Beware! The Music Geeks Cometh!

Yesterday and today represent two of my least favorite days to work downtown. Every year, there is some sort of high school music festival involving busloads of band and orchestra geeks and their teachers in downtown Peoria. Is it All-State? I have no idea, but they really irritate me.

Before you all get up in arms and call me a bitch (again), I will preface all of this by saying I am allowed to bitch and moan about music geeks (and call them music geeks) because I was, in fact, a big fat music geek myself. When you start playing the violin at the age of 3 and play every day for the next 20 years (except for the few weeks after my brother broke my arm), you have earned the right to make fun of the next generation of music geeks.

Oh yes, I was a BIG music geek. And because I played the violin, I naturally thought I was better than every other music geek in the world (because I was). I did every violin thing imaginable. I was a Suzuki violinist, so we had weekly lessons, monthly play days, and two weeks of violin camp every summer. I was in All-State Orchestra twice. I had a violin hickey from the first grade until I graduated from college.

So, I get these kids. I've been these kids. But I still find them fucking annoying. Walking down the sidewalks in packs preventing me from entering my parking lot. Walking through the parking lot preventing me from leaving my parking lot. (I swear to god, if that kid hadn't been carrying a cello, I would have tapped him with the front of my car. But, I have a soft spot for cellists, so I resisted.) Camping out eating lunch in the lobby of my office building. Taking up every available seat in the downtown area for lunch.

I do have some positive things to say about these kids, though. They don't jaywalk, which immediately makes them 10 times smarter than Bradley kids. They are fairly well-behaved considering most of them don't have parents with them. You don't hear about them trashing hotels and getting shit-face-wasted like the Basketball kids who show up in March. Plus, they are snappy dressers because they have to perform. I saw an entire carload of 17 year olds in tuxes this morning. How sweet.

And don't get me started on those Basketball kids. They are 100 times worse than the music kids. First, there are more of them. Second, they are here for longer. Third, their parents come with them and, if there is anything more annoying than High School jocks let loose on downtown . . . it's their parents.

Live Blogging from My Couch

Well, since this format seems to work so well for another blogger, I thought I would try it. Granted, I'm not covering some important media event or meeting, but I bet my live blogging will be a hell of a lot more fun. Plus, it is too damn cold to go out. Oh, yeah . . . and I'm the only adult here so I should probably stay at home.

7:56 pm - Three year old finally sung herself to sleep. Ugh.

What the fuck is up with Stacy London's gray streak? I thought Jay Leno had the corner on that market. Although, have you noticed that Jay Leno's streak used to be white in front surrounded by black and now it is black in front surrounded by gray?

7:57 pm - excuse me. Important text message

7:59 pm - switch to Tool Academy. I missed it on Sunday because of fab book club meeting. I can't figure out whether the men are really the tools or there will be a surprise ending where it is revealed that the women are really the bigger tools. Because, all of these women should be shot in the head. Or the fake boobs.

8:01 pm - Oh yeah. Right. The tools are holding each other accountable. Whatever. Oh oh - crooked nipples? I might have to pay attention now.

8:02 pm - important text message

8:03 pm - it is fucking cold in my house. Seems to be colder than usual this winter. Why is that?

8:05 pm - I'm sorry, but how can you love someone for who he is when his hair looks like a rooster who had an accident with a bleach bottle. Does that make me shallow? Hmm . . . something to think about.

8:10 pm - UGH! I can't believe Vicki Christina Barcelona won a Golden Globe. That was a shitty movie. Shitty, shitty movie written by a dirty old man about what he fantasizes young intelligent educated women are like. All it shows is that he has absolutely NO CLUE what women are like. Which is probably why he married with his daughter. Clearly, he doesn't really get women. Gross, gross, gross. I mean, when girls travel together, shouldn't they be talking about their hopes and their dreams and not flirting with overly-hairy men in foreign bars? Aside from the overly-hairy thing, I would much rather flirt than talk about my hopes and dreams over and over again while I am in Europe.

8:14 pm - OK - babe. No man can MAKE you feel beautiful. That's not his job. It is YOUR job to feel good about yourself.

8:18 pm - The Ping-Pong Personality Game. They may be tools, but they have a way with words, I'm telling you.

"It deeply upsetted me."

8:23 pm - I just remembered my daughter zipped up my hoodie all the way up while we were reading books an hour ago which is why the zipper keeps poking me in the neck. Mystery solved.

8:25 pm - text message from crazy BFF. I mean, she is always sort of crazy but in the last few weeks she has been walking on the edge of truly batshit crazy. She is obsessed with her sister's impeding divorce. While I know this is very hard for the entire family, my BFF has really taken it upon herself to do most of the freaking out for her sister. It's not healthy, I tell you. I think she needs a hobby. Or four. Or a job.

8:35 pm - I haven't talked to my parents for awhile. I wonder what is going on with them. They were in South Carolina two weekends ago and my brother was at their house this past weekend. I know this because my brother "poked" me using my dad's facebook account. I think he can't figure out how to have his own account. Which is weird because he used to be a computer nerd. But now the last thing he did with his computer was transfer all of his opera CDs to his iPod. So, maybe that still makes him a computer nerd but in a completely different way.

8:36 pm - I think trailers for horror films should only be shown after 10 pm. They freak me the shit out. Yes, even the trailers. I don't like them. Just like that Nike ad during the 2000 Summer Olympics which featured the woman being chased by a crazy masked killer and she was able to outrun him because she was wearing Nikes? I couldn't sleep for a week after that ad. I lived on the third floor and I set up traps in front of all my windows. Well, I mean . . . I set out glasses and pots and pans so I could be scared shitless 1.5 seconds before I was cut into tiny little pieces by a psychokiller.

8:39 pm - Ew ew ew ew ew ew ew!! All of the Tool Academy conjugal visits happen in the same room. There is NO way I would get busy on that bed. Ew. Ew. Eeeeeeewwwwwww.

8:41 pm - Oh no! He started talking about his moms! The shit is on.

8:53 pm - crap. got sucked into shoutbox conversation at PeoriaSpeaks. Hard to live blog in two places at the same time. I might just be woman enough to handle it, though.

8:56 pm - Is she going to go home with the Tool?? She always does. Fucking spineless twits. Oh, Celebrity/Clarence going home. He's just a complete tool.

8:57 pm - PEACE BITCH! She didn't get into the car with her boyfriend. She rocks! I have new respect for her. Wait. She spent 10 years with a guy who calls himself "Celebrity"?? It's about time she left him.

9:00 pm - What to watch next? Housewives? America's Funniest Home Videos? The Housewives are creeeeeepy. Oh, but they are in Chicago. I have to see that.

I hate these women. They are just like the Tool women, just with better boob jobs and more money.

9:05 pm - The day has finally arrived . . . "My mom has finally decided to get a facelift." Those are words I will never utter. Thank god. But I bet my mom is 10 years older than this women and looks 10 times better.

9:07 pm - Another thing they should never show on TV . . . plastic surgery. Ew.

9:08 pm - OK. It is too fucking cold on my couch to type. I need gloves or something.

9:09 pm - low flying airplane. Rattled the windows. Hope it doesn't wake anyone up.

9:12 pm - Now I have my flannel pajamas on and a down blanket over me and I'm still cold. I swear to god, these women get facials every week. What a waste of money. I like a good massage and all, but I have more important things to spend money on.

9:15 pm - I don't know why people find live blogging interesting. If I wanted a blow-by-blow of someone's life, I would hang out with them. I still think this has got to be more interesting than city council meetings, but I could be wrong. I've gotten a good laugh out of a few city council meetings, but it is more like I am laughing at them rather than with them.

9:23 pm - TV is boooooooring tonight. Maybe The Closer episode I missed this week is on On Demand.

9:26 pm - Nope. I wonder if it is online.

Damn, I can't get it to work. Of course, I'm tired and my patience is running down. I give up. It will be on at some point. They always are.

9:30 pm - Blah, blah, blah. I'm going to go read a book.

Girl Talk

I’m sure there are guys who assume when women get together, we just talk about our feelings and make-up and shoes and purses. Oh, and we always have a pillow fight in our underwear. Truthfully, some of that is true. Except we almost always have naked pillow fights.

Last night, Katie and I were on our way to book club. One of our dear book club members just had a beautiful baby girl on Thursday. In addition, about 500 of our closest friends are currently pregnant. For any woman, even two women not wanting or expecting to be pregnant, the presence of so much pregnancy tends to invade every day conversations. So, that’s the back story for this conversation:

Me: Sometimes I wonder if my uterus is all old and dried up.

Katie: You are NOT that old!

Me: I’ll be 38 this year. 38!!

Katie: You have a solid ten years left of good uterus.

Me: Ten years?? I don’t want to have a baby at 48!! I’m not going to be using my uterus for that at 48!

Katie: Oh, well, yeah . . . that. I wouldn’t recommend having a baby after 45.

Me: What the hell did you think I was talking about using my uterus for? Extra storage space?

Katie: Oh my god . . . I’m having the weirdest mental picture!

[stop talking to giggle about what we could store in our uteruses (uteri?)]

Me: Wow. There’s a thought. It would be a really good place to keep my keys. I can NEVER find my keys when I need them.

Katie: It would be like the Great Room of a house!

Me: Well, really . . . it does fulfill all of your families needs.

[more giggling]

Katie: So, if the vagina is the Great Room . . . .

Me: No, the uterus is the Great Room. The vagina is more like the entryway to the Great Room.

Katie: Like the doorway. Wait, no . . . the labia is like the doorway, the vagina is the entryway and the uterus is the Great Room. That works.

[more giggling]

Katie: So . . . what’s the anus?

Me: The man cave?

My First Car

I've been thinking a lot about cars lately, most likely because I have just purchased my latest new car this month. Then I read The Rotund Reader's post about her first car and it inspired me, mostly because of the similarities between her first car and mine.

I turned 16 in August of 1987. My parents were desperate for me to get my driver's license so I could drive myself and my little brother to and from school everyday. The car that was going to be my car had been waiting for me all summer in the driveway and I had been practicing driving it, with a parent present, of course.

My grandfather gave me his 1979 Volkswagen Rabbit. It was poop-brown on the outside with tan vinyl upholstery. It was a two-door with what passed for "automatic" seatbelts in 1979: the seatbelts were attached to the door, but unlike new models, they didn't move when you shut the door. They were permanently attached to the top corner of the door. It ran on regular leaded gasoline and had only FM radio. It didn't have air-conditioning. It also didn't have power steering, which was good for the arm muscles.



I loved that car for many reasons. First, it was a gift from my grandfather who took his cars very seriously. Second, it was my ticket to coolness and freedom. Third, it was a VW. VW's have a sort of pedestaled existence in my family. My grandfather always drove one once he retired and gave my dad a baby blue VW bug for his 21st birthday. (In later years, my grandfather would give my brother a blue VW Golf when he turned 21 and my parents gave me a VW Jetta when I turned 21.)

As with most mythical creatures, the Rabbit experienced a sad end. One day in the Spring of 1988, I picked up my brother at his junior high school and we were driving home. I hated having to pick him up because he was so irritating as only little brothers can be. We were arguing about something stupid - he probably looked at me funny or some such horrible offense. I wasn't paying attention to the road and rear-ended a Cadillac.

We weren't hurt and the Cadillac wasn't damaged at all. But the front end of my Rabbit was crumpled. The headlights were destroyed and I couldn't get out of either one of the doors. And my pride was severely bruised.

My parents were not pleased, probably because they knew I had caused the accident while yelling at my brother. As punishment, they refused to buy me a replacement car for a month and didn't fix the Rabbit. Instead, they made me drive it (only during the day because there were no headlights). For a month, I had to crawl in and out of the hatchback door.

My parents always excelled at interesting and humiliating punishments. This one worked - I never totalled another car again. On the other hand, my brother totalled three cars before he turned 21 including the 1983 Toyota Corolla I got as a replacement for the Rabbit.

There is nothing like your first car. No matter how crappy, no matter the problems. It's like your first love . . . you'll always have a longing to recapture that feeling and no car will ever replace it in your memory.

Never Underestimate My Ability to Change the World

They cut down my really big wooden tree penis!! I'm pretty sure it happened this morning after I went to work because I'm pretty sure it was there on my way to work this morning. Who knew I had such power? I shall try to not abuse my great power and be kind to the little people and those who are much weaker than I.

Seriously, though. Can you imagine the conversation that occurred at the Park District's grounds maintenance office? I've been picturing it in my head for the last hour or so.

[The scene: Five guys are sitting around in the maintenance office at the Peoria Park District.]

Guy 1: Huh huh . . . hey guys! Take a look at this! [pointing to blog pictures]

Guy 2: Nice woody! Huh huh huh!!

Guy 3: Huh huh . . . he said woody!

Guy 4: Huh huh . . . she said penis!

Guy 5: Hey, wait. Doesn't that say it's on Park District property? Sweet!

[boss walks in]

Boss: What the fuck are you idiots laughing at?

Guy 1: Look!

Boss: Shit . . . that's on our property? Where? Does anyone know where?? Send out an APB on this really big wooden tree penis. We cannot have that sucker on our property!

[After some frantic emailing, the really big wooden tree penis is located. A plan is formulated. Under the cover of broad daylight and a neighborhood full of primarily elderly people, a lone man in a white truck approaches the really big wooden tree penis. Apprehensive about the effect cutting off a really big tree penis will have on his penis karma, he plans his attack carefully. Starting up the chainsaw, he completes the deed . . . quick and painless. He removes the really big wooden tree penis and throws it in the back of his truck. He returns to the Park District office and displays the really big wooden tree penis to be revered by all for evermore, evermore.]

I took pictures during my lunch hour and I will post them when I get home tonight. They cut off the entire penis, not just a portion of it to make it look less like a penis, but the entire penis, which I think was overkill, really. But you wanna know the best part?

They covered up the stump with snow!

Why was that necessary? As if covering it with snow (a substance that will melt in the next few days anyway) will hide the shame of a really big wooden tree penis formerly occupying a spot on Park District Property? Why else would they cover it up? To conceal their dirty deed from me? Well, it didn't work, primarily because there is sawdust all around the tree and tire tracks leading up near to the tree, and men's work boot prints all around the tree. I may be blonde, people, but I am not stupid.

But I remain in awe of my power and the power of my blog. I shall plan my next post very carefully, for you apparently never know what I can get people to do by just bitching about it.

Bwahahahahahaha!

Maybe It's Just Me

I drive by this tree every morning on my way to work. It is on Peoria Park District property and every day (and I mean, every day) I think to myself, "Either the Peoria Park District has some really creative tree-trimmers working or some really clueless tree-trimmers working."

OK - I'll be completely honest. Some mornings, I don't have complete thoughts like that. Some mornings, I just think, "Wow . . . that's a really big wooden tree penis."

Goodbye Uncle T

My Uncle T died on Monday afternoon. As I detailed in this post, it was not a sudden death and he was ready to go. For his sake, I am happy he was able to pass on and have his life end per his wishes. But it is still a death and, more importantly, the first death of a member of my parents’ generation in our family.

This has been the hardest part of T’s illness and death for me - being faced to recognize the potential death of my parents. T was 59 years old, which makes him four years younger than my mother and nine years younger than my father. Granted, my parents live much healthier lifestyles than T did, but they can’t live forever and, sooner or later, I will be coping with their deaths as well.

Just admitting this puts me close to panic. I can seriously cannot imagine my life without my parents. They are the single most dominant force in my life and, without them, I am in some fear that I will cease to exist. Well, maybe that’s overly dramatic. But I know that I will cease to exist as the same person after they die and that's scary.

In addition to the fear of their death, I have a healthy fear of their incapacitation, mentally or physically. My dad has good longevity genes (both of his parents lived into their 90s) but his father suffered from Alzheimer’s Disease for the last 20 years of his life. His mother was mentally "with it" for longer, but for the last five years or so, slowly succumbed to dementia as well. For some time, I have feared that my father will also descend into Alzheimer’s.

My mother’s genes are considerably better in that department. Her mother died quickly in her sleep without any prior serious illnesses at the age of 79. Her father just turned 90 and is still very physically and mentally able. But my Uncle T was my mother’s brother, so who is to say brain cancer isn’t lurking somewhere in those genes? While our family likes to joke that T purposefully developed brain cancer to get away from his horrible wife, it is bittersweet laughter.

What makes this fear worse for me is the knowledge that it will fall on my shoulders to deal with any health problems or a death. My brother has absolutely no ability to deal with serious issues in a calm and reasoned fashion. He prefers to pretend everything is OK, no matter the evidence to the contrary.

I know I can’t do anything constructive about these issues other than worry about them and that doesn’t really get me anywhere. I have been blessed to have my parents together and alive and always in my life. I was lucky to know all of my grandparents very, very well and not lose the first one until I was 27. A lot of people don’t get these opportunities and never have the strength of familial relationships I have had.

Folsum Daycare Blues

One of the added benefits of XM radio is the station for "younger" children. (As an aside, the Ms. PH of five years ago would have shot herself if she knew she was going to be making a statement like that one. On her behalf, I would like to say . . . barf.) We listen on the way to day care every morning and it gives us a break from our regular kids’ CD playlist.

I have to admit, I find a lot of the programming amusing. It is a little above my three year old’s head, but she laughs if I laugh. But what sold it for me this morning was Ralph’s World singing "Folsum Daycare Blues." Yes, it is exactly what you think it is. And it is fabulous.

Folsum Daycare Blues

Well, I hear the teacher comin’, walking across the room
I ain’t seen the sun shine, and now it’s nearly noon
I’m stuck in Folsom Day Care, time keeps draggin’ by
I hear the teacher comin’, I hang my head and cry

When I was a baby, my Mama told me, son
Be nice to other children, share your toys with everyone
Well I pushed a toddler over, just to watch him fall
I’m here in Folsom Day Care, and it’s no fun at all

If I was a little taller, if the minivan was mine
I’d take it for a drive a little further down the line
Far from Folsom Day Care, that’s where I long to be
I hear the teacher comin’, and that’s what tortures me
Hey

I don’t like their naptime, and I won’t eat their snacks
There’s so many runny noses I don’t know what I’m gonna catch
But my Mom and Dad have left me, and I just don’t why
I’m stuck in Folsom Day Care, I hang my head and cry

I think my favorite part is "Well, I pushed a toddler over, just to watch him fall." That was exactly what I needed on a dreary Monday morning.

So, I Kinda Bought a New Car

I have got to stop saying that, primarily because said new car is sitting my driveway, the balance in my bank account is considerably lower, and the dealer took my old car. So, I really bought a new car.

I keep saying "kinda" because I wasn’t planning on buying a new car this week. I mean, I had been thinking about buying a new car for the last year or so, but I certainly wasn’t planning on buying a new car in the sense that I went car shopping, test drove several brands, evaluated them thoroughly and completely, compared prices online, etc.

But I knew at some point in the future, I was going to buy a new car. My car was a 2001 model which I had been driving for seven and a half years. It has been paid off for the last two and a half years. It was getting to that point that I knew things were going to start going wrong and going wrong in a big way. Old cars (and by old, I mean more than 5 years old) suck money. I’ve been down that road before and I did not like it and I don’t plan on doing it again.

I was happy in my 2001 car. Sure, it was a mess, but it was comfortable. I didn’t have worry about the kids getting dirt on it, the dog shedding in it, or the occasional spill, because it was already in rough shape, looks-wise. Aside from routine maintenance stuff, I hadn’t had to put a lot of money or thought into owning the car. It got me where I wanted to go with no hassle. But then, it started to be pretty loud when I started it. And it got progressively louder and louder. And then it passed 90,000 miles and it was time for a service. Plus, as everyone and my father informed me, I had a headlight out.

I dropped it off at the dealer’s service department in the morning, informed them of the problems, and went on my merry way. I may have mentioned to the shuttle driver that I was considering buying a new car in the future. Of course, he mentioned it to a salesperson, who called me at work and asked me to come talk to him when I picked up my car.

Yeah, whatever, I thought. I’m not buying a new car today, so what could it hurt? I talked to him, looked at my options, talked about money, and I even test drove one. Sure, it was nice to drive a new car, a 2009 model that is the step up from my 2001 model. But, I wasn’t sold on it.

Then, I went to the service department to pay. The service fee? $82. The estimated cost to repair the exhaust system? $1200. Right then and there, I changed my mind. This was the end for my old car. It was time to say goodbye. In my mind, either I pay $1200 to fix the old car now, knowing full well that every other month or so I will incur another unexpected expense, or I put $1200 down on a new car now, and have a set, anticipated monthly expense.

I’m not one who likes financial surprises at all, so I went with the new car.

The new car is beautiful. It is black (of course, all of my cars are black) and shiny. I went from a small 2001 sedan to a mid-sized 2009 sedan (It’s like a big girl car!) It is really comfortable. The trunk is huge. The engine is so quiet. It is soooooo pretty. I wanted to sleep in it the first night.

Plus, it comes with XM radio. In all seriousness, I don’t know how I lived this long without satellite radio, particularly given the state of radio in Peoria. I’ve heard people say that before and I thought they were crazy. They aren’t. Satellite radio is the best thing ever.

I have a little twinge of buyer’s remorse, but I think that is all about my personality rather than the speed at which I made the decision to buy this car. I mean, I still have buyer’s remorse about my house and I bought that seven years ago.

This car buying experience was vastly different than my last one. This time, I test drove one car and bought that car. Last time, I test drove at least eight cars, some more than once, kept a chart and notes on what I thought each time I drove them, and researched them online before buying. (And I still had a twinge of remorse that time too.)

This time, I didn’t have a desperate need to buy a new car. Last time, I was more than desperate and I wasn’t sure if my 1992 Volkswagen Jetta was going to make it to the dealer to trade it in. I almost felt bad for the dealership when they bought that car. I know they lost money on that deal, hands down. Suckers!

This time, I didn’t cry when I emptied the old car. When I emptied my Jetta, I cried like a baby. It was so emotional getting rid of my Jetta. The Jetta got me through the last two years of college, law school, and all the years in between. From the ages of 21 to 30, that black Jetta was a part of me, as cars often are at that age. It was the first car that was ever really mine. I put all but 12 of the miles on it. I was in the car for every pothole, door ding, hail storm, and bird bomb. I was driving it when I hit an armadillo at 2:30 a.m. in the middle of Texas.

But it was also the single worst car I have ever experienced. It had electrical problems from day one and I got a shock every time I got in it. The tires were constantly flat. I had to replace one of the headlights every three months. In the later years, the sunroof leaked (usually on my head), the car died in the middle of intersections for no apparent reason, and the tape deck stopped working without warning. I replaced every part on that car at least once. The driver’s side door was rusted out and the glove compartment stuck shut.

As they say, the bitterest break-ups are the hardest to get over. I still miss that Jetta.

But, I’m a big girl now and I have a grown-up car to prove it. And the grown-up car payments.

First Question of the Year

I would like someone to explain to me why we can't as a society seem to make a decent bathtub writing instrument. I'm absolutely serious about this question, people. How hard can it be to make an art product for children that actually works in the bathtub?

Really, really, really hard, as it turns out. I have tried a variety of options, tonight being the latest in a long string of bathtub writing instrument failures. The markers were too runny, the paints stained my tub, and kids get bored with "painting" with plain old water. Tonight, we tested the bathtub crayons. And, I'm not afraid to give my honest opinion on their performance . . .

They FUCKING sucked.

Not only did they fail to write appropriately on the bathtub, they broke in half after one usage, stained my bathtub, and turned the water a cloudy beige-grey color. Cloudy beige-grey with weird flecks.

Am I getting up in arms about something completely inconsequential and stupid? Yes. But, the mere mention of writing in the bathtub makes my daughter's dreams come true and . . . shocker . . . sometimes I like to make my children happy.

But Noooooooooooo.

Again, I have to explain to my child why I have thrown out another failed bathtub writing instrument that she became insanely attached to after one use, despite screaming bloody murder from frustration because they kept breaking and the white crayon didn't show up on the bathtub (Seriously Crayola? A WHITE bathtub crayon? Come. On.)

I'm probably going to really regret making this my first post of 2009.

Where Oh Where . . .

Has my creativity gone? Maybe it is the cold weather, or the busy season, or the weird sickness I had before Christmas, but my blogging creativity has gone down the drain. I don't think I have an anti-muse like someone else does, but I'm not quite at my top blogging fitness level. Maybe that's what I should have put on my Christmas list instead of a new iPod Nano. Too late . . . and I really like my new iPod.

Anyway, here I am again stealing a blogging idea from another blogger. I figure it is OK since (1) she stole it too, (2) I think she's awesome and probably one of the best additions to the blogosphere this year, and (3) the ethics police don't seem to patrol the blogosphere in Peoria, at least judging from the viral outbreak of anonymous assholes commenting lately. So, I am safe.

I digress. Best get on with my unimaginative blogging, the last one of the year. 2008 is quickly coming to an end. So tell us exactly what happened in this unfor​gettable year.

How old did you turn? 37. Yikes. But, with that 37, I have to learn not to focus on the number but on how old I feel. I don't feel 37 and, if I do say so myself, I don't think I look 37. Well, maybe in the morning . . . but that doesn't count.

What school did you go to? None, thank god. I'm done with school. Never going to school again. I think the only school I was in this year was my kids' preschool.

Tell us about something good that happened: Oh, so many good things happened this year. My girl came back to live with me, I finally paid off all of my credit card debt left over from law school and before, I gained another nephew, I won a few cases, my grandfather turned 90, my parents celebrated their 40th Anniversary, and too much more to discuss here.

Did you change much? I'm sure I did. Anyone who doesn't experience even the tiniest changes everyday has stopped living a fulfilling life. I'd like to think I changed for the better, but who knows?

Are you happy with who you have become? Absolutely.

Tell us a song you were hooked on: Just in the last two weeks or so, I cannot stop listening to "All I Want Is You" which is the first song on the soundtrack from the movie Juno. It has a folksy sing-a-long quality that makes me smile. Plus, I can listen to it with kids in the car, which has an added benefit.

Did you go to the beach? Not technically, although I was on the beach of Puget Sound, but since it was October, it wasn't really beachy.

Did you get really dressed up for anything? For something special? Probably . . . I don't really remember. Nothing formal or anything.

Tell us a funny thing that happened? I think the highlights of my funny year were probably chronicled on this blog and include: my failures as a mommy, throwing my underwear around in public, being called a crook by my child, making up the song "Bubble Got Back", my son peeing on my head, learning that my nephew sleeps with a rice cooker, and various adventures in cooking, pet ownership, and motherhood.

Tell us the saddest thing that happened? I don't like to dwell on it, but the thing that happened in February, the thing that happened in March, and the thing that happened in October. Those are the three things that made me question my sanity and my happiness this year.

What are your plans for New Year? For the first time, I am having a party at my house. Actually, I should be preparing for it rather than writing this post.

What are you most looking forward to next year? The adventure is not knowing. Something in particular is going very well right now and I'm excited to see what happens next year with it.

Tell us something you plan on changing for next year? My kitchen. It has got to go. I didn't have the financial reserves to do it this year, but I am going to do it next year.

Think back to the beginning of the year and now think of now what’s different: I think the most significant difference between the beginning of the year and now is that I am no longer single. There are other differences, but that one is pretty big for me.

Are you happy with what happened this year? Overall, yes. I would love to be able to change some things, but they are things I can't change, so yes.

Was 2008 your best year? Probably not. It was a really stressful year. I'd like to hope my best year is always in the future. (Good lord . . . when did I become this non-cynical? I used to be such a pissy bitch. Must be the old age.)

And Now, a Report From Our Man Down Under

While reading my parents' local newspaper this morning, I saw the headline, "More Holiday Time Leads to More Sex." Intrigued, I read on. Apparently, in the modern age, people have more sex during Christmas and New Years. To assist in this important article, the author contacted a spokesperson from Trojan. His name is David Johnson.

In addition to Christmas and New Years, the spokesperson added:

"The long July Fourth, Memorial Day, and Labor Day weekends also produce spikes in condom sales, Trojan's Johnson said."



That's what he said.

My Christmas List

No - not that kind of list. A Christmas meme I made on my own (by stealing from several different ones I found on the internet - now that just screams Christmas spirit, doesn't it?) For some reason, my creative juices have needed a little sparking lately and I am bound and determined to post more individual posts than I did last year. After all, in 2007, I only blogged for 6 months and posted 117 times. This year, I have blogged all year and I am only just over 100. So, expect a lot more crappy half-assed posting from me in the next 15 days.

(1) Wrapping paper or gift bags? Wrapping paper. I despise gift bags. They create extra waste and show an extreme lack of individuality and creativity. Not that I EVER refuse a gift, but I might appreciate it more if it is gift wrapped.

(2) Real tree or artificial? I would love to have a real tree but I can’t seem to get over my extreme fear of fire and real trees. My parents have always had a real tree and I don’t get worried about it at their house. But, for some reason, I have this feeling I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night worrying about a real tree catching fire in my house. So, I have a fake tree.

(3) When do you put up the tree? Whenever I get the time. We just put it up last night and that’s about normal for my family - about 10 days before Christmas.

(4) When do you take the tree down? Again, whenever I get the time. Sometimes it comes down on Christmas Day because we don’t do much of anything else on Christmas Day. It is always down by New Year’s Day, though.

(5) Do you like egg nog? In small doses, yes.

(6) Favorite gift received as a child? Probably my 1970s split-level doll house. It is fabulous. I still have it, as a matter of fact. It even came with teeny-tiny little silverware and magazines. And all of the appliances were Harvest Gold.

(7) Hardest person to buy for? My sister-in-law. She and I have next to nothing in common and she hates normal every-girl type of gifts like lotion, candles, or accessories. Her hobbies are chess and mathematics. What the hell am I supposed to do with that? Plus, she objects to gift cards because "it is just like giving someone money." And tell me . . . what exactly is wrong with that?

(8) Easiest person to buy for? My kids. It’s not that hard to make kids under 5 happy.

(9) Do you have a nativity scene? Please. No. Everytime I'm even near a nativity scene, I have this strong urge to steal the Baby Jesus.

(10) Mail or email Christmas cards? Mail. Emailed Christmas cards are tacky. Plus . . . how would I make fun of you if you don’t write me those dreadfully boring and unintentionally hilarious family update letters?

(11) Worst Christmas gift you ever received? My brother and sister-in-law gave me a hot pepper plant which was infested with aphids. Not only do I not like hot peppers, the plant gave aphids to the rest of my houseplants and they all died.

(12) Favorite Christmas movie? Scrooged. Or The Sound of Music, even though it isn’t really a Christmas movie, but they always show it at Christmas.

(13) When do you start shopping? Whenever. I refuse to shop the day after Thanksgiving, so I usually start around now.

(14) Have you ever recycled a Christmas present? Well, I recycled that pepper plant right into the garbage . . . . Seriously, though. I have recycled many a Christmas present.

(15) Favorite thing to eat at Christmas? Cookies. I love Christmas cookies.

(16) Lights on the tree? My tree lights are white. My parents’ tree lights are multi-colored, however, and I would be really offended if they changed them to all white.

(17) Favorite Christmas song? Non-religious - Santa Baby, preferably by Eartha Kitt, and Happy Christmas (war is over) by John Lennon. Religious - The Little Drummer Boy, What Child is This, and Silent Night.

(18) Travel at Christmas or stay home? It just depends on the year. We mostly travel to my parents’ house.

(19) Can you name all of Santa’s reindeer? Not without cheating.

(20) Angel on the tree top or a star? Neither. Our family trees have Santa Lucia on the top of them. The Lucy on top of my tree was made by my mother the first year my parents were married. When I bought my own house, my mother gave me that one and we made a new one together that currently sits on top of my parents’ tree. When my daughter has her first house, I hope to give her the old one so we can make a new one together. Every year, my dad has to make a comment about shoving the tree up Lucy’s ass. Every year. It never gets old.

(21) Open the presents Christmas Eve or morning? Christmas Eve. Christmas Day is for sitting around watching movies (marathons of Star Wars, Indiana Jones, or James Bond), playing with your Christmas toys, and doing jigsaw puzzles.

(22) Most annoying thing about this time of year? Asshole shoppers. My one Christmas season working in retail, a woman threw a stack of books at me on Christmas Eve. Christmas spirit my ass.

(23) Favorite for Christmas dinner? We have a standing rib roast every year on Christmas Eve.

(24) Favorite ornament theme or color? All of my ornaments have a special story or meaning to them. I like to buy at least one new ornament every year and I particularly like Santa Claus ornaments.

(25) What do you want for Christmas this year? Well, that would make it too easy for you, wouldn’t it?

(26) Do you hang mistletoe? No. The way I figure it . . . if you want to kiss someone, just do it.

(27) Favorite holiday memory as a child? As a child, we always spent Christmas with my dad’s parents because he’s an only child. I can’t remember one memory in particular, but I remember loving the feeling of Christmas time - everyone sitting around the living room talking and having fun, singing songs, playing with their new toys. It is the most overwhelming feeling of warmth and happiness I remember as a child.

(28) When and how did you learn the truth about Santa? Never. I always knew the truth about Santa since we didn’t believe he was real. Just like all other fictional stories, it was a nice story but we didn’t believe it was true.

(29) What’s the most important thing about the holidays? Giving gifts to people you love and spending time with family.

(30) Favorite Holiday tradition? I have so many, so it is hard to pick one. I love Advent calendars, I love all of the baking with my mother, I love wrapping presents, I love singing Christmas songs, I love celebrating Santa Lucia (and, yes, I do wear a crown of real candles on my head. Nothing says "Christmas" better than hot wax in your hair) . . . . Probably the best one we have as a family is that everyone has to open gifts one at a time and everyone else has to watch them. It was torture as a child, but I like the focus it puts on the giving part of Christmas, rather than on the receiving.

Too Smart for My Good

I'd like to go back to that time in parenting where you can get away with lying to your children. Specifically, I would like to go back to the time where I could eat something in front of my daughter and she didn't have to have a part of it or know exactly what I was eating, mostly because I'm eating something I would never let her eat. Usually, it is something with either a lot of caffeine, alcohol, or sugar, or on a good day . . . a lot of all three.

Last night, my daughter was in her first Christmas pagent at school. It was very cute and very chaotic as it was an all preschool production of semi-recognizable Christmas songs shouted at the top of their lungs. About 80% of the kids picked their noses on stage (including mine), several girls managed to show off their underwear by lifting their fancy Christmas dresses, one child had to be removed from the stage in tears, and only a few boys got in fist fights. Good times.

But, I'm going to have to rely on my excellent memory if I ever want to look at pictures of the evening again because Bad Mommy forgot her camera. I suck. Although I enjoyed the show, I sat there the entire time thinking about what kind of mother I am that forgets to bring a camera to my child's first Christmas pagent.

Anyway, I was feeling a little down when we got home and decided to fix that with some sugar and chocolate. I really had a craving for S'mores, and for the first time ever, I actually had all of the necessary ingredients in my house at the same time. And they weren't stale! (This is mostly because we still have Halloween candy sitting around.) Being the only one awake in the house, I poured myself a little drink, put on my pajamas, made S'mores, and watched a re-run of Grey's Anatomy.

(In case you are wondering how I made S'mores inside my house without a campfire, I will let you in on a little secret. If you have a gas stove, you have a perfect S'more making device. It is much easier than using a candle or the fireplace, but you have to be careful because the heat from a gas flame is much hotter than the heat from a candle or wood flame. Do not be surprised if your marshmallows burst into flames within the first 5 seconds. Given some time, you will discover the perfect technique.)

After a gripping episode of Celebrity Rehab (boy, that Shifty is really fucked up, huh?), I dragged myself to bed, completely forgetting the S'mores mess in the kitchen. In the morning, my daughter walks into the kitchen for breakfast and the following discussion occurs:

Girl: What happened?? (looking at the stove and counter area strewn with marshmallows, graham crackers, and chocolate wrappers)

Me: Nothing.

Girl: Whatcha eat, Mama?

Me: Nothing. A snack.

Girl: Shellows?? You eat SHELLOWS? (shellows = marshmallows in our house)

Me: Yes. I did.

Girl: Teddy Grahams? YOU eat my TEDDY GRAHAMS? (we call all graham crackers Teddy Grahams . . . just so you think I wasn't making S'mores by pasting together 50 tiny Teddy Grahams to make one big graham cracker.)

Me: Yes.

Girl: When? When you eat . . . CANDY? (She has just seen the chocolate wrappers as I am trying to throw them away to hide the evidence.)

Me: Yes. Just a few pieces last night.

Girl: Why don't I get some? Can I have some now? Can I have some S'mores for bfast?

Me: No. You can have yogurt for breakfast with toast. Wait . . . how do you know what S'mores are? Where did you learn that?

Girl: School.

Me: Damn education.

Girl: You say that?