Showing posts from October, 2007

Hang on Tight!

Ahhhh, can you smell it? Take a deep breath. It's the smell of fear. The smell of regret. The smell of ohmigod, what the hell was I thinking to sign up for NaBloPoMo? And why the heck does it have to be November? I mean, a major holiday is in November, it's not like it's March or something when nothing is going on. It might be easier for those of you for whom fall is in serious play. It might be cold where you are, and more tempting to stay indoors. Me? In a few days, it is supposed to be 85 degrees. Although it does annoy me that it will be November and I am still able to wear shorts. Actually, most of the women here in SoCal totally rebel against the heat and wear pants anyway. Because it's November, dammit! Anyhoo, I promise I will post every day. But I don't necessarily promise that the post will be a good one. Nowhere did it say that my posts had to be good.


Don't tell anyone, but I'm taking this last day before NaBloPoMo and doing nada. Happy Halloween! And, I'll put up the same picture I put up on the other blog, just because I love you like that.

I Thought It Was A Ringing Bell

So there we were, driving along the freeway, when suddenly all we see are brake lights up ahead. I yell at caution Hubba-hubba to slow down, because obviously there is an accident ahead, or perhaps dangerous debris on the road. Surely, only something of that magnitude could force approximately fifty cars to suddenly slam on their brakes, right? Wrong. It was a highway patrolman who had pulled somebody over off onto the shoulder of the freeway. People, people! What do you think the chances are that in the middle of checking the license and registration, or in the actual act of writing the ticket, that the cop is going to see you going by and simply jump in his car? That he would just drop everything unfinished to chase after you when he's already got his sucker of the moment? What would you say, perhaps .08%? Maybe I'll give you .09% if something fairly egregious happened, not just somebody going a little faster than the rest of the pack. Yet still, there is some sort of Pa

Prohibition Alert!

You know, I almost didn't post anything today because I thought, man, I am going to be posting every single darn day during November. And if that isn't enough Gina for you guys, I don't know what is. Suffice it to say I will be relying on some tricks to get me by, I'm going to guess that not all of my posts will be treatises on political upheaval in Myanmar. I mean, it's just a guess. We went to a pumpkin carving party tonight, and Mr. P carved his first pumpkin by himself. Almost. Just a wee bit of help. It was really good, too. We are going trick or treating on Wednesday night in my sister's neighborhood because they rock. My sister lives on a cul-de-sac and everyone knows each other, and one of Mr. P's little buddies lives across the street from my sister, so we are all going to go together. I was talking to the mom of the little buddy today, and she mentioned that a few other families in the neighborhood were going together and beforehand, they wer

The Poll For a Fine, Fabulous Friday

Ah, what can I say. I felt like some alliteration. Have you ever looked at what you've written on your blog and cracked yourself up? Or is it just me? And if you are in the mood for some kickin' Halloween music, head on over to Py Korry and get yourself some! Oh, and there just might be some music from yours truly in there somehwere as well.

A Day Late and a Dollar Short

For Wordless Wednesday, that is. But listen, I have a crappy cruddy camera, but you can still see the color of the moon is totally changed due to all the particles in the air from the fires. It was pretty high up, too. And, some kook decided to leave a horrible, misspelled comment that was about 50 paragraphs long, so as much as I hate to do it, I have enabled comment moderation.

On Cussing and Boobs

I have been tagged and/or approved to steal about four different memes, and I think that I shall be saving them all for days in November when I am running a little low on brain batteries. Crap, I think I'm gonna need more than four. I find myself using the word crap quite often, I have no idea why. But I do know that Mr. P keeps saying "Dammit!" and I place the blame squarely on the broad shoulders of his father. He lets that word slip into his vocabulary quite often. Hubba-hubba tried to blame kids at school, but I know better. Every time he tries to do something and it doesn't go right, dammit comes out loud and clear. I suppose it is better than the f-bomb, but still. If I have to give up all my cussing, it's only fair he does the same. My mother told me to ignore it when Mr. P says it, that he will like getting a reaction. To me, it just seems like tacit approval, and how will I ever win mother of the year if my son goes around his Lutheran preschool be

Back Home

We are back home for now. The power was restored late this afternoon, thank God, just as we were considering packing it up and going somewhere else to spend the night. Our house was never in imminent danger, although I live in an area with a large amount of brush and chaparral, so there were fire crews prowling around, looking for flare-ups caused by stray embers, which can happen faster than you could imagine. I have to say that I have never in my life, someone who has lived here my entire life, seen anything like the inferno that is Southern California right now. So many fires, so many homes lost, so many acres burned black. It makes me ill. And what makes me more ill is that some of these fires were started by sickos who wait for exactly the conditions that we had, high winds and low humidity, to get their jollies by starting a fire. So much destruction around here, it literally looks like a hurricane came through here, with hundreds of trees down, signs broken and bent, stree

Blown Away

That is a fitting name for this post, as the winds outside our house right now are blowing at speeds that have been clocked at 85 mph, which is technically hurricane-force. The wind truly sounds like a freight train. I have never experienced such a ferocious wind storm, and we get them every year around this time. Oy. If you've checked the news, you've heard about the Malibu fire, but seriously, when doesn't Malibu burn? Every frickin year they have a fire, it just goes with the territory of being remote and having heavy brush, combined with no irrigation and a canyon. It's just a volatile mix. Meanwhile, in the very canyon in which my house is located (the Fremont Canyon) we are in the thick of those winds clocked at hurricane speed, and it is just crazy, people. There are trees being uprooted everywhere, as well as something that just hit my roof. I'm not kidding. We have seen at least two transformers blow out, kind of pretty, actually that huge blue glow

Poll for Friday

I tend to be a creature of habit, especially when it comes to breakfast. My breakfast is almost always the same, and is mostly carbs, with some protein thrown in grudgingly. Tell me, what is your normal breakfast?

He's for Rent. Semi-Cheap

I know, I am so behind on your blogs, I promise I will catch up soon. Have I ever told you the process in which I vet my blog posts? I will sit and write whatever comes into my mind, sometimes I have mulled over a concept throughout the day, and others it will just come to me as I tap away on the keyboard. So, I will write it all out, perhaps make a few tweaks here and there, and then call Hubba-hubba over to read it. He will sit down in front of the computer and begin. Sometimes he will laugh, sometimes he won't. He will then turn the chair around and wait for me to ask him what he thought. "It was good. I liked it." Ok, so goodnight to Hubba-hubba because by this point it is his bedtime. Off he goes and I sit back down at the computer and rewrite the entire blog post. Because if there is one thing I have learned in almost four years of blogging is that whenever Hubba-hubba likes a blog post, nobody else will. I have proof. You think I'm kidding. I'm not.

Some Good, Clean Suffering

Yesterday saw me in bed, writhing and moaning. Get that mind out of the gutter, you. Yes, you . Don't try and look around like you don't know who I'm talking about. I was writhing and moaning because I wanted to simply give up and burn to a crisp like my body wanted me to by giving me a 102 degree fever. It has been a very long time since I have had a fever that high, and even though my Dad admonished me to go to the doctor because as he stated, "You are killing brain cells!" all I could do was just lay in the bed and shiver. Today finds me on the mend, although a bit weak. But I'm always a bit weak, whether it be physically or mentally, so I'm used to adjusting as needed. Tomorrow will find me at the doctor's office for a completely unrelated matter, one in which I hope will not result in some minor surgery. You do not want me to get into the details, so don't ask. And be glad I didn't tell you. And, because you are my friends, I beg you to go


You see, that is what I love about this new template. I can title my post "Crap" and look at how elegant it looks! The word crap has never looked better! But really, I am digging this template, even though HaloScan has seen fit not to work on it, so it looks like I have gone two years or so with no comments. That's gonna be confusing for people who are new here. They might even think I made up the leaderboard and links in a sad attempt to mask the fact that no one comes here. I just didn't have time to mess with HaloScan any more today, so I'll give it another go. And less important things, like grocery shopping or laundry might just have to be sacrificed. It'll be so hard to give them up. I am at heart a book junkie, and I think most people that know me forget that my degree is in English Lit. For some reason, I rarely write about books I read on this blog because I usually think other people do book reviews much better than I ever could. But I almost

Pointless Points Trivia

Welcome to the I-lost-my-bet-with- Liz edition of Pointless Points Trivia, where the points don't matter! That's right just like my faith in the Yankees beating the Cleveland Indians, they just don't matter! That's right my friends, I lost my bet that the Yankees would beat the Indians to advance, and so, this post is my punishment. So to speak. I have to admit that the Indians are a great team, and so I will say that they are a great team, and I hope they kick the crud out of the Red Sox. Because nothing makes a Yankee fan more pleased (other than to have the Yanks win) than to see the Sox get beat. The Cleveland Indians finished the regular season tied for the best win record in baseball with the Boston Red Sox. Very impressive. They are currently playing the Red Sox, with the series tied at 1-1. It should be a pretty exciting series, actually, for baseball fans. They began as the Blues, turned into the Bronchos, evolved into the Naps, and since 1915 have been

fRiDaY pOlL

Can you tell I'm getting bored with the title? My grandmother called me the other day, concerned that because I no longer get the newspaper (long story, let's call it a protest due to change of management and content) I didn't know about the recall of Pirates of the Carribbean flashlights. She thought that Mr. P might have one, and she wanted me to know. I didn't have the heart to tell her that I already knew about it and that I get all my news, instantly, online. I've even started eschewing television news because it bugs me that they all stand. Whatever happened to sitting down? It makes me nervous that they stand. Where do you get your news?

Three Hours

Mr. P is gone at school for exactly three hours a day. And you know what? I still can't seem to get anything done. I draw up these grand plans for the morning and think, ok, I'll go grocery shopping and mop the floors, maybe a little dusting. If I'm feeling really ambitious, I will toss around the idea of folding some laundry. All you would need to do is take one look at my bedroom, and you would be able to tell that my visions are for naught. Now that I have a job which pays me actual money, not Monopoly money or gift certificates, I am having a difficult time, well, finding time. For the past two days, I have had a bit of writer's block, and let me tell you, it is way different to be funny when you think no one is listening compared to your boss wanting FUNNY. I was hired to be thoughtful and funny, and some days it is difficult to to it on command. Don't get me wrong, I love doing it, but some days that spark is just not there. And it bugs me. Because then


Listen, Milo Ventimiglia is hot. And, he just happens to be, uh, really young. I mean, he isn't all that young, but something about me thinking he is attractive just feels sort of wrong . My mind keeps wandering to thoughts like, but I could be his Mom, or other such buzz-killing musings. Really, I take all the fun out of it. Is it just me, or do men have absolutely no compunction about finding younger women attractive? And is it just me, or do many women sort of feel the same way as I do, even if they tell themselves they should get over it? Hmmm, I say to heck with ethics and all that crap. Cougars of the world, unite!

Bits n' Pieces

That sounds like some sort of dog food, doesn't it? "Come here Buster, come and get your Bits n' Pieces!" For all I know, there already is a dog food with that name out there. First of all, we now have a betta fish, whose life I am trying desperately to save since I read (thanks to a tip from J ) about New Tank Syndrome. Sounds horrific, I know. Well, basically it is a buildup of ammonia in the tank due to levels of good bacteria being too low to neutralize them. So here is Gina, every day changing out 15% of the fish water and dechlorinating it, and keeping it warm to encourage good bacterial growth, blabbity blabbity blah. The fish, dubbed Watermelon the Second, had better appreciate me. Who am I kidding? My own husband and son don't appreciate me, what makes me think a fish is going to come through? Second of all, if you didn't catch "Pushing Daisies" on ABC last week, make sure to watch it. Excellent. Good, witty dialogue and a love stor

Circle Time Sucks

I have a son who apparently does not like school. I don't know if it is the routine of going every day that he doesn't like, or if, as he tells me "It's boring." Or what. But one of my worst nightmares has already come true. My son is very bright, he was reading at three, taught himself simple addition, and in general is an outgoing, happy child. But he comes home from school whining about how boring circle time was, or that he didn't have a good day, and I'm starting to get frustrated. I don't think it is the teacher. She has been teaching for over twenty years, and is just a lovely woman who enjoys all of her students, making sure to hug them hello and goodbye and talk to them indvidually before they leave for the day. Last week when I told her that Mr. P was reluctant to come to school, which was on a Wednesday, I found out that she had told him that if he came to school for two more days that he would get two days off. Tell me that's not a pr

friday pooooollllllllll

Because whee, it's Friday and I woke up this morning thinking, gosh, it's Wednesday and I am so behind . D'oh! How many times a week do you eat out?

What's That Weird Glow?

When Hubba-hubba used to work until midnight, the evenings were mine to do as I wished. When the seasons shifted, so did my dinnertime to accomodate the loss or gain of light, or just because I felt like it. But now that he is a bona fide desk jockey, dinner is immovable. There is a carefully orchestrated timetable that goes into effect once he arrives home, because he wants an actual dinner instead of something I throw in the microwave to heat up. Huh. The nerve. Anyhoo, the sun is going down much faster than it used to, and we are plunged into semi-darkness as we are seated at the table. I love the earth so much that I have compact flourescent light bulbs in my ceiling fan that is over our kitchen table. And as much as I feel good about my low carbon emissions, I hate eating under them. We are just so close to them, and really, flourescent lighting doesn't do anybody any favors in the looks department. I'd rather the first really good glimpse my husband gets of me afte

Who's With Me?

Because I am just a masochist like that, I have decided to do NaBloPoMo again. Sheesh, don't look at me like that. Don't you know that blogging is an addiction? If you didn't, then what are you doing here, huh? If you don't already know, NaBloPoMo is simple. A post every day for the month of November. That's it. How hard can that be? Seriously, I had a great time last year, even though I won squat. They have lots of prizes, and of course I was unlucky enough to win exactly nothing. But it's a lot of fun, did I mention that? Who cares if I already have a quota to meet on my other blog ? And am supposed to have a quota that not one person bothers to follow on that one ? So what if that means I supposedly need to contribute to two blogs every day? I betcha I can do it. And if I can do it, so can you, my friend. Come on, throw caution to the wind, like Boogiemum and I have already done! To heck with having a life! And, come on down to Teeny Manolo and p

A Smorgasboard

The wise and wonderful Maya's Granny tagged me for a "Family Tradition" meme more than a while ago, and I am a sad, sad participant who is months late in responding. It was actually a rather difficult exercise, but here I go. 1. Post the rules. 2. You have to choose two different heritages that you (or an ancestor) really do have. They can be nationalities, races, religions, regions, or even political parties. 3. Make up a silly tradition (or as many as you want) that reflects them. 4. Do as many as there are mixes in your family. 5. Name five people to follow; inform them in the comments section of their blogs. I, (as of this moment) a Democrat, married a Republican, so We always wonder if when we are together, people see purple. My pajamas have a donkey, his have an elephant. We always wear little signs that say "We cancel each other out!" when we go and vote together. My mom, a German, married my Dad, an Italian so After their spaghetti and meatballs, they w