Just Another Day

I am a woman who... ...every time she thinks she is caught up on housework, has something happen like all of us getting sick and it is back to square one. ...wonders where the time always goes. Even as she fritters it away on the computer. ...needs to get her butt to the gym. It's a little bigger than it shoud be. ...has discovered that the best time to get her blood taken is late on Saturday night. In and out in less than six minutes! There is some advantage in having no life after all! ...went to a birthday party this weekend and wondered who would spend twenty bucks on gift bags for the attendees. Ouch! ...secretly thought her party was better. Even though there were no expensive gift bags. ...keeps saying she is going to go to church but never does. Excuses, excuses. ...wonders when she will stop breaking out, for god's sake. Isn't it time yet? ...has decided to leave the Democratic party and become an Independent. Because then everyone will try to court my vote, a

What was the most favorite Halloween costume you ever had? *And, the server crashed for two whole days over at Teeny Manolo , but it's back up!

There is a fly in my house. And I am pissed. You see, I hate flies. I can do nothing but cringe whenever I think of where this fly might have been. Was it sitting on a dead carcass? On crap? Oh fabulous, and now it's on my kitchen table. I am going to have to go to bed soon. And it is going to torture me, knowing that this fly is in my house, landing on things I don't know about while I am asleep. I tried to kill it about five times, each time missing by thismuch . Hubba-hubba attempted to lecture me on the physics of proper fly killing, and I almost whacked him with the rolled up magazine. I am probably going to have dreams about contaminated things and buzzing noises. Which is much worse than the dream I had last night, where I was a patient on ER, and George Clooney was my doctor. It was great until Hubba-hubba woke me up by brushing his teeth, which is just the wrong way to get woken up, if you ask me. I am weird, I know that. And that's why you like me so much

At the party on Sunday, Hubba-hubba's father walked up to him, placed an envelope in his hand, and told him, "This is for you. You deserve it" and walked away. Inside was a check for a not insubstantial amount of money. We are thinking of giving it back. You see, if we had an open and good relationship with his parents, I would only hesitate a bit to cash that check. It isn't like we can't use it, and if we felt it was given in a purely altruistic manner, I wouldn't be writing this post. Hubba-hubba and I have had a rocky relationship with his parents from the beginning , and it wasn't necessarily all because of me . I certainly pointed out some salient facts, but Hubba-hubba is a big boy and makes his own decisions. Therefore, we have had little contact with them since our marriage, and actually even less since the birth of Mr. P. About seven months ago, my MIL called me and said she wanted to see Mr. P and get to know him, and what could she do to h

I think that with this party yesterday, I may have turned into one of those parents. At the very least, I am anal-retentive and am fearful that no one will have fun at my parties unless I go all out. The first shift was comprised of quite a few children from Mr. P's class, and I was determined that if I was going to make them drive a half hour to come to the party, then dammnit, they were going to have a good time! Even if it killed me! The last thing I would ever want was for someone to walk out of the party and say to themselves, "Well, that was three hours of my life that I can never get back." I can't be the only one to feel that way, right? So I had a pirate ship bouncer (worth it's weight in doubloons, I tell you), crafting pirate necklaces and treasure maps, pirate tattoos, a pinata, a cupcake cake, walking the plank, and the biggest hit of all, digging for buried treasure. Now, that was probably the activity that was easiest to execute on our part, a

Dude, the fish died this morning. Maybe he was just sick of getting new names, the last one being "Watermelon" because, duh, he lives in the water, mom! And, tomorrow is Mr. P's birthday party, which will have almost fifty guests, albeit in two shifts. Can you believe it? I needed two shifts to have room for everyone! Ack! But hey, it's at my sister's house, so it's actually not all that bad of a deal for me. So, I probably won't be able to post on Sunday night due to sheer exhaustion and probably too much sugar. Oh, and no little one on the way. Not this time, anyway.

Do you need to sleep on your own pillow, or will any old pillow do?

Dear Mom and Dad, Well, I'm still here and I don't think I'm going anywhere anytime soon. I mean, the lady went ahead and transferred me from the tiny box I got brought here in to this deluxe penthouse. I mean, it is swanky with a capital S. I've got two plants, one of which even glows in the dark! It creeped me out a little at first, but I'm getting used to it. But I've got this nice blue gravel and a filter and a pirate skull that has places to hide. And it's rent free! The little one has named me probably fifty different names. First I was "Fish" and then "Fishy" and then "Captain Hook," followed by "Captain Crook." Really, that kid has some nerve. I've never stolen anything! But finally they seem to have arrived at "Brainster." Why, I'm really not sure, but I can live with it. I'm getting used to them coming into the room, and I no longer think they are going to eat me. The kid has be

I never thought a Democrat, much less the Speaker of the House, would vote for a re-authorization of the disastrous No Child Left Behind Act. But guess what? Speaker Pelosi is co-author of a bill that would do just that. And, not only re-authorize it, but MAKE IT WORSE. Somehow, I didn't think it could be made worse, but after reading California Teachers Association website, I am scared. Scared of the Democrats who are going to cave under pressure to be "tough on education" in an election year. Listen, my sister is a teacher, so perhaps I am a bit biased. But she has a Master's in Education, and works for a school district in which 95% of the student body are native Spanish speakers/Limited English Proficiency, where 99% of the students qualify for the federal lunch program, and where gangs and violence are prevalent in the community. One of her students is currently homeless and living in a shelter, and he is gifted as well. But yet, this new-and-unimproved vers

All right, so I spent a fair amount of money today on a creature that may or may not die any instant. If this fish goes, I'm getting a betta. So either way, I'm good. The parking lot at Mr. P's preschool is quite small, and there are only three rows in which to park your car. One double row, and then another row facing the edge of the property. Anyhoo, there are clearly marked arrows that point you to go around the lot in a big circle. Cutting through from the entrance is a supposed no-no. Mr. P used to take the afternoon class, and the parking lot was always fairly deserted. But now that he goes in the morning, I have come to experience the zoo that is morning drop-off. Luckily for me, I am usually early, so I don't have to compete with big SUV's for space. But today we got there a tiny bit later than usual, and the parking lot was nearly full. I had made the half-loop around the lot, and as I was first in line, was eyeing a particular spot. Who should come

Today was our local church's fiesta, or carnival for all you gringos out there. And we are now the uh, proud owners of a goldfish. The most annoying part of this is that Mr. P did not actually get the ping pong ball into the little bowl. Oh no. We gave three attempts (at four balls each) and it was a no go. Then, the lady helping us said, "Oh, how many times have you paid to do this?" We replied "Three," not knowing what would happen next. "Well" she said, you are in luck because today if you try three times you get the fish no matter what!" She said this in a great tone of delight, like I was supposed to jump up and down like it was Christmas. Well, that was Mr. P's job, actually. And how in the world can I say, no, we didn't really want it without some sort of meltdown from the boy who thinks he is going to get a fish? So, we've got a fish. I researched a bunch of sites that said things like, for each goldfish you must have ten

When the dishwasher has room for about four or five more things, (such as cups) do you go ahead and start it, or wait as long as it takes for it to fill completely before running it? P.S. Postcard people, we went to Disneyland today and I have the postcards in hand!

I can hardly wait until fall television starts again. Well, maybe not because I think there may not be enough hours in the day to do what I need to do and still watch Grey's, Ugly Betty, Men in Trees, Brothers and Sisters and whatever other shows I happen to get hooked on. It used to be that only a few years ago, I didn't watch much TV at all. I read books and magazines, I chatted on the phone with friends and loved ones. TV was pushed somewhere back between loading the dishwasher and making the bed. But as I become older, I am finding that I like TV more than I ever did, except perhaps when I was 6 and watched cartoons constantly. I don't know what I would have done with myself if there had been something like The Cartoon Network or Nickelodeon on when I was young. I may not have finished school. I'm thinking we should invest in a DVR. However, I have heard horror stories about the DVR holding hours and hours of shows that can never be watched in time, and the own

So we've been having issues with Junior Kindergarten. Well, Mr. P has been having issues, that is. For the second day in two weeks, he used the "my tummy hurts" excuse to not go. This morning, I told him that he could either go to the doctor, since this was not the first time he had complained, or he could go to school. He chose the doctor. He must really dislike school. Of course the doctor could find nothing because there was nothing. And I told him that since the doctor hadn't found anything wrong, he could no longer use that excuse to get out of going to school. Or any other vague excuse, for that matter. I told him I was disappointed that he hadn't been telling the truth, and that he should know that he can always talk to me. Yeah, yeah. It was a flash preview of the teenager I will be dealing with before I know it. I suspect he is having difficulty adjusting to quite a few things. The first being that he is just not used to going to school every day.

Cranky, flabby, bloaty. I am feeling like all sorts of words that end in Y lately. I can't seem to get enough sleep, even with over ten hours a day. Which signals to me either two things. 1. My thyroid levels are off again. A blood test is scheduled for this week, so actually that is good timing. 2. I am pregnant. The possibility of either of these being the case is highly likely. One is not more probable than the other, which is making me irritable. One also precludes the other, so we will see. My commenting is suffering, I know. I will be around soon, I have been trying different things to fall into a groove of posting in both places. So far with all the draggy, I haven't been too successful. So hopefully we can get to the bottom of all this soon, and I can feel like words that end in Y, but ones like "happy" and "energy." And, a cupcake controversy over there.

Welcome to the You-thought-I-forgot-about-you Edition of Pointless Points Trivia, where the points don't matter! That's right, just like my attempts to like football, they just don't matter! However, I know there are quite a few football fans out there, so even if I try to ignore the sport, there is no way to avoid it. That's ok, it just means Sunday mornings are a great time for my family and I to go out! Everything's deserted! Anyhoo, one of our local teams is the UCLA Bruins, and today's question will be about them. Who was the first UCLA quarterback to later start in a Super Bowl?

My new refrigerator arrived yesterday. And unlike it's predecessor, it is white. The last one was stainless, which meant nothing could be put on the front. No photos, no magnets, no papers. Is your refrigerator covered with stuff, or is it pristine? I am barely recovering from the trauma of my Teeny post.

Ahh, the life of a parent. There is nothing quite like hearing your son call out at 4:30 AM that he needs a Kleenex. For some reason, even though I try very hard to keep a nice schedule, I haven't been sleeping well lately. I hate that. Hubba-hubba has been even worse than me, and will toss around for hours, even when he is exhausted. There is that horrible looking at the clock and thinking, "I've got to get to sleep, I only have x number of hours before I have to get up." And then looking at it later and doing another mental calculation and getting even more depressed about how tired you are going to be the next day. I suggested perhaps taking some Tylenol PM or something to help him get to sleep. But for some reason, Hubba-hubba is anti-medicine, for almost everything. I know he is truly feeling like crap when I see him go for the cold medicine. He prefers to tough it out, although most of the time I think he is just being silly by not taking medicine. I mean

I knew it was going to happen. I just didn't think it would be this soon. I am officially persona-non-grata in my own house. Oh sure, I'm good for baking and getting his lunch and taking him to the Aquarium and the park, and pretty much everywhere else. But, I am no longer the apple of his eye. He no longer prefers to sit next to me when we go out. Nope, the time has come for Dad-worship. And to be honest, there is no other man in the world that I would rather Mr. Personality look up to than his father. His Dad is one of the most kind and honorable men in the world, and he would do well to follow in his footsteps. It's just that I have had almost five years of being number one. And dang, it hurts a bit to all of a sudden be bumped to number two. My sister says I should take full advantage of the turn of events. That I should just walk away and say, "OK, you two get to hang out! Buh-bye!" And I'm sure eventually I'll get to that point. But for now,

So just recently, I opened a letter in the mail. It said: Dear Gina, We here at big multi-national corporation that may or may not own NBC just wanted to send you this friendly letter to let you know that your dishwasher may or may not catch on fire. 1500 people have already had their dishwashers from us explode in their kitchens, so we thought me might institute a wee bit of a recall. We can either come and fix your 7 year old dish washer, or we can give you a $150.00 credit toward the purchase of a new one. From us, that is. No cheating and buying a product that has a much lower chance of blowing up your home. We've fixed the problem. Seriously. Thank you, Corporation Bent on World Domination So this is exactly the type of letter I didn't need to see, especially since we literally took ALL weekend to find a replacement refrigerator. In 105 degree heat, of course, in a warehouse that lacked air conditioning. It never ends, does it? And, what the heck is going on with my