Just Another Day

So my computer is currently being wiped as my darling Hubba-hubba managed to pick up an extremely virulent virus. (do those two words automatically go together or does that sound stupid?) I am currently on my sister's computer, as I had to bring mine to her house so that my techie BIL can do his voodoo on it. So, blogging will be down for a while, since we are leaving for vacation on Saturday and I have no idea if it will be fixed tomorrow or next week. Have a great long weekend, and hopefully I will be back online soon.

So the semi-retiring (sniff sniff) Cuppa has successfully passed this baton to me, and I am honored to post it. 01. Total volume of music files on my computer? You see, that is what my tech-head brother in law is for. He downloads all the music I want and then does everything for me. As a result, I have no files on mine, but he's got a whole lot on his. He has waaaay more memory than me anyway, so I feel justified. 02. The last CD I bought was? That would have to be Franz Ferdinand . I really liked "Take Me Out" so I went ahead and bought the CD. My BIL claims I am a fool for buying music, but I am old-fashioned that way. 03. Song playing right now. "How Soon is Now" Morrissey. It is on a radio station, but it is a very good radio station. Morrissey is one of Hubba-hubba's favorite artists. 04. Five songs I listen to a lot or that mean a lot to me (in no particular order) "Something About You" Level 42 . This is our official song. It is cat

So my aunt, with whom we are staying next week, asked me what kind of alcohol Hubba-hubba and I want to drink. I was somehwat taken aback, as neither of us drink that much and I wondered what kind of partying she was thinking we were going to do when the kiddos went to bed. I should specify that Hubba-hubba actually used to drink quite a bit. He comes from a long and storied line of alcoholics on his father's side. When we were first starting to get to know each other, Hubba-hubba wasn't complete unless he was clutching a 40 ouncer. Hence one of the reasons I didn't like him much in the beginning. I am a bit of a goody-goody and always have been. I have never, ever smoked a joint or a cigarette. Back when I was 22 or so, my friends and I would go clubbing or bar-hopping, and I would have about 2 or 3 drinks the entire night. I have never prayed to the porcelain god due to over-imbibing, and I have never had a hangover. From what I can tell, that is probably a good t

So for most of my life, I have had a best friend. It was usually always just one particular friend, with us being joined at the hip. Oh, I would have other friends, but the BF and I were well known for our exclusivity. In early grade school, it was Michelle. I would sleep over at her house, and strangely I remember us singing an a capella rendition of "Silver Bells" to anyone who was kind enough to listen. I don't think it was only at Christmas time, either, we worked on it very hard and considered ourselves to be a perfect duet. Then Michelle moved away, and being as we were only in fourth grade, intentions to write each other for ever and ever pretty much never materialized. I always wonder what happened to her. Then in the remaining years of grade school, it was Elizabeth. Our shared crushes on members of Duran Duran were the foundation of our friendship. We would create extremely detailed fantasies in which both of us somehow met our respective objects of affe

So next week, Hubba-hubba, Mr. Personality and myself will bundle ourselves into our car and head off for Arizona. We are planning on leaving on Saturday evening, for three reasons. First, because to leave on Friday night would most likely mean sitting on the parking lot that would be the 10 Freeway for hours before we even reached a quarter of the way. Second, because why the heck would I want a wide-awake 2 1/2 year old alone in the back seat during the day for a six hour drive. And no, I am not a good enough mother to sit with him back there for the duration of the trip. His seat is in the center, and it is mighty cramped seating on either side. With my back in its current shaky situation, I'm not even going to chance it. Third, my adorable son is known for getting motion sickness and vomiting in the car. Having little light for the first part of the trip, and then asleep for the remainder will hopefully avoid that rather annoying problem. Oh, don't think I know that

So I had signed up Mr. Personality for an art class. Monday was the first day of class, and he was very excited about "painting with the paintbwush." The instructor of the class is a woman who speaks to the children in an almost squeakingly high, overly sweet voice. Every sentence is punctuated with an exclamation mark ! of enthusiasm. That voice grates on my nerves. She seems like a nice person, and she may talk that way all the time, for all I know. But it is a little disturbing to me when she goes over to the children holding a rather scary looking bear puppet saying in her sing-song voice, "Now who wants a hug from Mr. Huggy Bear!?" I almost applauded the children who looked at her, then back at the bear, and refused. "Oh, that's ok, we understand when people don't want hugs!" Unfortunately, Mr. Personality was game, and gave Mr. Huggy Bear a huge hug that he would never give me in a million years. That is him in a nutshell. Mangy looki

So my sister and I have had the enviable task of scouting out lavish and expensive brunches for my parents anniversary party. The only rule has been that it be a hotel brunch, for the key part of our plan lies in whisking them away in a limo to whatever hotel we have chosen for the night. Then, after they are up in the morning, 25 or so of their closest friends will be down in the lobby to meet them for brunch. Good idea, huh? Of course, it was mine. We have narrowed it down to two very distinct brunches, each with their own pluses and minuses. The hotels themselves are fairly equal, being actually situated in the same city within a mile of each other. The price, with alcohol included, is the same. Both have ocean views, both would be held outside. Brunch #1 comes with a small window of availability- only from 8am to 12. Part of us knows that no one is going to want to show up for this thing at 9am, my parents included. Besides, no good party has ever been held really early in

I was graciously invited to use the beta version of Gmail (from Google) by Mel . I really like a lot of the features, and I am not trying to complain. But, one of the drawbacks about it is that apparently they use filters or something to scan your text for key words, and then place ads accordingly. On some recent comments on my blog, (which automatically get sent to my Gmail account) these ads appeared. I copied and pasted them, so they are verbatim. Text: Aren't you guys the best? Ads: Modeling - Male Models Opportunity for all ages available now thru top agencies nationwide! www.fashionrock.com Goth Love Goth cuties found here. Set up a free profile with pics. www.eSpinTheBottle.com Gothic guys Browse thousands of guys for free. Meet a guy now. www.Find-Men.com Now where in the world did they get the "Goth" thing from? That's what I'd like to know. Then, on another comment sent to me from Cuppa , the following. Text: Goodness! I do the same thing. I talk ra

So now that the weather is warmer, I have to leave my very large sliding glass window open at night. It is not nearly hot enough for the air conditioner, which I can't stand anyway. But, some fresh air flow is needed and so I leave it open about 6 or 7 inches. We live on a cliff, essentially, overlooking a large park. This park has a lovely little stream, and in the spring and summer, I am serenaded to sleep by the sounds of dozens of frogs who I am assuming live along the stream. The chirping of the frogs is particularly soothing and peaceful in a quintessentially froggy sort of way, and usually I fall gently asleep. Then the next thing I hear is BWWRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR BWRRRRR BWRRRRR BWRRRRR BWRRRRR . This is usually about 530am, and this particular bird begins its extremely loud sun salutation without fail every morning. Typed words on a page cannot possibly convey the loud, piercing quality of the sound this bird makes. It repeats its call exactly the same way- one

So I just got done writing the draft of what was the most boring post ever. Luckily for you, I regained my senses after almost being lulled to sleep by writing it and deleted it. Dontcha just hate it when that happens? You start with what you think is a pretty good premise, you've got a couple of good points in mind, and blammo. The thing just kind of self implodes despite your best efforts, and you sit staring at the computer blankly wondering what the heck you are going to write now. You see that you have long run-on sentences that make little to no sense. That is when I know I am in trouble, when my sentences go on and on for days with no apparent end in sight. It should have been good, it was about concerts and live music performances as well as oh-so-interesting tidbits about my musical taste. But alas, the instruction manual for the Bob the Builder Construction Site I set up today was more entertaining. So I will leave you with these much more fun snippets from our pott

So Hubba-hubba, Mr. Personality, and I were eating at a restaurant the other week. With the meal came some complimentary ice cream. Now, I have never been known to say no to spumoni, so I happily began spooning. But then, out of the corner of my eye, I caught a disapproving stare from a fellow restaurant patron. I felt myself become squashed, it began to become darker, and suddenly, the darkness was complete. I was helpless. I was boxed. The person at the other table had obviously judged me as someone who needed to ease up a bit on the ice cream intake, and where in the world was her self control? Couldn't she just say no? Obviously, no is not a word that she applies to food very often. And what about that child, he looks ok now, but certainly he is doomed to a life of weight problems judging by the obvious relish with which Mom is eating that stuff. What is it about us that feels so comfortable about putting people into neat little categories, slamming the lid shut, and fil

So I read this article the other day, and for some reason, it really struck a chord with me. Now, I actually view myself as a fairly liberal person, with a few streaks of conservatism thrown in just for fun. One of those points of conservatism happens to be concern with big bad media. And when I say media, I mean all types. From computers to magazines to television to the bags that clothing stores put your clothes in for you to tote home. I can honestly say that before my son was born, I saw media as fairly harmless and something that was just an annoying obstruction to finishing the latest episode of Seinfeld. But as I became a paranoid parent, I began seeing media bugaboos practically everywhere. Obviously, violent tv, porn, and video games are easy targets. Then came half-naked, or in one store's case, all-naked models in clothing catalogues. How about provocative billboards on the freeway for "gentlemen's clubs?" Some of this is done under the dubious guise

So my mother and I have an interesting relationship. She has never been a very demonstrative mother, and that used to be a big problem for me. Now I just realize that is how she is, and I don't really take it personally. With the birth of Mr. Personality (which she was present for) we were able to take it to a bit of a different level. She has so far had a very interesting life. She was born in Germany. She was the daughter of two immigrants from Germany who spoke barely enough English to get by when they arrived in the United States a little bit after WWII. She got pregnant at age 18 and had a bit of a shotgun wedding to my father, who was also 18. They will celebrate 40 years of marriage this August. She was, and is technically still, a registered nurse who spent the majority of her working life helping gravely ill people. She was an ICU nurse for years, and also worked at a nationally known burn center participating in the treatment of severe burn victims. I am sure some o

So can I just say that I have been hit quite hard by the "baby" virus? Quite the few of my friends are pregnant or have recently had a baby. It seems that I cannot turn my head without seeing the cute little baldish head of a newborn somewhere. Both Hubba-hubba and I would very much like another child, but the timing just doesn't seem right. We are stuck in this townhouse for now, and the need for more space and a yard would just seem that much more pressing and depressingly unobtainable. But doesn't everyone say that people will just keep coming up with excuses as to why they shouldn't have another child just yet? That there really is no "right" time? Can I wait out the virus or has it taken a firm hold? We'll have to see...

From the desk of Mr. Personality So, I have judged this week's campaign entitled, "Parental Frustration via Toilet Training" to be a huge success. I love to see their faces when I burst into the room at 630am, demanding to "go pee pee on the potty!" The look of resignation that they realize they must get out of bed NOW in order not to jepoardize the toilet learning process is simply priceless. Even better is my insistence upon dropping toilet paper down into the bowl in order to activate the music that is my piddling (ha ha) "reward." I am sure Mom thought that the music would motivate me, but little did she know it would be for the wrong reasons! It just kills me when she tears off tiny square after tiny square of toilet paper just to appease me so as not to spoil my enthusiasm about the potty! Sometimes I make a bet with myself to see how many times she will let me drop them before she gets mad. Here I thought strewing all the unfolded laundry o

It doesn't hurt that on Lost , quite the few men are some good eye candy. But I really watch it for the plot. Really! Mr. Personality is using the potty approximately 3 times a day. We start out great in the morning, and then by afternoon we just completely lose it. I keep telling myself that I am just going to go with the flow. (No pun intended) I found a place where I can buy a bunch of approximately 15 ranunculus (or is it ranunculi?) for a buck. You can hardly buy anything good for a buck anymore! And no, I'm not telling where. So then would the plural of Lexus be "a parking lot full of Lexi?" A little known fact about Hubba-hubba is that almost every day he comes up with a new plan to make us fabulously wealthy. It almost always has something to do with a hot dog cart, but I won't bore you with the details. Ok, so at first I thought it was cool to have a nesting dove and her two fledglings above our patio. But now that they are pooping all over it, I

So yesterday I had a lovely breather. I got to go out (gasp) by myself and go out to lunch with two dear friends. It helps that they don't have kids or husbands at this point, so I can for just a little while fool myself that I have left my darling men figuratively (not just literally) behind me for a few hours. One of my friends is about to be married in October. Their honeymoon is three weeks Down Under, and I told her I was completely jealous and wanted to live vicariously through her. My other friend just got an exciting new job, and is also pursuing her MBA. Their lives seem so much more exciting than mine, and I sit and drink in their less-tethered-than-mine existence. Not to say that I would trade what I have for the world, it is just nice to think back to the days when I could sit and read the paper without a tiny being doing the "pajama-jam dance" to vie for my attention. Of course, we would have to have the booth behind us occupied by a couple who in our o