front of others. Jeez! He's only 3-1/2! Guess that's not too young for self-doubt, obviously.
Another downcast look and frown. "I'm bad...." he says.
"You are not bad at basketball. You are good at basketball. But..." (thinking now of how I don't want to be THAT Obsessive Sports Parent) "if you don't want to go this week, we don't have to go. It's your class and it's your choice to go."
This appears to go over pretty well with him. He seems to relax.
"If you don't go to Basketball class, what will we do instead tonight?" I ask.
"Eat candy!" he exclaims.
Oh great.
Today I picked him up from daycare and mentioned that tonight was BASKETBALL CLASS! Instead of the girlish scream of delight and the Jack Russell terrier-like jumping up and down, I got a downcast look and a frown.
"I don't wanna go to Basketball class," says Goofy Junior.
"Why not?" I inquire.
"I'm not good at it," he whines.
"WHAT?!?!?," I say. I am seriously shocked by this answer. Yes, he's not as good as SOME of the boys, but he's up there, considering he's a full six months younger than most of them.
I get down on his level, all serious and Mommy-like.
"Alex, I understand if you don't want to go, but that is WHY we go to class...to get better at things. And I think you are very good at basketball!" I can't believe that he has seriously thought about this and decided that he is not good and doesn't want to be embarrased in front of others. Jeez! He's only 3-1/2! Guess that's not too young for self-doubt, obviously.
Another downcast look and frown. "I'm bad...." he says.
"You are not bad at basketball. You are good at basketball. But..." (thinking now of how I don't want to be THAT Obsessive Sports Parent) "if you don't want to go this week, we don't have to go. It's your class and it's your choice to go."
This appears to go over pretty well with him. He seems to relax.
"If you don't go to Basketball class, what will we do instead tonight?" I ask.
"Eat candy!" he exclaims.
Oh great.
Friday, October 20, 2006
Saying Goodbye
Our oldest dog Casey is old. She will be 14 in a month. She's a Siberian Husky, so it is quite an achievement that she has lived this long. She is not overweight and is in pretty good health. But her age is showing. She's a little slow getting up and down from a nap. She can't make it down the stairs to the basement anymore when she has to "do her doggie duty" in the middle of the night, so we have been finding "Casey presents" on the living room floor in the mornings. She doesn't like loud noises, and she twitches when she hears them (I call her "Katherine Hepburn" when she does this - it looks like a palsy shake). She doesn't eat two meals anymore...only one.
Our vet tells us that Casey has very low liver enzyme levels. This is typical with a tumor of some sort. While nothing shows up on the latest x-ray, our vet has prepared us that Casey might not be around for very much longer. We can spend a lot of time and trouble finding this tumor, or we can let her live her life out to the inevitable end.
We've had Casey since she was a puppy - we got her when she was about six months old. We had been married about a year and she was our first venture into committing to someone other than each other. I was worried we would never be able to go out at night anymore - that we would have to rush home to feed to dog. Mr. Goofy assured me that we would make it work. We did.
I remember the first night we brought her home. She was in her crate in the corner of our bedroom, and upon waking up to find herself alone, she made these funny bark-yelping noises that sounded exactly like a dying monkey. We buried our heads under the covers laughing until she calmed down and went back to sleep. After about three days, she settled in and decided that we would take good care of her. And we did.
We've been good Puppy Parents. We've taken her to various parks, to St. Louis for family visits, to PetSmart to go shopping, and to friend's houses. We've gotten her piles of squeaky toys, big bones to chew, and cozy blankets to sleep on. We've adopted two "siblings" to keep her company, first Tucker (who was only with us a few years until getting slammed with a heart tumor) and then Murphy (who is currently the resident "diva" in our house). She accepted each addition willingly and with an understanding that she was not the only dog in the house.
When we adopted Goofy Junior, she became the Mother Hen. We were worried that she would be jealous. She was not. She took her place as "Third Parent". If Junior cried, she would rush to come get us (as if we couldn't hear). If he was crawling on the ground, she would hover around, protectively. She willingly submitted to tail pulls, eye pokes and skin grabs, all without any show of anger or irritation. Mr. Goofy was looking at some pictures from the last several years and came to the realization that in almost every picture of Goofy Junior, Casey is also present. She sticks by him like glue.
So now, Casey is nearing the end of her long and comfortable life. The end is inevitable, as it is for all of us. When we put Tucker down, I took the stand that we should be happy that we had been able to adopt him and give him several years of happiness and love at the end of his life (he was an older dog when we adopted him). I'm trying to keep that same perspective about Casey. But it's hard. We have given her many years of love and care over the past fourteen years, but she has given us so much more back. She has given us thousands of happy door greetings, hundreds of face licks, tons of tail wags, miles of playful puppy sprints through the house, many paw shakes and countless nose nuzzles. And I will miss all that.
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
Teaching an Old Dog New Tricks
After much prodding from MY SON (yes, the 3 year old), I went to Great Clips last night to get my hair cut. I normally go to Salon Feux-Feux* and pay about $60 for a shampoo, haircut and blow-dry. Great Clips was $13; I had a $2 off coupon and I left a $3 tip, so we'll call it $14. Someone check my math, k?
So I didn't get a great conversation, the latest salon gossip, a neck massage nor a cold beverage...but I got a great cut. I can't tell the difference.
My frugal buddy Cagey did this same experiment about two years ago and bragged about how much money she saved. Me being stubborn (Capricorn that I am), I defended my choice of Salon Feux-Feux:
"My hair is short, so I need a special cut". Guess what? Great Clips can cut short hair...pretty darn good too!
"Feux-Feux is close to where I work". Great Clips is close to where I LIVE, and they are open until 9:00pm.
"It's also close to the donut shop" Okay, this is just a BAD thing!
Also, my Great Clips cut took about 20 minutes, where I usually waste an entire lunch hour (and then some) at Feux-Feux.
So call me slow. But now I've got $46 to spend. Maybe I should take more advice from my 3-year old son. Whee!
*Name changed to protect the damn over-priced place.
So I didn't get a great conversation, the latest salon gossip, a neck massage nor a cold beverage...but I got a great cut. I can't tell the difference.
My frugal buddy Cagey did this same experiment about two years ago and bragged about how much money she saved. Me being stubborn (Capricorn that I am), I defended my choice of Salon Feux-Feux:
"My hair is short, so I need a special cut". Guess what? Great Clips can cut short hair...pretty darn good too!
"Feux-Feux is close to where I work". Great Clips is close to where I LIVE, and they are open until 9:00pm.
"It's also close to the donut shop" Okay, this is just a BAD thing!
Also, my Great Clips cut took about 20 minutes, where I usually waste an entire lunch hour (and then some) at Feux-Feux.
So call me slow. But now I've got $46 to spend. Maybe I should take more advice from my 3-year old son. Whee!
*Name changed to protect the damn over-priced place.
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
What would you do if you knew you could not fail?*
I know what I wouldn't do...
I have not sold the house. My money is still tied up in it. I have to go get a "real" mortgage to pay off the rehab-only loan. There is still work to be done on the house to get it ready for a tenant. I know nothing about being a landlord (lady?).
Looking on the bright side:
I have a renter to help me make my monthly payment. And a teensy-tiny bit of monthly cash flow. She doesn't mind that there is no off-street parking. She has no car. And she has three kids. After a year, I can possibly sell the house (complete with renter!) to another investor. Hopefully for a profit, or at least my money back.
The value of the learnings I've gotten from this endeavor: (say it with me...)
Priceless.
* I have this motto on my email return address line. I don't always live by it, but when I do, it's pretty cool.
- buy a roach-enfested, 80-year-old house in "the hood", 40 minutes away from anyplace I would ever be;
- partner with a gal that I ended up meeting once before she was run out of town by people she owed money to (one of which was her mom);
- have the rehab work contracted by a guy who told me "6 weeks" when in actuality it took "12 months";
- end up with a averagely rehabbed house in a market where no one is buying;
- end up renting this house;
- to a Section 8 tenant.
I have not sold the house. My money is still tied up in it. I have to go get a "real" mortgage to pay off the rehab-only loan. There is still work to be done on the house to get it ready for a tenant. I know nothing about being a landlord (lady?).
Looking on the bright side:
I have a renter to help me make my monthly payment. And a teensy-tiny bit of monthly cash flow. She doesn't mind that there is no off-street parking. She has no car. And she has three kids. After a year, I can possibly sell the house (complete with renter!) to another investor. Hopefully for a profit, or at least my money back.
The value of the learnings I've gotten from this endeavor: (say it with me...)
Priceless.
* I have this motto on my email return address line. I don't always live by it, but when I do, it's pretty cool.
Friday, October 06, 2006
Shootin' Some Hoops w/ Goofy Junior
Goofy Junior loved his Sports Skills class so much, that I signed him up for another class. The sport skills they didn't cover in sports class (which did include kicking, throwing, catching and hitting w/ a bat) were basketball skills. GJ has been nuts for basketball since he was little (yeah, I know, he's not that big now), so I thought a Basketball class was in order.
The Basketball class I found was for ages 4-6. GJ is 3-1/2, but he really is pretty good at the ball dribbling and shooting at his Playskool basket, so I figured he'd do okay. And did I mention that he is nuts for basketball? Yeah. My LEAST favorite sport. Couldn't be volleyball. No that would be too perfect. Anyhow...
I pumped him up for it. I started talking about Basketball class really early. The class is held at the Elementary School almost right across the street from our neighborhood. I thought it would be cool to walk to class. GJ did too.
So we walked to Basketball class this past Wednesday. We got inside the gym and all the kids (and parents) were dribbling little toddler-sized basketballs, shooting the ball and generally having some toddler fun. We grabbed a ball and joined in.
Then they had all the kids go into the middle and sit in a circle. Parents sat on the bleachers. This was familiar - we do something similar in Sports class. The difference came next - instead of coming back to the parents and doing drills together, the parents stayed sitting on the bleachers and the coaches worked with the kids.
What!?!? I wanted my money back! Not because of GJ, but because of me. Part of the fun of having a kid is getting to do things like play basketball with them. GJ was a little thrown off too. They did some stretching, then did a slow jog around the gym. Then they broke off into groups of about 3 kids per coach (there were several coaches) and did different drills.
The entire time, GJ was looking at my with a frown on his face (insert heartbreaking sigh here). I probably had the same look on my face, too.
During the first drill, he put down his basketball and came over the bleachers. "C'mon, Mommy. Come with me," he said. (insert more sounds of my heart breaking in two here) "Go on, sweetie. You can do it by yourself," I encouraged.
But he was having none of it. He sat on my lap for the duration of the first drill. I could feel the judging eyes of the other parents on me, but my son's psyche was at stake, so I was giving him a moment, dammit.
I got him to agree to get involved in the next drill. It was across the gym from the bleachers. I walked him over there and took a seat on the floor by the closest (but not TOO close) wall. This helped!
He got involved in the drill (bouncing a ball on the floor, against the wall) and started to smile. After each of his turns, he would put his little ball down, come over to the wall, and give me a hug (say it with me...AWWWWWWWW).
After the fourth drill, we were back around by the bleachers, so I took a seat with the other parents and GJ did his thing. Not so much looking at Mom this time..he was focusing on the drills.
I'm sure there's some analogy here about how kids rely on their parents in the beginning, then not so much, then not at all. I suppose I should wait and see what happens next week when we go back.
Oh, I did I mention that he is a basketball STUD? Ahem. Not that I'm biased or anything.
The Basketball class I found was for ages 4-6. GJ is 3-1/2, but he really is pretty good at the ball dribbling and shooting at his Playskool basket, so I figured he'd do okay. And did I mention that he is nuts for basketball? Yeah. My LEAST favorite sport. Couldn't be volleyball. No that would be too perfect. Anyhow...
I pumped him up for it. I started talking about Basketball class really early. The class is held at the Elementary School almost right across the street from our neighborhood. I thought it would be cool to walk to class. GJ did too.
So we walked to Basketball class this past Wednesday. We got inside the gym and all the kids (and parents) were dribbling little toddler-sized basketballs, shooting the ball and generally having some toddler fun. We grabbed a ball and joined in.
Then they had all the kids go into the middle and sit in a circle. Parents sat on the bleachers. This was familiar - we do something similar in Sports class. The difference came next - instead of coming back to the parents and doing drills together, the parents stayed sitting on the bleachers and the coaches worked with the kids.
What!?!? I wanted my money back! Not because of GJ, but because of me. Part of the fun of having a kid is getting to do things like play basketball with them. GJ was a little thrown off too. They did some stretching, then did a slow jog around the gym. Then they broke off into groups of about 3 kids per coach (there were several coaches) and did different drills.
The entire time, GJ was looking at my with a frown on his face (insert heartbreaking sigh here). I probably had the same look on my face, too.
During the first drill, he put down his basketball and came over the bleachers. "C'mon, Mommy. Come with me," he said. (insert more sounds of my heart breaking in two here) "Go on, sweetie. You can do it by yourself," I encouraged.
But he was having none of it. He sat on my lap for the duration of the first drill. I could feel the judging eyes of the other parents on me, but my son's psyche was at stake, so I was giving him a moment, dammit.
I got him to agree to get involved in the next drill. It was across the gym from the bleachers. I walked him over there and took a seat on the floor by the closest (but not TOO close) wall. This helped!
He got involved in the drill (bouncing a ball on the floor, against the wall) and started to smile. After each of his turns, he would put his little ball down, come over to the wall, and give me a hug (say it with me...AWWWWWWWW).
After the fourth drill, we were back around by the bleachers, so I took a seat with the other parents and GJ did his thing. Not so much looking at Mom this time..he was focusing on the drills.
I'm sure there's some analogy here about how kids rely on their parents in the beginning, then not so much, then not at all. I suppose I should wait and see what happens next week when we go back.
Oh, I did I mention that he is a basketball STUD? Ahem. Not that I'm biased or anything.
Thursday, October 05, 2006
Thursday Tidbits
Mystery Solved!
The mystery of the Sonic Cup Guy (see post below) was solved by my clever staff of commenters. Er, not that I pay them to post comments. I would never do that.
Ahem. Anyway...
It appears that this is a Sonic promotion. If you go to Sonic and tell them you saw the Sonic Cup on the guy's trunk, you get a humonsterous drink for 99 cents. I haven't tried it yet.
I'm considering gluing a pizza box to my Jetta trunk. Then maybe Pizza Hut will give us all free pizzas. It's worth a try, huh?
When Love & Logic Backfires...
The weather has turned a bit colder here in Kansas City, but Goofy Junior is having none of it. He insists each morning on wearing his No-sleeve-shirt/shorts/flip-flop combo outfit. We fight, cajole, hide flip-flops and offer bribes. EACH MORNING. This morning, I had had enough.
When my choices of jeans and t-shirts were scorned, I told GJ, "you wear whatever you want". Of course, he appeared at breakfast with t-shirt, shorts and (surprisingly) tennis shoes. I think his flip-flops were hidden, in hindsight.
I kept my mouth shut, and brought some jeans to school with him. I told his teacher Miss Muffett* my plan. Let him freeze on the playground until he gets the picture, then let him come in and put the jeans on. So.....
It never got cold. Nope. It was a beautiful day. *I* wished I had shorts on.
A smug Goofy Junior came home from school, shorts still on and jeans in his smug little hand.
Drat!
When Open Houses Backfire...
Our daycare had an Open House last Thursday, where parents could come and talk to the teachers about their kid's progress, overall curriculum and how they can support the school lessons at home.
I couldn't make it, but Mr. Goofy (and Goofy Junior) went. They showed up a few minutes into the open house and stayed for most of the entire time. The odd thing?
They were 1 of 2 families there. Yes, TWO. Our daycare probably has at least 100 kids that go there.
And we wonder why our kids can't keep up in school. Hmmmm.....
Adventures in Food and Stuff
Here's some good stuff I've tried recently:
Caribou Coffee - really, really good. Starbuck's ain't got nothing on Caribou. But stay away from their pastries. They are not good.
Mediterrean food - My fellow food adventuress Cagey mentioned HolyLand Cafe. I went there and cannot get enough of this delicious food now. Their hummus is like a little puddle of heaven. I think I've successfully converted Mr. Goofy and Goofy Junior too. And it's inexpensive..bonus!
Had a Birok last Saturday, thanks to Jane. It's a sweet bread roll filled with meat, onion and cabbage. Just delicious, but it gave me horrible gas all weekend. Whoops! Probably more than you needed on that one, huh?
I listened to a great audiobook this past week by a local Kansas City author, "Virgin of Small Plains" by Nancy Pickard. Great character development, great mystery and great use of present time versus flashback to fill in different versions of the story. I drove around the block a few times so I could listen to it more. Yes, it's that good. Support our local authors and check it out!
I finally went to Pierpont's for lunch. What a treat! I had the Blue Crab Sweet Corn Bisque and the Walnut Pear Salad. Unfortunately, I was having lunch w/ a friend that just got laid off, so that sucked. But the food was good. And the prices weren't bad for lunch. Dinner's probably another story.
*Not her real name. Yeah...duh.
SCG UPDATE: It appears that they pay the Sonic Cup Guys $200 a month to drive around with the cups attached to their trunks. Where can I sign up???
The mystery of the Sonic Cup Guy (see post below) was solved by my clever staff of commenters. Er, not that I pay them to post comments. I would never do that.
Ahem. Anyway...
It appears that this is a Sonic promotion. If you go to Sonic and tell them you saw the Sonic Cup on the guy's trunk, you get a humonsterous drink for 99 cents. I haven't tried it yet.
I'm considering gluing a pizza box to my Jetta trunk. Then maybe Pizza Hut will give us all free pizzas. It's worth a try, huh?
When Love & Logic Backfires...
The weather has turned a bit colder here in Kansas City, but Goofy Junior is having none of it. He insists each morning on wearing his No-sleeve-shirt/shorts/flip-flop combo outfit. We fight, cajole, hide flip-flops and offer bribes. EACH MORNING. This morning, I had had enough.
When my choices of jeans and t-shirts were scorned, I told GJ, "you wear whatever you want". Of course, he appeared at breakfast with t-shirt, shorts and (surprisingly) tennis shoes. I think his flip-flops were hidden, in hindsight.
I kept my mouth shut, and brought some jeans to school with him. I told his teacher Miss Muffett* my plan. Let him freeze on the playground until he gets the picture, then let him come in and put the jeans on. So.....
It never got cold. Nope. It was a beautiful day. *I* wished I had shorts on.
A smug Goofy Junior came home from school, shorts still on and jeans in his smug little hand.
Drat!
When Open Houses Backfire...
Our daycare had an Open House last Thursday, where parents could come and talk to the teachers about their kid's progress, overall curriculum and how they can support the school lessons at home.
I couldn't make it, but Mr. Goofy (and Goofy Junior) went. They showed up a few minutes into the open house and stayed for most of the entire time. The odd thing?
They were 1 of 2 families there. Yes, TWO. Our daycare probably has at least 100 kids that go there.
And we wonder why our kids can't keep up in school. Hmmmm.....
Adventures in Food and Stuff
Here's some good stuff I've tried recently:
Caribou Coffee - really, really good. Starbuck's ain't got nothing on Caribou. But stay away from their pastries. They are not good.
Mediterrean food - My fellow food adventuress Cagey mentioned HolyLand Cafe. I went there and cannot get enough of this delicious food now. Their hummus is like a little puddle of heaven. I think I've successfully converted Mr. Goofy and Goofy Junior too. And it's inexpensive..bonus!
Had a Birok last Saturday, thanks to Jane. It's a sweet bread roll filled with meat, onion and cabbage. Just delicious, but it gave me horrible gas all weekend. Whoops! Probably more than you needed on that one, huh?
I listened to a great audiobook this past week by a local Kansas City author, "Virgin of Small Plains" by Nancy Pickard. Great character development, great mystery and great use of present time versus flashback to fill in different versions of the story. I drove around the block a few times so I could listen to it more. Yes, it's that good. Support our local authors and check it out!
I finally went to Pierpont's for lunch. What a treat! I had the Blue Crab Sweet Corn Bisque and the Walnut Pear Salad. Unfortunately, I was having lunch w/ a friend that just got laid off, so that sucked. But the food was good. And the prices weren't bad for lunch. Dinner's probably another story.
*Not her real name. Yeah...duh.
SCG UPDATE: It appears that they pay the Sonic Cup Guys $200 a month to drive around with the cups attached to their trunks. Where can I sign up???
Thursday, September 28, 2006
The Guy With The Sonic Cup
I was driving to work yesterday, and I got behind a guy in a small 4-door car. As we stopped at a red light, I noticed that he had one of those giant Sonic drink cups perched on the left side of his trunk. "Whoa!" I thought, "when he starts moving, that cup's going to go flying. I better hang back so I don't get Cherry Limeade all over my Jetta!"
Well, he started moving again, and the cup didn't move. My eyes were glued to this damn cup as we traveled down a major road, periodically stopping at stoplights. How was this cup staying in place?
If there was nothing in the cup, it would have just blown away. It was a windy day. If the cup was full, it would have tipped at the first stoplight. Hell, it wouldn't have made it out of the Sonic parking lot. I pondered where a Sonic was, in relation to where I first saw the guy. And that darn cup.
Then I noticed that the cup wasn't exactly sitting directly on the trunk...you could see a sliver of light under it. Did this guy glue the cup to his trunk? Why?!?! Why would you do this? Did he want to see how many people would honk at point at the darn cup, thinking he had forgotten it sitting on his trunk? And, while we are obsessing, who puts a drink on their trunk? I always put mine on my roof. So why the trunk? WHY?!?!?
I started analyzing the guy in the car. He looked like an older guy, maybe 50-ish, stocky. Not really a jokester, by the looks of him. Well, the looks of the back of his head, at least.
So, I finally have to make a turn to go to my office, and I got the chance to pull up alongside the guy. He was a delivery driver, according to the sign stuck on the driver's side door of his car. He didn't make eye contact, didn't point at the cup, as in "you like my cup, do you?". Nothing.
Has anyone seen this? Is this like those novelty half-golf balls that you can stick on your car windshield, like someone teed off into your car? Or was this guy just a bored delivery driver, looking for attention? Or do I just obsess about the goofiest things? Er, don't answer that last one.
Well, he started moving again, and the cup didn't move. My eyes were glued to this damn cup as we traveled down a major road, periodically stopping at stoplights. How was this cup staying in place?
If there was nothing in the cup, it would have just blown away. It was a windy day. If the cup was full, it would have tipped at the first stoplight. Hell, it wouldn't have made it out of the Sonic parking lot. I pondered where a Sonic was, in relation to where I first saw the guy. And that darn cup.
Yes, I really kind of obsessed about this.
Then I noticed that the cup wasn't exactly sitting directly on the trunk...you could see a sliver of light under it. Did this guy glue the cup to his trunk? Why?!?! Why would you do this? Did he want to see how many people would honk at point at the darn cup, thinking he had forgotten it sitting on his trunk? And, while we are obsessing, who puts a drink on their trunk? I always put mine on my roof. So why the trunk? WHY?!?!?
I started analyzing the guy in the car. He looked like an older guy, maybe 50-ish, stocky. Not really a jokester, by the looks of him. Well, the looks of the back of his head, at least.
So, I finally have to make a turn to go to my office, and I got the chance to pull up alongside the guy. He was a delivery driver, according to the sign stuck on the driver's side door of his car. He didn't make eye contact, didn't point at the cup, as in "you like my cup, do you?". Nothing.
Has anyone seen this? Is this like those novelty half-golf balls that you can stick on your car windshield, like someone teed off into your car? Or was this guy just a bored delivery driver, looking for attention? Or do I just obsess about the goofiest things? Er, don't answer that last one.
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
Back to My Back
The fourteen days of anti-inflammatories are over and guess what? Say it with me! Nothing. Nada. Zippo. Bupkiss. Dorothy and lorib called it right...I should have gone directly to epidural steroid shot. Do not pass Go, do not collect $200. And Monkey McWearingChaps sent me some good information about Pain Management and Rehabilitation. But did I listen? Well, no. Goofy me.
So now I'm back where I started (Er, no pun intended). Half of me wants to just Live With It. Just freaking ignore it. Suck it up, sister. Life is hard and the pain will make you stronger. Right?
The ortho doc said that it COULD just go away on its own. The very key word there being COULD. It could also get bad enough that I couldn't do all my Goofy things. Yikes! What would I do then? I'd go mad sitting around with nothing to do. Eek!
The super-medical terminology for what's ailing me is: a small left lateral lumbar disc protrusion, with mild stenosis of the central spinal canal. I'm still researching this on the trusty Internet. There's some confusion (mine, mostly) about whether protrusion = herniation. There's also mention in my MRI report of disc dessiccation, which sounds a little to close to disc desecration. Or disc disintegration. Or how about disc discrimation? Try saying that one a few times fast.
What's funny is that I'm really too busy to deal with this now. I could (and should) call my original chiropractor - the one that healed/cured/performed a miracle on my herniated cervical disc several years ago. My hesitation in doing this is that he is a full HOUR'S drive away from anywhere that I might be on a given day.
So, in conclusion...there is no conclusion. The back issue is still in the back of my mind.
p.s. And, faithful readers, it really bothers me to have such a 'downer' post. I'll see what I can do about that!
So now I'm back where I started (Er, no pun intended). Half of me wants to just Live With It. Just freaking ignore it. Suck it up, sister. Life is hard and the pain will make you stronger. Right?
The ortho doc said that it COULD just go away on its own. The very key word there being COULD. It could also get bad enough that I couldn't do all my Goofy things. Yikes! What would I do then? I'd go mad sitting around with nothing to do. Eek!
The super-medical terminology for what's ailing me is: a small left lateral lumbar disc protrusion, with mild stenosis of the central spinal canal. I'm still researching this on the trusty Internet. There's some confusion (mine, mostly) about whether protrusion = herniation. There's also mention in my MRI report of disc dessiccation, which sounds a little to close to disc desecration. Or disc disintegration. Or how about disc discrimation? Try saying that one a few times fast.
What's funny is that I'm really too busy to deal with this now. I could (and should) call my original chiropractor - the one that healed/cured/performed a miracle on my herniated cervical disc several years ago. My hesitation in doing this is that he is a full HOUR'S drive away from anywhere that I might be on a given day.
So, in conclusion...there is no conclusion. The back issue is still in the back of my mind.
p.s. And, faithful readers, it really bothers me to have such a 'downer' post. I'll see what I can do about that!
Friday, September 15, 2006
Random Friday Junk
House for Sale
During our 20-mile Wyoming backpack adventure, Mr. Goofy & I had lots of time to talk (something we don't normally have with our 3-1/2 year old son around). We decided that we would sell our house in spring and move to a somewhat larger house.
So when we got back, we headed out the next day to look at houses. That is the Goofy Way. And...we found one! As karma/luck/universal kindness would have it, we got back from Yellowstone, Wyoming and promptly found a house we loved, named "The Yellowstone". Freaky, huh?
So we sat down and composed a list of things we need to do to our 15 year old house in order to sell it. The list is long...I had to shorten the top and bottom margins in Word to get it on 1 page!
So we have started painting, landscaping, trimming trees, cleaning and fixing. Goofy Junior thinks it's exciting that we have so many "projects" for him to be involved in. Gah!
Roof
We are getting a new roof. This spring, lots of hail descended upon Kansas City, and our roof finally raised the white flag of surrender. It has had hail hitting it virtually every spring for 15 years. We finally decided to call the insurance company and have them check it. And the result is... new roof!
This is very cool, except for the timing. Mr. Goofy is out of town this weekend, so I took Friday afternoon off to (say it with me..) do more house projects. As well as have some alone time before the Weekend-as-Goofy-Junior's-Sole-Parent. As luck would have it, the roofers decided that today (the Friday I mentioned above) would be a dandy day to start their work.
I came home around 1:30pm to three Mexican dudes on my roof, banging away. And a dumpster in my driveway. In the MIDDLE of my driveway, so there will be no garage parking for me this weekend. And roof droppings all over the front yard, back yard, and in the trees. Basically everywhere. Oh yeah, and all the pounding on the roof shook 15 years' worth of crap from our ceiling onto our floors, furniture, etc. INSIDE.
And can we talk for a minute about traumatized dogs that I came home to. They were like, "Dude, there are these noisy monsters on our roof! We tried to bite them, but they are way up there! And they keep dropping this white ceiling dust on our heads. Help us."
Fortunately, they tend to finish this roof stuff quick (we are not the only ones in our neighborhood having this done), so I think they will be out of my hair by Saturday afternoon.
Boondoggle
It's been over 5 years since a company has sent me to any sort of formal training. Well, any training outside of Kansas City, that is. You know? A boondoggle. Someplace fun that you travel to, learn some stuff, go drink with people of like mind. Fun stuff, man.
Anyway...I'm going on a conference! To Orlando! In November! Yee-ha! Plus the subject matter is something that is pretty good stuff for the work I do (but probably boring to 90% of the population).
I am trying to convince Mr. Goofy to come down mid-week and bring Goofy Junior. GJ is always talking about "the beach" and "the ocean" although he's never seen one (outside of a book that is). Being the Purveyor of Cool Experiences that I am, I think he needs to go see a real ocean.
And yes, I realize that Orlando is inland. But it's a hell of a lot closer to salt water than Kansas!
So that's what's on my mind this Friday. Stay tuned for more Goofy thoughts!
During our 20-mile Wyoming backpack adventure, Mr. Goofy & I had lots of time to talk (something we don't normally have with our 3-1/2 year old son around). We decided that we would sell our house in spring and move to a somewhat larger house.
So when we got back, we headed out the next day to look at houses. That is the Goofy Way. And...we found one! As karma/luck/universal kindness would have it, we got back from Yellowstone, Wyoming and promptly found a house we loved, named "The Yellowstone". Freaky, huh?
So we sat down and composed a list of things we need to do to our 15 year old house in order to sell it. The list is long...I had to shorten the top and bottom margins in Word to get it on 1 page!
So we have started painting, landscaping, trimming trees, cleaning and fixing. Goofy Junior thinks it's exciting that we have so many "projects" for him to be involved in. Gah!
Roof
We are getting a new roof. This spring, lots of hail descended upon Kansas City, and our roof finally raised the white flag of surrender. It has had hail hitting it virtually every spring for 15 years. We finally decided to call the insurance company and have them check it. And the result is... new roof!
This is very cool, except for the timing. Mr. Goofy is out of town this weekend, so I took Friday afternoon off to (say it with me..) do more house projects. As well as have some alone time before the Weekend-as-Goofy-Junior's-Sole-Parent. As luck would have it, the roofers decided that today (the Friday I mentioned above) would be a dandy day to start their work.
I came home around 1:30pm to three Mexican dudes on my roof, banging away. And a dumpster in my driveway. In the MIDDLE of my driveway, so there will be no garage parking for me this weekend. And roof droppings all over the front yard, back yard, and in the trees. Basically everywhere. Oh yeah, and all the pounding on the roof shook 15 years' worth of crap from our ceiling onto our floors, furniture, etc. INSIDE.
And can we talk for a minute about traumatized dogs that I came home to. They were like, "Dude, there are these noisy monsters on our roof! We tried to bite them, but they are way up there! And they keep dropping this white ceiling dust on our heads. Help us."
Fortunately, they tend to finish this roof stuff quick (we are not the only ones in our neighborhood having this done), so I think they will be out of my hair by Saturday afternoon.
Boondoggle
It's been over 5 years since a company has sent me to any sort of formal training. Well, any training outside of Kansas City, that is. You know? A boondoggle. Someplace fun that you travel to, learn some stuff, go drink with people of like mind. Fun stuff, man.
Anyway...I'm going on a conference! To Orlando! In November! Yee-ha! Plus the subject matter is something that is pretty good stuff for the work I do (but probably boring to 90% of the population).
I am trying to convince Mr. Goofy to come down mid-week and bring Goofy Junior. GJ is always talking about "the beach" and "the ocean" although he's never seen one (outside of a book that is). Being the Purveyor of Cool Experiences that I am, I think he needs to go see a real ocean.
And yes, I realize that Orlando is inland. But it's a hell of a lot closer to salt water than Kansas!
So that's what's on my mind this Friday. Stay tuned for more Goofy thoughts!
Thursday, September 07, 2006
No Giant Death Tumors! Yippee!
Actually, my prognosis is pretty boring: I have an abnormality of the disc between the L5 and S1 vertabraes. That would be "L" for Lumbar and "S" for Sacrum (Take that, Sue Grafton!). The disc is the spongy stuff between your vertabraes that keeps them from grinding together. I heard the analogy once that your vertabraes are like the cookies in the Oreo cookie, and the disc is the "stuff". This analogy just makes me hungry.
So what does all this mean? Good question! Unfortunately, it means alot of the same ole, same ole...
Here's how the doctor conversation went...
Anti-inflammatories:
Me: I already tried those. They didn't help. They actually made it worse.
Doc: Well, I find that hard to believe. I can see them not helping, but I doubt they made it worse.
Me: (did that bitch just call me a liar!?) Well, they didn't help.*
Doc: Which ones did you take?
Me: Er.....it started with "N". Naaaaaaaaa-something. (Duh)
Doc: Naproxen? NaproseelyMcweely?
Me: Um, yeah. That first one. (whatever, bitch. Gimme the good ones)
Doc: Hmmmm....Let's try Celebrex. That one has a really good track record with cases like this.
Me: (Dammit, now I've got that stupid Celebrex song in my head...Cel-e-brate...Cel-e-brate...ARG!) Okay, sure.
Doc: Now try these for fourteen days. You will know whether they work or not after that. It will be obvious.
Me: Okay.
Physical Therapy:
Doc: If those don't do the trick, we will do some physical therapy.
Me: I already did that.
Doc: Well. (kinda ignoring me) Let's try it again.
Me: (Hey, did that bitch just ignore me? Whatever. I guess he's the "expert" here. I'll just nod and act interested). Um, okay. (also thinking...my benefit limit for physical therapy bit the dust about two months ago...this could get expensive)
Doc: (babbles on about physical therapy)
Epidural Steroids:
Doc: If all that doesn't help, we can move on to epidural steroids.
Me: Are those like cortisone shots? (me showing my clever Google research skills. Ha!)
Doc: Sort of. Have you had kids?
Me: No. (I HAVE a kid, but I've never HAD a kid, but didn't feel compelled to elaborate on this)
Doc: Er, well, it's an epidural, like when you go into labor, but instead of painkillers, it's steroids, which can help the disc heal.
Me: (Hell-oooooo? Did you hear me? NO LABOR. Wouldn't know an epidural if it poked me in the ass. That is where they put it, right???) Er. Okay.
At this point, I'm thinking, "Just shoot me in the ass, back, neck, wherever you need to with the epidural goo, 'cause I've already tried the drugs, I've already tried the therapy, and it's not working. I don't see how trying this all again (with the associated expense) will help."
But, hey, I'm a trooper. I'll go along with the plan and see what happens. Meanwhile, know that I know in certain terms what is wrong, I'm off to Google to do some research. Much to Cagey's dismay, I fear. Whee!
*Mr. Goofy later reminded me about how the anti-inflammatories gave me anxiety attacks. I had forgotten that fun side effect!
So what does all this mean? Good question! Unfortunately, it means alot of the same ole, same ole...
Here's how the doctor conversation went...
Anti-inflammatories:
Me: I already tried those. They didn't help. They actually made it worse.
Doc: Well, I find that hard to believe. I can see them not helping, but I doubt they made it worse.
Me: (did that bitch just call me a liar!?) Well, they didn't help.*
Doc: Which ones did you take?
Me: Er.....it started with "N". Naaaaaaaaa-something. (Duh)
Doc: Naproxen? NaproseelyMcweely?
Me: Um, yeah. That first one. (whatever, bitch. Gimme the good ones)
Doc: Hmmmm....Let's try Celebrex. That one has a really good track record with cases like this.
Me: (Dammit, now I've got that stupid Celebrex song in my head...Cel-e-brate...Cel-e-brate...ARG!) Okay, sure.
Doc: Now try these for fourteen days. You will know whether they work or not after that. It will be obvious.
Me: Okay.
Physical Therapy:
Doc: If those don't do the trick, we will do some physical therapy.
Me: I already did that.
Doc: Well. (kinda ignoring me) Let's try it again.
Me: (Hey, did that bitch just ignore me? Whatever. I guess he's the "expert" here. I'll just nod and act interested). Um, okay. (also thinking...my benefit limit for physical therapy bit the dust about two months ago...this could get expensive)
Doc: (babbles on about physical therapy)
Epidural Steroids:
Doc: If all that doesn't help, we can move on to epidural steroids.
Me: Are those like cortisone shots? (me showing my clever Google research skills. Ha!)
Doc: Sort of. Have you had kids?
Me: No. (I HAVE a kid, but I've never HAD a kid, but didn't feel compelled to elaborate on this)
Doc: Er, well, it's an epidural, like when you go into labor, but instead of painkillers, it's steroids, which can help the disc heal.
Me: (Hell-oooooo? Did you hear me? NO LABOR. Wouldn't know an epidural if it poked me in the ass. That is where they put it, right???) Er. Okay.
At this point, I'm thinking, "Just shoot me in the ass, back, neck, wherever you need to with the epidural goo, 'cause I've already tried the drugs, I've already tried the therapy, and it's not working. I don't see how trying this all again (with the associated expense) will help."
But, hey, I'm a trooper. I'll go along with the plan and see what happens. Meanwhile, know that I know in certain terms what is wrong, I'm off to Google to do some research. Much to Cagey's dismay, I fear. Whee!
*Mr. Goofy later reminded me about how the anti-inflammatories gave me anxiety attacks. I had forgotten that fun side effect!
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