Showing posts from January, 2007

Attack of the Playdates!

So, about this time last week, I was wondering what was wrong with me. You may remember this little interaction with David's mom. Well, that was a long time ago, and she still hadn't called. Was it me? Did I smell? Was she offended that my coral-colored lipgloss clashed terribly with my plum-colored pants? Every day, I would bat away Mr. Personality's insistent questions on when he would be playing with David. Conveniently enough, I just began pawning it off on David's mom. Well, honey, I would say in my most sugary voice, David's mommy hasn't called me back. I'm all about shifting the blame, you know. Imagine my surprise when yesterday, the call came. I was like a giddy schoolgirl finding out her secret crush was on the phone. I was a little too loud, a little too revealing, and probably just sounded stupid. She seems like a very low key person. And if you were to ever meet me in person, low key is not the first description that springs to your

The World According to Garp, er, Gina

People who don't agree with stem cell research should all get on a list, and then when the medical advances come out that are a direct result of that research, won't receive them. No changing minds when you find out you or your loved one has a horrible disease. Cuz, you know, it was unethical and all that. People who cut in line should be then forced to go into another line where people are paying for their purchases with only quarters, dimes, and pennies. Either that, or the line of ladies who don't even bother to take their checkbooks out of their purses until the cashier is completely finished ringing everything up. And then need a pen and don't know what the date is. People who think it is ok to smoke around children should have to put on their own little astronaut-like helmets when they feel the need for a puff. We'll work out something for the times they need to take the cigarette out of their mouths. Perhaps some kind of tube. People who don't agree w

Sunday Flashback Theater 2000

This week's flashback is yet another 80's band, and let's get this out right now, there's gonna be a lot of 80's videos featured here, 'k? That was my musical era, my friends. The one which I feel most comfortable with. And let's face it, the wealth of cheesy videos produced during that time make for some good flashback fodder. Icehouse was an Australian band, led by lead singer Iva Davies. No, that's not a typo. Now, I am usually not one for "high" male voices, but Iva simply has a wonderful tonal quality which draws me to him. That, and the poufy hair reminiscent of Patrick Dempsey. The song today doesn't really put that voice on full display, but trust me, it's good. Icehouse had a couple of hits here in the States, although their main success would be in their home country. They never made it truly mainstream here, although I have no idea why not. Their music is melodic and quite easily accessible, and there is nothing in th

Cheese Pizza, But Hold the Cheese

Mr. Personality is many wonderful things. He brings much joy to my life, and he has an opinion about everything. And some of his strongest opinions are about food. I mean, I can't say as I don't sympathize, I tend to be the same way myself. But, he has some of the strangest food habits I have ever seen and sometimes I just don't know what to do with him. I have written before about my childhood and how my mother dealt with our food transgressions . Basically, whatever she put on the damn plate was what we had better eat. If we didn't like it, too bad. We had to eat it, or else be punished. I have chosen a different path with my child, and some would possibly call it the path of least resistance. Fine. But I just don't see the value in forcing my kid to choke something down that tastes vile to him, or having him go hungry because he doesn't think that brussels sprouts are tasty. Does anyone think brussels sprouts are tasty? Ah, scratch that, my mom does.

Friday Poll

What is the article of clothing that you have owned the longest? And why do you still have it?

It Just Makes You Think

I have often wondered how it is that I don't run into more people I know on a more regular basis. I did attend a small, private high school, so perhaps that has something to do with it. But what about the people I used to work with? Or went to college with? It must be because I live in the most populated area in the United States. Either that, or people don't want to say hello and they hide behind their coats or whatever when I walk by. For my ego's sake, I'll stick to the population theory. But just two weeks ago, I was sitting in a Talbot's store, waiting for my mom to finish looking at the stuff on sale. Which meant we were at the store for over an hour, but that is just how it goes when shopping with my mother. I had settled in for a long wait, as I was already done looking myself, and was ensconced in a comfy chair. A woman walked up to me and said, "Did you go to St. Blank High School?" I looked at her face and immediately recognized her, a

Maybe I'll Just Shorten it to "Foolish"

Today. Today was the day that I went into Sephora, a cool one hundred buckaroos in gift cards in my hot little hands. I was greeted and helped for a little bit by a friendly employee named Elaine, but then I requested some time to browse lipstick colors, because let's face it, there are just a billion and one lipstick colors and I don't want to have some person I don't really know hovering over me while I literally look at every shade in the store. I like to think I'm old enough to know what looks good on me at this point. No matter how seductive frosted bubble-gum pink lipstick looks in the tube, I already know that I lost the ability to wear that about fifteen years ago. Well, I could wear it, but everyone would look at me funny. I toyed with purchasing some of the i.d. bare escentuals powder foundation stuff, but they just can't convince me that I should pay twenty five bucks for powder that I am convinced is going to disappear on my skin in twenty minutes

Sunday Song Flashback

Music is a big part of my life, and I find that I don't really talk about it that much on this blog, possibly fearing that I will cause people to shun me for my musical tastes. I have what could be called eclectic taste. At least, that is the polite term, isn't it? Well, the era of silence is over. I am thrilled to bring you Sunday Song Flashbacks, where I share some of my favorite songs with you, my non-judgemental friends. I will be mining the depths of YouTube, finding for you gems which you may or may not have heard before, but which resonate with me in some way. For my inaugural song, I have chosen "Ah Leah!" by Donnie Iris. Yes, yes, I know you probably have never heard of him. But, this is a song that I can easily play four times in a row on my iPod and never get tired of hearing it. Ok, well, maybe after the fifth time I'm ready to move on, but the point is that I LOVE this song. And, I have to admit, I never even knew there was a video for this unt

Saturday Soapbox

There is a newly sworn State Assemblywoman here in California who wants to make it illegal to spank a child under four years old. Sigh. I say that not because I believe that you should spank a child, I am totally against it. In fact, Hubba-hubba, whose father used his belt often on his four sons (but never the daughter) has suggested that we use corporal punishment as one of our disciplinary tools. Now, before you get the idea that he wants to open a can of whoop-ass on our son, that isn't the case. He does believe, however, that a well-placed smack can be more effective than time-outs in some instances. Trust me, we have fought about it. So far, I have won every argument. I myself was spanked a few times as I child, and while I only vaguely remember the actual meting out of the punishment, I remember the hurt and the resentment that it caused. Those lasted far longer than the sting of my father's hand. It just goes against everything I stand for as a parent to hurt my

Pet Sounds

I was on the phone with my grandmother last week, and out of the blue she said, "You need to get Mr. Personality a pet." Long silence. "Maybe a fish." My family was not one for pets. I blame my mom. My dad loves dogs and has one now that we have moved out of the house, but growing up we didn't have any pets. My mom thinks that they cramp her style. We did have a cat, sort of, for a little while. Well, let's just say that my sister started feeding a stray cat who happened to be starving and pregnant. Voila , instant pet, at least for a year or so. In fact, I don't even remember the cat's name. I think it was French and pretentious. But that definitely sounds like something my sister would do- give a cat a pretentious Gallic moniker. I remember watching the cat birth her kittens underneath one of the bushes by our back door. For some reason though, the cat was considered my sister's cat, and I didn't have much to do with her. Not th

Friday Poll

All right, are you a cash, check, credit, or debit card person? You know who you are.

Old is the New Young

My grandfather will be 90 this August, and my grandmother is 85. Let's face it, they are old. It is interesting how the word "old" resonates with people, and usually not in a positive way. Old is such a loaded word. I mean, when things get old, we usually replace them, right? And it seems that for a long time, the old in America were treated as replaceable and possibly, disposable. Not for the Americans is the way of many Second and Third World cultures to revere the old for their experience and wisdom. In a society obsessed with youth, the old are an uncomfortable reminder of what we all will face- our bodies changing, wrinkling, and the inevitable, death. Not too long ago, I watched a Frontline episode entitled " Living Old ." It pointed out that soon, one out of every three Americans, thanks to those baby-boomers, will be over the age of 65. It raised all sorts of questions about how we treat the elderly, and how the face of medicine is evolving rapi

Pointless Points Trivia

Welcome to the Disneyland edition of Pointless Points Trivia, where the points don't matter! That's right, just like our attempt to spend less than forty dollars on dinner for the three of us on our trip there yesterday, they just don't matter! Talk about expensive! These animals were recently given a Presidential pardon, and currently reside near Big Thunder Ranch in Disneyland Park. What kind of animal are they?

It Wasn't All in His Mind

During Christmas vacation, Mr. Personality kept nattering (I love that word, don't you?) on about having one of his friends from school to come and play at our house. He had dropped hints that he and David were good buddies, but sometimes I don't believe half of the things he says. When he very seriously tells me that he is a policeman and that he daily rounds up the bad kids and puts them in jail, you can't really blame me, can you? So, I resolved to see if the wish for a playdate was a passing fancy or something he really wanted. On the first day back at school after vacation, Mr. P came roaring into the house (as Dad had gone to pick him up) shouting, "David is right behind me!" I expressed confusion, and he said that they had planned for David's mommy to follow Mr. P home so that they could see where we live. I hated to break the news that David's mommy probably didn't have any idea she was supposed to do such a thing, nor would she do it even

Now Even More Proof

I was tagged by Boogiemum to do the six weird things meme, and even though I already did it a while ago , there is no shortage of weirdness about me, so here you go: 1) When items in my house that are supposed to be shiny are not, it bugs me. Like, the faucets in the bathroom. Both are made out of some kind of highly relfective silver substance. If I happen to look down and see water splotches or, like today, shaving cream blobs, it annoys me. Lest anyone think I am some sort of clean freak, I don't always necessarily do anything about it right then and there, but I notice and inwardly cringe. Same thing goes for things like mirrors and even my tile counter. 2) I need to sit up straight. My days of lounging on beanbags or throw pillows and such are loooong gone. I also need back support. If I have to sit somewhere that has no back support, I get crabby. I know, I get crabby a lot, but that makes me especially crabby. 3) Since I have blonde hair and blue eyes, my preferred

Friday Poll

People who know me know not to call on Thursday nights. Ugly Betty goes into Grey's Anatomy which goes right to Men in Trees. No time to talk! What is your current television obsession?

To Test or Not to Test?

Along with the school's monthly calendar and last month's art project that had been hanging on the bulletin board, this week I got a flyer explaining about the kindergarten-readiness testing that I would have the privilege of paying forty-five dollars for. If I want to, that is, as it is optional. My first reaction was forty-five bucks ! What the hell kind of testing are they going to be doing for a preschooler? Upon further reading, it is being conducted by grad students from a local University, and the price goes towards their foundation or some such thing. It still seems a bit steep to me. Am I the only cheap-ass out there? Then I thought, my kid is in freakin' preschool! Does he really need an assessment test for kindergarten? Have things gotten so out of hand that we are assessing four year olds? That seems a bit premature to me. I was thinking that his teacher should be the one to explain his aptitude and progress to me during our upcoming parent/teacher confe

Pointless Points Trivia

Welcome to another edition of Pointless Points Trivia, where the points don't matter. That's right, just like everyone and their mother trying to tell Bush that nobody wants a troop surge in Iraq, they just don't matter! To whom is this quote attributed? Did I say that right? One of the penalties for refusing to participate in politics is that you end up being governed by your inferiors.

Saturday Soapbox

All right, I need to take a deep breath for this one. Excuse me for a second. Ok, here we go. Not too long ago, we rented "An Inconvenient Truth." Have you ever watched "Carrie?" How about "The Excorcist?" Trust me, any horror movie you have ever seen will pale in comparison to this film. It is the ultimate horror movie because I am certain that at least some, if not most of the things described in this film will happen. To me. To you. To our children. I sat on my couch and my despair grew ever greater as Mr. Gore went through his presentation. And yes, it is basically a glorified PowerPoint presentation. I despaired at all the people who are choosing, despite real scientific evidence to the contrary, to ignore what is going on. To read about the movie and what it has to say go here . You may wonder why you should listen to scientists. After all, don't they, like all people, have some sort of agenda? Most likely, no. For the majority of the

Yer Out!

Today I knew how a major league baseball umpire feels when facing an irate manager after a questionable call. Well, if that manager was approximately 43 inches tall, that is. When faced with the directive to go to the bathroom at home instead of holding it until we got to the library, I was screeched and snarled at. Just like an umpire. I would have to say that Mr. Personality probably has an edge on any manger as far as the dramatics go. I doubt any manager could top the tears and window-shattering quality of his objections. Then, I was kicked in the shin. If I hadn't been so furious that Mr. Personality had just kicked me , I probably would have started laughing. If there had been a videotape of it, I'm sure it would have been laughed at by millions of people. And, like all good umpires, I promptly ejected the manager onto the naughty rug, with a possible two-game suspension.

Friday Poll

I know that I look forward to winter so that I can stop the obsessive shaving of the legs, if only for a little while. If it became socially acceptable to NOT shave/hair-removal-method-of-your-choice anything, would you still do it?

It's All in The Vault*

I was over at Sonia's blog , and she had written out a highly impressive list of things she would like to accomplish this year. It was beautifully detailed, even elouquent, if it is possible for lists to posess that quality. But I have to admit, it gave me hives. I don't know why, but lists are so not my thing. I don't know if I consider them a sign of weakness that I have to write things out in order to remember them, or what. I have a pretty good memory, and I usually rely on it for everything. The only times I make a list is for packing when taking a long trip or the occasional grocery list. Even the grocery list is not utilized on every trip. I had a friend in high school, Kristina, who was totally obsessed with making lists. Every day she would make a long list of things to do. Beside each task was a huge box, which she would mark with a bold flourish when accomplished. While the lists weren't as detailed so as to include "brush teeth," they were

The Year Of?

So 2007 will be the year I get pregnant again. Or not. You see, I have given myself until about June. And if it hasn't happened by then, I'm afraid it just isn't gonna happen. Will my thyroid condition be under control by then? Will I have lost enough weight? Will I even be able to conceive at all, considering I will be 36 this March? Couple that with the difficulty in conceiving with a low TSH count, and all bets are off. It may be selfish of me to be setting this deadline, but I know of no other way in which I can keep my sanity. I have to be totally honest with myself. If I do that, I have to admit that I honestly don't want more than six years between my children. It may not be a choice that everyone would agree with, but it is the choice that works best for me. I have a doctor's appointment on the 10th of this month. I tried to tell him last time that the clock was "ticking" for me, and that I am starting to get frustrated with the lack of progr