Showing posts from October, 2006

The Dress Part II

I thought to myself, self, perhaps you should look online after being so sorely disappointed by the lack of sleeves that permeate the brick-and-mortar stores. So, I perused many a website, looking for something simple, slightly sophisticated, yet easy on the wallet. Not an easy feat, my friends. I found lots of cheap, cruddy looking dresses and lots of gorgeous dresses that were too damn expensive. When I shop for clothes online, which I rarely do, I tend towards the more expensive just because I have a bit more faith in the design, which is so very hard to tell from a picture. Then, I found this: Now looking at that picture, you would think, self, what can possibly go wrong here? It is black, that most flattering of colors. It is a faux-wrap, which is not only easy to wear, it is quite the fashion rage right now. It is a matte-jersey, which I knew could be a bit unforgiving of ahem, bulges, but I thought that the cut of the dress was fluid enough that it would be ok. Liz Claibor

When Animals Attack

Earlier last week, I was sitting on the couch watching television, and I suddenly felt a strange sensation on my hand. I looked down and let out a loud screech. It was a mosquito, busily preparing to suck my blood. This was unusual, because normally I never get bit by one, it is always Hubba-hubba they are attracted to. I managed to swat it off, but not kill it. I knew it was still hanging around, and that it was still hungry. So I took a blanket and covered everything but my head. A short time later, Hubba-hubba walked out of our bedroom where he had beeen studying. I informed him there was a mosquito in the house and he casually asked me if I was referring to the one that was sitting on the wall right behind me. That's right, thwarted in its first attempt, it was simply waiting me out. Eventually, it must have thought, this chick is gonna have to go the bathroom or something, and when she does, I will be there. Hubba-hubba, being the bug squasher around here, dispatched h


*If you are reading this on Bitacle, you are reading stolen content.* I have known about NaBloPoMo for quite a while now. Yet, for some reason, I have not signed up for it. Part of it is because I can't figure out exactly how . But I like to consider myself fairly intelligent, so I'm thinking that if I really wanted to, somehow I would find out what to do. Or at least ask someone who is already registered how they did it. I don't know why I have this stubborn streak when it comes to group participation things and blogging. There are lots of people who participate in the Crazy/Hip Blog Mamas prompts, and many others who do Thursday Thirteens and Friday Cat Bloggings. Other than the occasional meme, I haven't done any of those. Part of it is because I am just ornery like that. I delude myself into thinking I don't need the fresh post ideas, and then wind up blogging about the top of my refrigerator. Then another aspect is that I enjoy resisting peer pressure. If

Why I Dislike the Word "Potential"

There is a measure on our November ballot that will supposedly ensure extra money for vocational school, science classes, and the like. I say supposedly because you never know exactly where the money is going on with these things, but that is what this measure purports. I am all for vocational school because I don't think that everyone is destined to go to college. I can hear the collective gasp from the idealists at this very moment. No, they will say, every child has the potential to be an A student and attend Harvard, if only given the right circumstances. Hubba-hubba and I have had the discussion many times that all children are capable of being A students. I disagree, while he feels everyone has the potential. And therein lies the rub. Let's just say for the sake of argument that all children are raised in a home where the parents care about their education and push them to acheive. Let's just say for the sake of same argument that all children are given a qualit

To Be Continued...

I will tell you later about the titanic shift in our plans for our fifth anniversary, which will happen the first weekend in November. What you need to know is that I was suddenly in need of a cocktail dress. Um, hello, I haven't worn a nice dress to an occasion other than a wedding in over five years. The dress that I usually wear to weddings, thanks to the hypothyroid weight gain, doesn't really fit anymore. I mean, I can get it over my head, but it is a bit too snug for my comfort. And they don't make bodyshapers with enough spandex to help me out. It would need to contain some sort of metal bands to keep everything in, and I'm pretty sure those could be deemed illegal. You know, what with the high probability of those metal bands snapping as I attempt to sit my butt in a chair and becoming dangerous shrapnel. So yesterday night found me at Nordstrom's. I had been online to check out some of their stock, and was fairly confident going in that I could find s

Sugar and Spice and Not Really Nice

Dear Crabby Old Bakery Lady, How exactly do you maintain your crabbiness in a bakery? I look around and see all sorts of wonderful, yummy tasting things. I can just close my eyes and smell the vanilla, sugar and bread. How could you not be infected with the pleasure that working in close proximity with those items must bring? I also see people laughing and happy as they pick up their anniversary and birthday cakes, or their cupcakes and bear claws. Laughing and happy until you start with that particular brand of magic that is truly only yours. But there you stand, an unmovable bastion of crankiness amongst the smiles, which disappear under your wilting glare. Your pursed lips and squinty, flinty eyes behind your glasses betray your complete and utter lack of mirth. I get it. Or at least I did when I cracked a joke and the look of contempt in your eyes mentally smote me and I just decided right then and there that you weren't going to play and I wasn't even going to try an

Sunday Morning Poll

Amusing or Tacky? These are "Bible Mints" and I really, really want to know what you think!

Pointless Points Trivia

Welcome to the "It's October" edition of Pointless Points Trivia where the points don't matter! That's right, just like me wishing this eighty degree weather would quit already, they just don't matter! Here we go: For what Latin number is October named?

In The Blink of An Eye

I got the news not too long ago that some friends of ours are experiencing their own personal hell on earth. A young couple, they have two small girls and just bought their first house less than a year ago. Which is no mean feat here in SoCal, where the median home price is over 500,000. They have worked hard to educate themselves, he being a professional currently working on a Master's Degree, she a teacher. After years of struggle, they saved long enough to realize their dreams, and life seemed to be full of promises for a wonderful future. Until one of them hit a little boy with their car. In a hurry, running late because some mornings, despite the best intentions of everyone, just turn out that way. Stopping at a stop sign and crosswalk. Checking but perhaps not checking a second time before pressing that gas pedal. The morning sun, which was just at that perfect angle to blind your peripheral vision, was a major factor. They didn't see him enter the crosswalk. If th

I Want the Mahogany Colored One, Though

I usually consider myself an organized person. But, I am being defeated by the opponent known as preschool. Yesterday, I almost forgot that it was cookie-dough pickup day. I remembered at the very last minute, with the woman in charge tapping her toe in annoyance at the sorry excuses for parents that came in just as she was getting ready to call us to come pick up our little boxes of frozen goodies that I had to coerce persuade my family to buy. They have a little calendar that they send out every month that gives the daily schedule, but there are so many other elements outside the classroom that need remembering. Cookie Dough pickup for one. Ok, yeah, it was on there, but since Mr. P doesn't attend school on Tuesdays, I didn't even bother to look at the dang thing. Then there are fall festivals, holiday festivals, birthday parties and things to buy for birthday parties, candy workshops, and many other things that just wind up circling around in my head like jets backed up

Trust Me, You Don't Want the Trophy

If there was an award for "Most Idiotic Move" of the week, I would so totally win. I was baking a pizza in the oven, and I am going to plead that I was really hungry, so that was a contributing factor. In my haste to get the pizza out, I did not pull the door open all the way, and it was at an angle instead of being parallel to the floor. You see where this is going, right? Yes, I badly burned my left hand knuckle because I was so lazy that I could not be bothered to open the oven properly. The worst part? It was the second time in a month. In the exact same spot, and it was only partially healed. The only way I got any relief even after running cool water on it for ten minutes was to take a prescription-level anti-inflammatory. So with my blackened left hand, I will humbly accept my first place trophy.

The Costco Curse

It happens every time we go to Costco. Hubba-hubba is a sucker for the Kirkland brand (I know, we are so hoity-toity, aren't we?) bottled water they carry at Costco. Mostly because it is cheap. Now you don't have to tell me that paying for bottled water in the first place is a fairly un-cheap way to operate, but that will not sway him. And I have to say, the tap water from our city sucks. I have tasted other tap water and had no problem, but this stuff is just nasty. Smells weird, ya know? But, digression abounds. Our kitchen is a recently remodeled one with custom cabinets and the like. It is among the main reasons we bought this place. Our refrigerator is stainless steel. I make an effort to keep our kitchen looking nice because it is a pretty room with big windows and soothing blue paint. Then, I look up and see it. The crap that Hubba-hubba puts on top of the refrigerator. It drives me nuts. I mean in no way to offend anyone who does indeed store items on the top of

Saturday Soapbox

I consider myself a religious person. Although a bit conflicted as to formal religious worship, I do believe in God. I also adore all things Halloween. In fact, long before the current trendiness of Halloween, in 1993 I watched "The Nightmare Before Christmas" and it became one of my favorite movies of all time. So when I opened the October newsletter from my son's school, I was a bit shocked to read this: Welcome to October, a beautiful month of colors, harvest, and yes...Halloween. As Christians living in a secular world, Halloween is all around us and impossible to ignore. Since we can't erase the ever-increasing dark unchristian side of Halloween, or put blinders on our children to shield them, help us to turn it into a holiday that honors God and his good creations (Phil 4:8). It goes on to talk about bats and spiders, how they are all created by God and therefore good, and that we should not dislike them because they are unlucky enough to be linked with suc

It'll Be Our Little Secret

Let me say this- I don't trust people. Oh, well, I don't mean you . At least, I don't think I mean you. But how do I really know it's you? Over at Heather's excellent blog there has been a bit of discussion about people presenting themselves as something they possibly aren't. Which got me to thinking about why I have chosen the rather high level of anonymity that I have. Check out that first line again. At this point in my life, I suppose you could say I have a rather pessimistic view of the human race. On the whole, I think people are good, but it is just those few crazy ones that ruin it for the rest of us. Isn't that always how it is? I don't like posting pictures of my current self because a) I don't want anyone to recognize me and realize I am snarking about them and b) I don't want someone able to lift my picture, or that of any of my family members, and do something I don't know about with it. I don't like using real names becau

4 Going On 14

Anybody else have to deal with a four year old, who when he gets angry, will storm into his room and close the door? He will yell that he "doesn't want to talk to" us, and that we should just "go away." Yeah, I thought perhaps I would be dealing with this kind of sulky brooding during the pre-teen years at the earliest. Certainly not less than one month into year four. Maybe I should just paint his room black and give him some angry rock CD's and just get it over with now.

The Nerve of Some People

We were at this thing this weekend that billed itself as a "Kidsfaire" but really it was all about little booths set up to sell you life insurance or how to work from home with a few freebies thrown in. They did have activities for the kids, which is why we went in the first place. They sure sounded better in the descriptions , though. Anyhoo, we noticed a booth put on by the Water Resource Board or some such bureaucratic black-hole type of agency. It had a simulated fishing game with a fishing rod, and after you played it, you got a little trophy and a free polaroid. Free trophy and polaroid? Dude, we were so there. We were waiting in line for almost a half hour when finally it was time for the family in front of us to take their turn. The father had taken the son off to another booth because it was taking a long time and the boy was getting antsy. I understood. In fact, I was rather glad he took him away because he was beginning to be a whiny annoyance that was bette

All Quiet On the Blog Front

The blogosphere has been quiet lately. With the Foley debacle, the inextricable mire that is Iraq, the November elections, some horrible acts of violence, and the fact that Lindsay Lohan and Paris Hilton always look horrible, there is plenty of action on the "mainstream" blogs. But in my bloggy world, it seems there is a bit of a lull. I don't know if people are just settling in to the routine of school and/or cooler weather. I don't know if the big holidays are coming, and people are hunkering down in their dens, getting ready. I don't know if perhaps people are overloaded from all the effort that blogging takes. When you first begin, you think you are in a vacuum of sorts, that all you have to to is type your big (well in my case, rather small) thoughts and the rest will take care of itself. But then, people come and visit. And say hello. And they are so nice that you go and visit them and say hello right back. Before you know it, you have lots and lots of

Pointless Points Trivia

Welcome to the obscure holiday edition of Pointless Points Trivia, where the points don't matter! That's right, just like the relevance of Columbus Day to our modern lives, they just don't matter! *Although I will note a very Happy Thanksgiving to my Canadian buddies! Columbus had several destinations mapped out for his voyage in 1492. What was his first stop?

Saturday Soapbox

When we found out at five months into my pregnancy that I was going to have a boy, I was pleased. Then, I panicked. I grew up in a family dominated with estrogen. I had a boy I was friends with in the early grades, but as we got older, we sort of drifted apart. I went to an all-girl's high school. My first date in high school turned out to be a guy I was with for three years. After two years in which I sort of successfully honored my vow to be fairly man-free, I fell in love with Hubba-hubba at the age of 21. Hubba-hubba was it, so no more men for me. Even though I love the men in my life very very much, I have always felt a bit lacking in the understanding of the male of the species. Knowing my son was counting on me, I picked up as many books as I could find on raising boys, and "boy" psychology. The biggest thing I learned from all my reading was that a lot of the time, we in America push our boys to be something they aren't. We push them to hide their emoti

The Joke Is Really On Me

Y'all think I'm just joking when I say how lazy I am. Sad to say, it isn't all that much of a joke, it's pretty close to the truth. Case in point: We have some leather storage cubes from Pottery Barn that when they were purchased, were very expensive. They are probably now worth all of twenty dollars, but I have always viewed them as nice things. They can be used as end tables, or put together to serve as a coffee table, very versatile. Right now, they are being used as end tables. This afternoon, with leather wipes in hand, I bent down to clean them. Lo and behold, it seemed that a certain four year old someone had been stealthily putting stickers all over the side of the cube. At first glance, I counted about ten. I plead ignorance to the stickers because they are dark and the cube is dark and I don't usually sit around peering closely at my end tables, ok? I was mad. He was at school, so no yelling could be done at that time. So with a sigh of resignati

Free Dirt (You Haul)

Patience. Among my many (ahem) virtues, it has never been one of them. Cooking rice? I always lift the lid. Baking? The oven light is constantly on. Ditto opening the oven door. Reading? Although I can plow through books a thousand pages long, I have been known, on occasion mind you, to skip to the back to find out the ending. Traffic? I stew and hurl silent invectives since I have a preschooler in the back. Lines? I am sure there is more than one store camera that has caught me rolling my eyes and sighing loudly as the woman in front of me takes forever to get out her checkbook and painstakingly write out the whole thing after all her things have been scanned. And then she needs to ask the total again because it's taken so long that she has forgotten and oh my, where is her driver's license anyway.... However, oddly enough, I'm not a big fan of running. Something about the effort and all. Just kinda turns me off. A little. Ok, a lot. So with the exception of ru

Hey, They're Not Four-Letter Words

On Monday morning, we were in the usual rush of getting Mr. Personality ready for school. Which really makes no sense, since he is enrolled in the afternoon class, but for some reason, we still haven't quite worked out the timing correctly and we always seem to be running late. We've never actually been late, it just feels like we're going to be. I had picked out a new shirt that Mr. P's grandmother had given him on his birthday. It was actually one that I had chosen myself as we had been shopping together at the time. I pointed it out and said, "Oh, Mr. Personality will love that shirt!" And grandma, being the good grandma she is, obligingly bought it. He likes pirates, and it had a happy little cartoon skull and crossbones, replete with merry hat and eyepatch, and "Pirate Club" emblazoned across the top. Really, it is too cute, you would like it. Hubba-hubba was the one to drop him off to school, and for some reason I can't quite remembe

I'm Just a Big Ho at Heart

Now it could be just me. Actually, I fervently hope it is just me. Do me a favor. Take a look at my blog title up there. Please, please, don't tell me that the switch over to a new template has turned "Just Another Day" into the equivalent of a bad porn movie title. I have no clue as to how to fix it. But on the bright side, I bet by posting the phrase "bad porn movie title" I probably just doubled my blog traffic. *Many thanks to the my wonderful friend Karla for helping me adjust the title font! So now, instead of "Lust Another Day" I'm pretty sure it says the proper sentiment. As for some of you, it seems that the title is a weird color, and on different browsers, my page looks all messed up. I will try to fix that ASAP. But really, the title was my big concern this morning!

Anybody Got Some Kevlar I Can Borrow?

Awkward. That's how I feel after Mr. Personality's birthday party. These parents have a little girl who is just a week older than Mr. Personality, and they happen to live very close to one of my family members, which is how we got introduced in the first place. So, due mostly to that proximity, the little girl happens to be one of Mr. P's oldest friends. Except, may I say, that the little girl is turning into a huge brat. Well, she's always kind of been that way, but now that the kids are getting older, it's a bit harder to explain off the way you can when they are toddlers. Mom and Dad are too tired to discipline her at the end of the day and on weekends since they both work, and she knows that even when threatened with consequences, odds are in her favor that they won't deliver on them. So she runs around, basically causing havoc and chaos with Mom barking ignored orders and disengaged Dad could really care less. This has been driving me nuts. Because if