Priceless

Drive from Peoria to Normal Train Station.

Train to Chicago.

Taxi cab to downtown Chicago hotel.

Brunch at the American Girl Store in Water Tower Place.

Shopping to break the bank at the American Girl Store.

Taxi cab to Shedd Aquarium to see new Oceanarium.

Beluga whale show, dolphin show, Sponge Bob 4D movie, holding a starfish as big as your head.

Picnic on the lakefront with a view of the marina, Lake Michigan, Grant Park, and the Chicago Skyline.

Taxi cab to Michigan Avenue,

Playing on park playground next to Water Tower Place.

Having nails "buffed" by (probably very bored) make-up counter girl.

Dinner at famous pizza place.

Taxi cab to Union Station.

Train back to Normal.

Drive back to Peoria, arrive at 11:20 pm.


Me: What was your favorite part of Chicago?

Daughter: The PARK!!!!

Congratulations!

I am eligible to take part in Illinois's Safe Driver Sticker Renewal Program. Or so says the notice I got from the Secretary of State's Office. I guess this means that instead of going to the driver's license place, I get to simply pay online and get a sticker to put on my old license.

But wait.

There are several restrictions and I am not eligible if any of several statements pertain to me. For example, I am not eligible if my driver's license has been revoked, or being held by court in lieu of bail, or if I have any condition that might cause a temporary loss of consciousness. In addition, you do not qualify if:

"Your legal name or gender has changed or you have lost your driver's license."

Perhaps it's just me, but the change of legal name or losing a license shouldn't be grouped in the same category as a gender change. That's kinda a biggie . . . so much so that it might just need it's own category.

Tuesdays with Dorie - Potential Tartlet Ruin by Modern Technology

I've decided to join the Tuesdays with Dorie people, following in my good friends', KPOW and SS, footsteps. I actually purchased the book several weeks ago and have been following the recipes "behind the scenes" to see if I could handle it. I love it - I have always loved cooking and baking but I am not as skilled at baking, so this gives me a chance to practice.

When I saw the recipe for this week, I was both excited and a teensy-bit disappointed. Seriously? A recipe with four ingredients, one of which was pre-fab pastry dough? Well, hell's bells . . . I could that. Heck! Even my three year old could do that. Famous last words . . . .

I went to the store with the best of intentions. The note provided in the book said that Pepperidge Farm puff pastry was perfectly serviceable, but all-butter dough would be better. So, I went to the store in town that always has the best chance of having higher-quality or harder-to-find ingredients. I was a little disappointed to see that the store only had the Pepperidge Farm brand, but thought I could live through it. (After all - it was still puff pastry dough - one of the best things on Earth. Ever.)

However, what I hadn't planned for was simultaneously grocery shopping and having a text message conversation with my boyfriend. So, I admit, I was a little distracted when I grabbed a package of Pepperidge Farm Puff Pastry without really reading the box.

Fast forward to last night. After dinner (and before the new episode of Intervention*), I headed to the kitchen to whip up these Parisian Apple Tartlets and for the first time took a good look at the package. Crap. This particular puff pastry was obviously meant to be cooked then stuffed, not stuffed then cooked. Plus, they were tiny - about three inches across:

Hmm. I may have stumbled upon my first TWD failure, and I hadn't even really begun.

But, I rallied. Convinced it would be really hard to screw up pre-fab puff pastry, sugar, butter, and apples, I peeled and "chunked" my apple. Unfortunately, the chunks were bigger than the pastry. So, then I sliced the apple and arranged it on the sil-pat.

I foresaw disaster. There was no way for the pastry to puff when the entire hexagon was covered with apple without causing the apple and sugar to fall off. But, I rallied. Again. I decided I needed an apple/sugar/butter containment system that would allow the pastry to puff around the apple while providing support for the apple. Searching through my cabinets, I stumbled upon mini tartlet pans. Who knew?

They certainly looked pretty precooked.

In the end, I think the only thing I really saved was cleaning off the sil-pat because the butter/sugar mixture burned along the bottom and the pastry didn't puff as well as it should have.

As I served the tartlets to my boyfriend, I said, "Please note the beautiful one-of-a-kind black lace sugar doily on the bottom. And the artfully arranged black crumbs on the plate. That's very special. You don't see that technique everyday. Appreciate it."

All that being said, they tasted very good (even the burnt parts) and were just the right size for a snack.

Next week should be better, right? I mean, it's just ice cream . . . how could I screw that up?**

*Is it wrong to eat French Pastry while watching an intervention of two really creepy twin anorexics? Turns out . . . I don't have a good answer for that question.

**I think this may become the theme of my TWD experiences - "How Could I Screw That Up? Well, Let Me Show You the Ways . . . ."

Oh! You Mean . . .

Daughter: Is your hair in a bush?

Me: What?

Daughter: Your hair - it's in the bush, right?

Me: What??

Daughter: (Pointing to my head, where my hair is in a bun) Your bush - right there on your head!

Me: Oh! You mean . . . my hair is in a bun. BUN. Not bush.

Daughter: Oh, yeah. Bun.

A few minutes later . . .

Daughter: Can you put my hair in a bush too?

Unplugged

For reasons that shall remain private, I spent the better part of my day yesterday sitting in my house without electricity waiting for Ameren to show up and fix it. I spent nearly 10 hours in my house with no power whatsoever. A house without power is very, very quiet. And very, very boring.

Every time I would think of something to do, it required electricity in some fashion. Watch TV? No. Computer? No. Laundry? No. Eat food? No - mostly because I was determined to save the food in the freezer at least and not open the refrigerator because food stays good longer if you don't open it. Music? No - my iPod is apparently out of batteries.

But after I panicked about not being able to check my email, I had a pretty good day. I read 300 pages of a mystery I've been struggling to get through. I listened to the sounds of the neighborhood. I cleaned out my daughter's drawers and switched her to all summer clothes. I trimmed a couple of shrubs in front of the house, pulled weeds from the flower bed, and ripped out a dead shrub. That last one was a lot of fun and helped me work through my anger at myself for the whole situation, even though I did land on my ass once trying to use all of my body weight to pull out the root cluster.

I did have my cell phone available, but it was running low on charge and I needed to be able to yell at Ameren if needed as the day got later.

We are so used to electricity that being without it is strange and foreign. I can't tell you how many times I walked into a room and flipped on the light switch and was surprised when nothing happened. I reached for the remote about 10 times to turn on the TV. I glanced at the digital cable box at least 20 times to see what time it was. I literally thought, "Well, I guess I should do some laundry" too many times to count.

I worried about what would happen when the sun went down and I couldn't read anymore. I was glad it wasn't any hotter or colder than it was so I didn't suffer from lack of heat or air conditioning. I thought about whether I could force myself to take a cold shower in the morning. I worried about what my hair looked like because I couldn't use a hair dryer or curling iron.

But most of all, I thought, "People used to live like this?"

*Shudder*

I would SO not make it as a pioneer woman. My childhood dreams of being Laura Ingalls Wilder are shattered.

Riddle Me This

So, if those two red-headed, facial haired, weird-ass hat wearing dorks on Mythbusters say we aren't supposed to take a shower during a lightening storm, how the hell am I supposed to get ready for work when there is a lightening storm from 9 pm until at least 10:15 am the next morning? You know, stupid Mythbusters men, there are some people in the world who have to get up every morning and shower and be presentable for a job that, unfortunately, doesn't involve getting to blow shit up for the fun of it.

And this is why I think being scared of thunder storms is just plain silly. I need to shower in the morning, whether it's raining red-headed pussies or not.

Two Years Ago Today

I started this blog. So much has changed in the past two years, I can't begin to think about it. What I do know is that I haven't been as active a blogger in 2009 as I have been in the other years. There are probably several reasons for this and I was thinking about them this morning. Work, kids, life, etc.

However, if I chart my blogging activity over the last 24 months, there is one thing that stands out. When this thing started, my blogging became much more infrequent and random. No, I didn't have a stroke. Or a religious epiphany. Or anything like that. But it was a big thing for me . . . I changed my status from single to "in a relationship."

I think I was using this blog as a substitute for a intimate relationship.

Now stop it, those of you with dirty minds. I wasn't doing anything weird like THAT. Good grief. But the time I otherwise spent with my blog, I now spend with my boyfriend.

BARF.

I can't believe I just said that. I just threw up in my mouth a little. Am I that girl? I've spent a good portion of my life NOT being that girl. But really, how happy was I being that girl?

OK. I was fairly happy, some of the time. Nothing that compares to the happiness I have now, but I was doing fairly well.

Anyway, I'm not going anywhere. I mean, as a blogger. I'll still pop in once and awhile, just like always. I'll probably make a few rude comments here and there. I'm sure I'll hijack someone else's less-than-interesting story with my own much funnier story. (Now back to MY story . . . .)

Oh . . . and here's a thought. If people use their blogs as a substitute for an intimate relationship, what does that say about the bloggers who post multiple times a day?

Do you know you can go blind from that?

I Wonder What the Going Rate Is?

I saw this article this morning:

Accused Heroine Dealer Behind Bars
Reported by: WMBD/WYZZ News
Staff
Thursday, Apr 30, 2009 @07:40am CST

WMBD/WYZZ – PEORIA -- A drug bust lands a Chicago man behind bars in
Tazewell County.
Eddie Davenport was arrested Tuesday after police officers
found more than four grams of heroin in an East Peoria home.
Davenport is
charged with possession of a controlled substance and intent to deliver.

I wonder what the going rate on the street is for heroic women? I hope it is pretty high because brave women who display courage in the face of danger are in great demand right now.

Pardon?

I took my daughter to have her hearing tested yesterday. She has a history of ear infections and we wanted to be sure she doesn’t have any hearing damage. (I can guarantee she can hear just fine . . . selective hearing, but fine.) Of course, the first thing she said to me yesterday morning was, "My ear hurts, Mommy." Great. We are going to get your hearing tested and you have an ear infection. Fabulous.

On our way to the audiologist, I called the doctor’s office to schedule an appointment. Naturally, the first available appointment that didn’t cut into lunchtime, naptime, or my previously scheduled and re-scheduled dentist appointment was 4:15 pm. I gave her some Motrin and walked into the audiologist’s office.

While I was filling out paperwork, the audiologist called my daughter’s name. She went back with the woman and I could hear her talking. The woman said, "What’s your baby’s name?" My daughter answered, "Bella." I could hear a few more exchanges before I entered the room. I was glad she was talking to the woman.

You see, my daughter talks CONSTANTLY if she is awake. The mouth never stops - she has a constant commentary on life and everything around her. However, she is shy in certain situations, particularly when meeting new people in a strange environment. Then she clams up until she feels comfortable. I consider this a fairly normal three-year-old behavior. Apparently, the audiologist does not agree with me.

She asked my daughter and I to have a seat in the "box," which contains a chair and two speakers on each side. It is kind of weird looking and is about the size of a really small closet. I wasn’t comfortable at all and neither was my daughter. And it didn’t help when the audiologist got in my daughter’s face and said, "You need to say these words after I say them. Say AIRPLANE."

Silence.

The woman repeated herself, but closer, "Say AIRPLANE!" My daughter made a face and turned away from her. This woman has probably been told to "get down to their level" when dealing with kids. However, someone needs to explain to her that getting down to their level is different than getting in their face. Because NO three-year-old I know responds well to a stranger making commands at them nose-to-nose.

The woman tried a different (and dumbed down, I must say) tactic, but in the same military style. "Can you point to your nose?" More dirty looks and turning away. "How about your hair?" Nothing.

The woman let out an exasperated sigh. "Well, I guess we are just going to have to try a different way. The way we use with newborns who aren’t verbal." I tried to explain my daughter’s behavior to this clueless woman by saying, "I’m sorry. She can be a little shy when she is in unfamiliar situations with new people. She can talk and hear just fine. She just a little shy at the beginning." The woman was not persuaded and replied, "It’s fine if she is shy . . . but she must actually TALK for me to test her appropriately."

I gave up. Clearly this woman was not going to change her way of dealing with children. I can’t imagine my daughter was the only child who has been in her office who is non-compliant. I just wanted her to hurry up so we could get the hell out of there.

Well, the woman messed around with a couple of other machines and couldn’t get a reading. Finally, she pulled out her ear-scope-thingy and looked into my daughter’s ear - the one I told her I thought was infected.

"Well! Here’s your problem! Her ear is COMPLETELY blocked with wax build up. I can’t even see the eardrum. There is no way I’m going to get a decent reading from THIS ear." Thanks lady. My daughter has always had ear wax issues and we use drops frequently to flush her ears. I thought I had it under control. Now I feel like a terrible parent because she can’t hear anything because her ears are so dirty.

The woman takes readings from both ears anyway. One is normal, the infected one has no activity whatsoever. The woman explains that this could be because of the wax, the infection, or because she is deaf in that ear. WTF? Now I’m completely flipped out.

I spend the rest of the day being depressed about my lack of parenting skills and ear cleaning abilities. At the end of the day, at the doctor’s office, I tell her doctor the whole sordid tale of the audiologist. The doctor rolls her eyes and takes a look in my daughter’s ears. She says, "There’s not much wax build-up . . . I can see both ear drums clearly. Sure, one is infected, but there is no way this child is deaf."

Ugh. Professionalism and good bed-side manners must be dying art forms.

Jesus Called Me a Twat!

I have a new addiction - Facebook Quizzes. Really. I can't stop taking them and everytime one of my friends takes one, I have to take one too. Mostly, they are really silly, which is probably why I like them so much. But I have a few favorites . . . .

Which type of woman are you? Lovely Lady - "Another problem is that you don't say your opinion when it's right and important to say it." (Yeah, right.)

Which kitchen utensil reveals the true nature of your sexuality? Wooden Spoon - "Over time, you may become a little warped but will always be adored by those who know you intimately."

What personality disorder do you have? Obsessive-Compulsive - "You can actually function quite well in society, except for the fact that your personality often makes your friends, family, and coworkers want to kill you!"

Who were you in high school? The stud - "Your locker smelled like dirty jocks, breath mints, and beer."

My prison bitch name is "Lips"

Which of your Chakras is most open? The Third Eye - "You value the opinions of those around you, but you'll always have the last word."

Which Beatles song are you? Maxwell Silver Hammer - "You are the real maverick. You are extremely energetic and have a quick mind. You have a strong business sense and desire power. Avoid the tendency to become ruthless and impulsive."

Which serial killer are you? Ted Bundy - "You definitely like the ladies, and nothing will stop you, even if it means going the extra mile by wearing a fake cast, or brandishing a puppy to gain the sympathy of an unsuspecting nurturing victim. You don't mind rolling up your sleeves and getting your hands a little dirty. You leave your mark everywhere, even if it is a bite mark!"

Which drug are you? Heroin - "you are pretty fucking and will stop at nothing to get some of your junk" (Part of the draw of these quizzes is the funny spelling and grammar errors . . . .)

What does Jesus think of you? Jesus thinks you’re a selfish bitch - "He just thinks you should stop being such a twat."

And my personal favorite:

Which crazy bitch are you? Sinead O’Connor - "You are one fierce bitch. You are very independent and will take no bullshit from anyone but your personality is actually sort of quiet and shy. You are a natural beauty and you are very comfortable with your femininity. You don't feel the need to overdo it or go out of your way to fuss over your looks. You don't want to distract people from what you stand for and the talents you possess. You are very idealistic and will go to any extremes to stand up for what you believe in even if it creates controversy and people don't understand. Relationships can be hard for you sometimes because men feel threatened by you but time again they come running to you and realize that you are actually very sweet and motherly . . . until they cross you."

Why I Will Never Be One of the Cool Kids

My dad recently sent me his first (and thus far, only) text message after getting his new iPhone two weeks ago. The message said, "Hello. Papa." It probably took him half an hour to write that. As much as I laughed at him, I’m probably a lot like him in the texting department. I don’t often use text "slang" and when someone uses it with me, I have to ask what it means.

So, my text messages are very much like my emails - fully formed sentences, punctuation, and correct grammar. I don’t even really like using contractions when I'm writing and once apologized because I texted "your" when I meant "you’re." (I KNOW - the HORROR!!)

I've gotten to know some of the more common text words like OIC and OMG and K, but if I’m writing it, I almost always write Oh, I see and Oh my god and OK. I don’t even use the words "kinda" or "wanna" or "gonna" that often. I’m a little bit uptight in that way.

A friend of mine sent me an online language dictionary so I could learn to be more cool. I reviewed the list of abbreviations and I just don’t think it is going to happen. I think there is just too much possibility of me miscommunicating using these words. Plus, it would take me so much longer to read anything that was written in such slang. For example . . . .

I think that any "abbreviation" that has five letters or more probably isn’t worth the effort, such as:
AFAIK: as far as I know
IANAL: I am not a lawyer (that one is pretty funny, I have to say . . . )
IAWTC: I agree with this comment
IFSFWI: If the shoe fits, wear it!
IMNECTHO: in my not-even-close-to-humble opinion
IMNSHO: in my not so humble opinion
LMIRL: let’s meet in real life
MMORPG: massive multiplayer online role playing game
NALOPKT: not a lot of people know that
NIAGW: not in a gay way
OMGBBQWTF: oh my god, bar-b-que, what the fuck
PLZKTHX: please, ok, thanks
WIBNI: wouldn’t it be nice if
WYSIWYG: what you see is what you get
YTMND: you’re the man now dog

Then there are several that freak me out. If I ever saw one of these, I would be glad I didn’t know what it meant. Unfortunately, I now know and would have to close that chat window immediately:
GYPO: get your pants off
IPN: I’m posting naked
IWSN: I want sex now
NIFOC: naked in front of computer (why? why would you do this? Think of the . . . stuff that would get on your desk chair!)
TDTM: talk dirty to me
WTGP: want to go private?

Finally, there are many abbreviations that could lead to huge misunderstandings because, according to the dictionary, they have multiple meanings:
FTW: for the win or fuck the world or for the world
GFY: go fuck yourself or good for you
GG: gotta go or good game
LOL: laughing out loud or lots of love
POS: parent over shoulder or piece of shit
WTF: what the fuck or where’s the food

So, I may sound like an old-fashioned fuddy-duddy when I text or chat online, but I would prefer that over the alternatives. But if you know how to use these words, GFY.

Just Your Average Dinner with My Parents

Cousin S: So, how was dinner with your parents and your boyfriend on Saturday night? Everything go OK?

Me: Yes, everything went really well. Just normal parents stuff. You know . . . my dad assumed we're getting married and told my boyfriend I had "sibling issues," and my mom talked about a book she had seen at Borders that day about how to live with a huge penis. Oh, and my boyfriend told my parents I didn't like to talk about poop. Pretty average dinner with my parents.

Cousin S: Well, your mom emailed me that she really liked him, so that's good.

Taxes

I just filed my federal and state tax returns electronically. I actually kind of enjoy doing it since online calculation and filing became the norm. It is kind of like taking one of those facebook quizzes, you answer a whole bunch of questions and at the end, you get a fun result! And getting a tax return is much more fun than knowing which literary character you are, which Sex and the City character you are, which author you are, and what color your aura is.

I can almost hear all of you collectively moaning while reading my declaration that I like doing my taxes. Sorry, but I do. Granted, I'm almost guaranteed to get a return every year and, generally speaking, my taxes are fairly easy. I don't own my own business, I'm not self-employed, I'm not married, I don't have any income other than my bi-weekly paycheck, I don't own any land or other real property other than my own home, I don't have any investments other than my retirement accounts, and I don't have outrageous medical expenses or any other expenses that aren't reimbursed to me.

It took me about two solid hours to do the online work, after I had gathered all the information I needed. Not bad at all. I've never seen the point in hiring someone to do my taxes, really. Before I went to law school, my taxes were really simple. The state where I went to law school required all law students to take an Income Tax Law class. And after that, I would feel kind of like an idiot if I didn't do my own taxes. There may come a time when my taxes are too complex for me and I might change my mind.

My only regret this year is that I didn't buy my car a week earlier, when it still would have qualified as a 2008 purchase. Oh well . . . there is always next year.

Here’s a Really Good Way to Piss Me Off

So, I had to call this other lawyer today who used to represent one of my clients. I need some of the materials he used while representing this client to assist in my representation of him. I’ve called and left about four messages in the last two weeks and, this morning, I finally got him on the line.

(To protect the idiots, I will call him Bob Lawyer. This isn’t actually his name.)

Bob Lawyer: (answering using the speaker phone) Bob Lawyer.

OK - I just have to stop here. I hate it when people answer the phone using the speaker phone. I hate thinking that I am speaking to a room full of people when I first get on the phone. It’s rude, particularly when I might be talking about something confidential. You know, us lawyers tend to discuss confidential things . . . every once and awhile.

Me: Yes, this is Ms. PH and I’m calling about Mr. XYZ, who is a former client of yours.

Bob Lawyer: Oh. Yeah. Well, I’m right in the middle of something . . . hold on.

I’m figuring he’s going to mark his page in a book or save something on his computer and get right back to me. Notsomuch.

Bob Lawyer’s computer: Tap. Tap. Tappity, tappity, tappity, tap, tap, tap. Tappity, tappity, tappity, tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Taptap. Tappity, tappity, tappity, tappity. Tap. Tap. Tappity, tappity, tappity, tap, tap, tap. Tappity, tappity, tappity, tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Taptap. Tappity, tappity, tappity, tappity.

What is he typing . . . a freaking novel? I’m on the phone! Hello! I would have hung up, but since it had taken me so long to get him on the phone, I couldn’t risk losing him.

Bob Lawyer’s computer: Tap. Tap. Tappity, tappity, tappity, tap, tap, tap. Tappity, tappity, tappity, tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Taptap. Tappity, tappity, tappity, tappity. Tap. Tap. Tappity, tappity, tappity, tap, tap, tap. Tappity, tappity, tappity, tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Taptap. Tappity, tappity, tappity, tappity.

Arrrrrrrrggggggghhhhh!

Bob Lawyer’s cell phone: Ring, ring.

Bob Lawyer: (into cell phone) Bob Lawyer. Yeah. Hmm. Uh-huh. OK. No, I’m not available at that time. Right. Yep. No. Sure. OK. Bye.

OK, so he has time to talk to someone on his cell phone, but not to me? Now I’m really pissed and just about ready to hang up, when . . .

Bob Lawyer: Ms. PH? Hi. Blah, blah, blah, blah.

Now, the blahs aren’t what he actually said. What he actually said was this long drawn out story about how he had been screwed in this case and lost money on it and was really pissed about it and how he didn’t think he could send me the materials, etc. etc. etc.

Me: Hmm. Well, here’s the thing. I need those materials and here is the address where you can send them.

Click. (He hung up on me.)

See . . . this is what happens when you piss me off. I actually know how to fix the problem he complained about regarding the reason he felt he was screwed. And, under ordinary circumstances, I would have shared my knowledge with him. I just didn’t feel so much like telling him after he kept me waiting on the phone while he typed an email and chatted on his cell phone.

Amazing how simple courtesy could have saved him a couple hundreds of dollars and yet . . . Bob Lawyer choose another direction. C’est la vie.